Nepal is still reeling from the short but violent GenZ moment, and the reverberations are being felt around the world.&nbsp;
As news from the killings and rampage from Nepal on 8-9 September spread through the wire services and social media, in the Philippines, East Timor and even faraway Peru, banners on the streets last week referred to ‘learning lessons from Nepal’. In Ladakh last week, <a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2025/9/25/bloodiest-day-how-gen-z-protest-wave-hit-indias-ladakh-killing-four">protesters set fire to the ruling BJP party office</a> and four people were killed in police firing.&nbsp;
Nepal’s GenZ was praised by <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/09/19/opinion/asia-protest-youth-nepal-bangladesh.html">international commentators</a> for rising up against chronic corruption and impunity, and for achieving the fastest regime change in history. But the youth were also blamed for the arson and vandalism even though the groups said they had no part in it — most &nbsp;foreign media also did not highlight enough the infiltration by radical groups.
“We were not expecting the protests to turn so violent and deadly. On the second day, things escalated so quickly it became difficult to keep track. We were rushing on the groud and making calls to confirm what was happening,” recalls Paavan Mathema of Agence France-Presse (AFP) in Nepal.
The GenZ protest this month was a lesson on the mechanics of social media. Hashtags like #youthagainstcorruption and #nepobaby from Indonesia inspired Nepal’s youth to take to the streets, but events here in turn triggered protests elsewhere. The international news agencies and mainstream global tv channels were not as important in this information cross-pollination.
The movement was organised online and spread quickly in no time, but it was disinformation and fake news that spread faster than facts. The over-simplification by international media was because it had to explain 30 years of political evolution in a country that they mostly ignored in the past, this sometimes tended to be misleading.&nbsp;
While the Oli government’s social media ban of 26 platforms starting 5 September poured oil on the fire that had already been lit by a disparate group of desperate youth, their outrage over decades of corruption and impunity was reaching a breaking point. There was extreme disenchantment with serial politicians recycling themselves in power.&nbsp;
“The ban on social media definitely triggered the protest, but we put a high priority on accuracy and speed during reporting in such times,” explains the Nepal correspondent for Associated Press (AP) news agency in Nepal Binaj Gurubacharya. “Our own safety also becomes a prime concern in times like these, but should not be at an expense of accuracy.”
CRISIS REPORTING
But headlines everywhere including in The New York Times, The Guardian and others that used wire service content initially highlighted the social media ban as the main reason for the protest. They were soon called out by protesters, while <a href="https://institute.aljazeera.net/en/ajr/article/3358" target="_blank">Al Jazeera</a> and its <a href="https://institute.aljazeera.net/en" target="_blank">Media Institute </a>were applauded for more nuanced coverage.
Another positive example of international media supplementing the stories by local journalists was <a href="https://www.france24.com/en/" target="_blank">France 24’</a>s detailed <a href="https://www.france24.com/en/asia-pacific/20250915-nepal-police-protests-violence-kathmandu" target="_blank">forensic analysis</a> of the security forces firing live ammunition at protesters at Parliament on 8 September.&nbsp;
What really went far and wide around the world were dramatic YouTube videos about the violence, and memes on social media. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-accidental-journalist" target="_blank">A British tourist</a> who filmed street protests did the work of an on-the-ground journalist and got millions of views globally for some of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Slq6zWu9o9w" target="_blank">his YouTube videos</a>.&nbsp;
But some of the misinformation or fake news on social media was also picked up by the mainstream press, like the <a href="https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/world/south-asia/nepal-violence-ex-pm-khanals-wife-dies-after-house-torched-president-urges-calm-dialogue/articleshow/123791004.cms">wrongly reported death of former Prime Minister Jhalanath Khanal’s wife</a> in an arson attack on their home. A video of the Finance Minister Bishnu Poudel being <a href="https://www.ndtv.com/world-news/video-nepal-finance-minister-chased-through-street-kicked-attacked-9243749">chased and beaten</a> by protesters also turned out to be someone else.&nbsp;
Some international outlets, mainly in India, also fell prey to a fake video that K P Oli had fled to Dubai. Even this newspaper’s online edition had to correct it after wrongly reporting it without verification.&nbsp;
Indian tv channels which did &nbsp;extensive coverage of events in Nepal, with many Nepalis relying on them and believing their content — especially during the protests when Nepal’s main channels went off air as they were being attacked.
All this got out of hand, and protesters in the week after the violence started ridiculing and harassing Indian tv correspondents as they tried to interview talking heads outside the charred Parliament building, or on the streets.
<a href="https://www.newslaundry.com/2025/09/09/foreign-hand-gen-z-data-addiction-5-ways-indian-media-missed-the-nepal-story">Indian media</a> were also the first to accuse US involvement in sparking a ‘colour revolution’ in Nepal. They later claimed that former Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA) chief and now Energy Minister Kulman Ghising and even Kathmandu Mayor Balen Shah have been appointed interim prime minister in Nepal. These were rumours in Nepal, but were reported as news.&nbsp;
“Fact checking is crucial while covering such movements, and since we are telling an important story about Nepal to the world, double checking becomes important as it sets the international narrative,” says Mathema. “We were constantly double checking with concerned authorities as so much misinformation was being spread.”
“We were constantly double checking numbers and information with concerned authorities and parties to make sure we were accurate, especially as misinformation was rampant,” she adds.
Apart from Indian media, international news agencies got reinforcements of reporters, photojournalists and editors from the region, and other foreign correspondents also flew in when Kathmandu airport was opened after 48 hours.
Adds Mathema: “Sometimes foreign reporters can give a fresh perspective or an angle which we could not see or cover. So their inputs are always helpful.”
In the aftermath of the violence, there were plenty of jokes and memes, clips of protesters dancing, in weird poses and performing martial arts, showcasing the light hearted side of the protests while also <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-meme-revolution">reaffirming the resilience</a> of people able to bounce back from something so traumatic.
The GenZ clean-up campaigns, neighbourhoods helping restore burnt out police stations and local people’s emotional reaction to the burnt out hulks of government buildings at the city centre also <a href="https://www.scmp.com/week-asia/people/article/3325635/nepals-gen-z-protesters-lead-clean-campaign-after-violent-clashes">made news</a>.
“After the protests, people were quick to gather and clean up public spaces and paint police stations. This is a scene which may not be so common in other countries with similar violence,” adds Gurubacharya. “So it became an important story to also tell the world.”&nbsp;
In less than two days, the world saw a dramatic toppling of a democratic government. With the interim government led by former chief justice Sushila Karki, there is much hope. She has expanded her ministerial cabinet, and the election has been announced for 5 March 2026 but between then and now, a lot remains uncertain.&nbsp;
And Nepal will continue to be watched by national and international media alike until then and after. AP’s Gurubacharya sums it up: “For now, we are taking it one day at a time.”

original

674x448

610x380

500x500

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

1250x600

1084x550

thumbnail

viewImage

International spotlight on Nepal

Less than 11 months into his term, Indonesian President Prabowo Subianto faces a stark choice. He can be remembered either as a leader whose presidency was defined by public anger and discontent, or as one who recognised the challenges facing his country and acted in the national interest.
The anti-government protests sweeping Indonesia over the past month are not fleeting outbursts but the culmination of long-suppressed grievances against abuses of power, the erosion of constitutional norms, and the violation of basic human rights.
The protesters are not seeking an apology or even sympathy from the president; they demand the chance to live a decent life in which their dignity and human rights are respected and upheld. That yearning for clean and effective government is now echoed in similar protests in East Timor, Nepal, Philippines and elsewhere.
Prabowo's administration has set its sights on making the country the world's fourth-largest economy by 2045 -- a goal that would require sustained annual growth of 8%. But with 68% of Indonesia's population living below the poverty line for upper-middle-income countries, such ambitions mean little if millions of citizens remain trapped in poverty and hardship.
Indonesians have experienced rapid growth before, most notably during the long dictatorship of Suharto (1967-98), Prabowo's former father-in-law. Given that history, they know that lasting and inclusive development gains depend on political and social reform, not strongman rule.
Blaming previous administrations or consolidating power among key parties -- which may provide short-term stability but weakens democratic resilience -- will not absolve the current government of responsibility for its decisions today. What Indonesia needs are concrete measures to reduce poverty, create employment opportunities, and restore trust in government.
To heal the country's deepening social fractures, policymakers must focus on four urgent priorities. First, they must enforce the separation of powers and eliminate conflicts of interest. Democracy flourishes only when the executive, legislative, and judicial branches operate independently, yet in Indonesia, power remains heavily concentrated. Many political parties operate as family-run enterprises, with leaders holding executive roles or wielding outsize influence across institutions.&nbsp;
This concentration fosters a culture of impunity and erodes public trust.
Clear ethics rules are essential. Public officials -- including the president, cabinet members, and parliamentary leaders -- should not hold party posts, positions in state-owned enterprises (SOEs), and private-sector jobs simultaneously.&nbsp;
Eliminating these overlaps would reduce corruption, ensure that policies serve citizens rather than private or partisan interests, and bolster the credibility of Indonesia's democratic institutions.
Second, fiscal transparency is critical to delivering better-targeted social assistance and accelerating SOE reform. For two decades, Indonesia's tax-to-GDP ratio has stagnated at 10-12%. While the 2026 budget projects revenues totaling 12% of GDP, early 2025 figures are lagging this target – a shortfall worsened by a decline in commodity revenues.
At the same time, budget pressures continue to mount, underscoring the need for fiscal discipline. The government's Free Nutritious Meals programme is a prime example. Though well-intentioned, it is prohibitively expensive, with a budget of 171 trillion rupiahs ($0.3 billion) that is expected to rise three-fold in 2026.&nbsp;
A more effective approach would be to pilot the programme in five underserved regions, at a cost of no more than five trillion rupiahs, while engaging with local communities. The remaining funds could be used to support teachers, health professionals, and waste-management workers, or finance programs that deliver tangible benefits to low- and middle-income households.
Similarly, the new Danantara sovereign-wealth fund, with its 300 trillion rupiah budget, is unnecessary. With public debt at 41% of GDP, new borrowing should be directed towards productive investment rather than bureaucratic expansion.&nbsp;
Reforming existing SOEs would be cheaper, faster, and more effective. While consolidation has reduced the number of SOEs from 118 in 2018 to 64 in 2024, the state still dominates sectors ranging from banking to hospitality, crowding out small enterprises.
Third, civil authority must be strengthened to curb military interference. Military or police intervention in civilian affairs tends to undermine democratic institutions.&nbsp;
In Indonesia, where the military continues to wield significant political influence, preserving clear boundaries is particularly important. That means codified institutional checks, stronger civilian oversight, and strict adherence to human-rights norms. Without these safeguards, Indonesia risks sliding towards the instability seen in Myanmar or in parts of Latin America and Africa.
Lastly, the long-delayed Asset Recovery Bill (RUU Perampasan Aset), which would empower the state to reclaim disproportionate wealth without waiting for a criminal conviction, must be enacted.&nbsp;
Crucially, its aim is not to seize assets arbitrarily but to ensure that stolen public assets are restored to their rightful owners -- the people. First drafted in 2008 and submitted to parliament in 2012, the bill has languished for nearly two decades, enabling corrupt actors to plunder public resources with impunity.
By establishing a civil process for recovering unexplained wealth (in rem asset recovery), the law fulfills Indonesia's obligations under the United Nations Convention Against Corruption and shows that the government stands with citizens in fighting abuses of power. If Prabowo channels this recovered wealth into education, health care, and social programs, he could leave a truly transformative legacy.
Indonesia's leadership can choose to deepen repression, or it can take a different path and strengthen democratic governance. Prabowo's legacy will not be measured by electoral margins but by whether his government respects human rights, improves health care and education, and creates more good jobs.&nbsp;
He can be remembered as the president who presided over Indonesia's largest protests since Suharto, or he can be celebrated as a leader who delivered political, social, and economic justice. The choice is his. © Project Syndicate
Lili Yan Ing, Secretary General of the International Economic Association, is Lead Adviser for the Southeast Asian region at the Economic Research Institute for Asean and East Asia.

Indonesian democracy on the brink

Although instability is endemic to South and Southeast Asia, it is becoming increasingly dangerous both for India’s neighbors and India itself. This was reflected most recently in the violent unrest in Nepal. But that crisis is hardly an isolated case. In Bangladesh, directly to India’s east, the same tensions that led to the overthrow of the government in 2024 remain unresolved. And to the southeast, Thailand is reeling from the court-ordered removal of its prime minister and a series of recent border clashes with Cambodia. 
According to the Armed Conflict Location &amp; Event Data project, Myanmar’s civil war has claimed at least <a href="https://acleddata.com/report/war-sky-how-drone-warfare-shaping-conflict-myanmar" target="_blank">80,000 lives</a>, both civilians and combatants, since 2021, following the military coup that ended Aung San Suu Kyi’s democratic government. To India’s west, a perpetually volatile Pakistan wrestles with the zombies of its history: Islamist extremist groups and poor economic and governmental performance. 
To the south, Sri Lanka may have settled down following the ouster of its president three years ago, but its economy shows few signs of mounting a sustained recovery. And to the north, China’s quest for regional hegemony is another source of instability. 
For India, these crises are not distant concerns. Refugee flows from Bangladesh are causing social unease and disruptions in India’s eastern states; the never-ending threat of cross-border terror from Pakistan nearly incited a war in Kashmir this summer; and now, Nepal’s volatile politics have given China another opportunity for meddling. Since this arc of fragility is too large to ignore, the question for India’s leadership is how to absorb and minimize the shockwaves, and how to steady the region.
One can start with Nepal, which has struggled to live by the ambitious constitution that was forged to end a long Maoist rebellion two decades ago. Nepali state institutions remain fragile and contested, and hopes of stability have been repeatedly dashed by factionalism, corruption, and political leaders’ inability to consolidate a system that everyone can trust. The recent spasm of shockingly brutal violence is a symptom of these deeper fault lines. 
India cannot be indifferent to such instability. Our long, open border with Nepal makes us vulnerable to refugee flows and cross-border crime, and our deep cultural, ethnic, religious, and economic ties mean that the government in Kathmandu will always look over its shoulder at the government in New Delhi. Moreover, China’s increasing influence in Nepal’s domestic politics has, as a matter of necessity, made the country a major strategic concern for India. 
In Bangladesh, the interim government that has ruled since <a href="https://www.project-syndicate.org/columnist/sheikh-hasina">Sheikh Hasina</a>’s ouster is failing in its efforts to restore law and order or safeguard human rights. The economy, a bright spot for decades, is under pressure from domestic political jitters and US President Donald Trump’s punishing tariffs. The febrile political environment has left the country’s minorities feeling increasingly insecure. The stakes for India are high, because its own efforts to manage the border, migration, and counterterrorism depend on the regime in Dhaka maintaining order. 
At first glance, Thailand’s turmoil and the border clashes with Cambodia may seem less urgent. But India, under its Act East policy, has been pursuing deeper economic and strategic ties with the Association of Southeast Asian Nations’ ten member states and their 600 million-plus people. Any instability within that bloc will complicate this outreach. 
Moreover, Thailand has long served as a bridge between South and Southeast Asia. If its institutions falter, or if disputes with Cambodia escalate despite Malaysian Prime Minister <a href="https://www.project-syndicate.org/columnist/anwar-ibrahim">Anwar Ibrahim</a>’s best efforts to broker a resolution, India’s vision of a connected, secure Indo-Pacific corridor could become untenable. 
To describe Pakistan as chronically troubled may sound dismissive, but it is an unfortunate truth. The country’s civilian authorities have been consistently undermined, as when <a href="https://www.project-syndicate.org/columnist/imran-khan-1">Imran Khan</a>’s elected government was ousted in 2022 at the military’s behest. Extremist groups thrive when politics becomes a blood sport, and Pakistan’s fragile economy only exacerbates this dynamic. 
From India’s perspective, Pakistan’s troubles are more than a domestic issue, because they regularly threaten to spill across the Line of Control in Kashmir, fueling terrorism, destroying any prospect for regional peace, and even introducing the specter of a nuclear catastrophe. This continuous instability chains India to the sub-continental chessboard, even when it wants to look outward. The Pakistan-China axis further complicates the status quo, which is unlikely to change in the foreseeable future. 
All these stories point to a larger worrying trend: democracy in India’s neighborhood is in retreat. Constitutions are being rewritten, and courts politicized. Sensing weakness, too many army generals see themselves as free to intervene, including by jailing or exiling political leaders.
For India – the world’s largest democracy – responding to this trend demands a more assertive regional strategy. Of course, for most of South Asia, barring Pakistan, India is the first responder when crises hit. But during periods when India’s neighbors do not think they need its help, they tend to shrug off its security concerns. 
And as if India’s neighborhood were not dangerous enough, the wider world adds its own layers of uncertainty. Trump’s policy toward the region has been arbitrary in the extreme, leading smaller states to hedge their bets. In Japan and South Korea, debates are underway about the wisdom of acquiring nuclear weapons, now that China is flexing its muscles and the US security umbrella has been called into question. 
Although India has stood its ground in the face of the storm, the regional and Trump-induced volatility is making it harder to maintain the country’s treasured strategic autonomy. The task now is no longer to deepen ties with America, but to maintain the strategic, technological, and economic core of the partnership while building resistance against sudden shifts in US policy. 
India is not seeking dominance in South Asia. Its goal is to build an inclusive, rules-based, and connected region – and thus transform a history of recurring crises into a future of enduring stability. © <a href="https://www.project-syndicate.org/">Project Syndicate</a>
Nirupama Rao is a former foreign secretary of India and former Indian ambassador to China and the United States.

India’s reckoning with its dangerous neighbourhood

As the youth protest turned violent in Baneswar last week, healthcare workers across the city watched shocked, horrified, and overwhelmed, as the injured were carried in with bullets to the head, chest, torso, and limbs.
The death toll from last week’s youth protests against corruption and malgovernance has now reached 74. A majority of the dead and injured are young Nepalis who had marched on 8 and 9 September in hopes that the movement would see the dawn of a new Nepal.
Meanwhile, more than 1,700 people across the country were injured. Many young Nepalis had joined the rally in their uniforms, believing that it would protect them from any violence that might occur during the day, as international law protects students from use of force.
But the security forces fired live ammunition into the crowd. First responders and healthcare workers say that police have used extreme and inhumane force on student protestors, with some needing multiple surgeries to treat bullet wounds.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/remember-their-names" target="_blank">Remember their names</a>, Nishi Rungta
Twenty-year-old student Kishore Dhakal is one among hundreds of protesters who was shot during the protest. He now lies recovering at Bir Hospital, unable to speak due to the injuries and stitches on his face. Videos of him being shot have been widely circulated on social media.&nbsp;
“He just completed grade 12 and was planning to go abroad for his further studies,” says Dhakal’s father, who is by his son’s bedside. “Once he is out of danger and gets better, we plan to go back to our village.”
Netra Bikram Thapa, 30, was at the protest in Baneswar chanting anti-corruption slogans when the security forces began firing water cannons and tear gas towards demonstrators. As they were asking to be able to move forward, police started firing live rounds, and a bullet struck Thapa.&nbsp;
“I joined the movement because I wanted corruption to end and good governance to prevail,” says Thapa, who is currently recovering at Bir Hospital. “We are not from the land of Gandhi, this is the land of Bhimsen Thapa — we refused to keep mum, and began counterattacking with stones.”
The protest degenerated into arson and mayhem on the second day as protestors vandalised political party offices and private residences of leaders. Demonstrators reportedly found millions stashed in the houses of political leaders, burning the money along with everything else.&nbsp;
Arson and looting escalated that afternoon after erstwhile Prime Minister Oli resigned, as agitators set fire to the three branches of government, numerous bureaucratic and government institutions , 12 Bhatbhateni outlets, the Hilton Hotel, Ullens school, Kantipur Media Group, and several automobile dealerships. &nbsp;
The GenZ community had immediately condemned the arson and looting of public property and distanced itself from the violence, claiming that their movement was infiltrated by provocateurs and extremists.
“The politicians sit on piles upon piles of cash at home while ordinary Nepalis only have change in their pockets,” says 20-year-old Liza Adhikari, who participated in the protest after hearing about it on social media.&nbsp;
Adhikari had told her family that she would be away working on a college assignment, but instead went to Baneswar. She was in the crowd in front of Parliament when police began firing, and was about to head back when she noticed a fellow demonstrator who had been exposed to tear gas in need of assistance.&nbsp;
“I had crouched down to help, asking police personnel not to shoot or use violence, but then they just shot me,” recalls Adhikari, who is receiving treatment at the National Trauma Center.&nbsp;
Protestors exposed to tear gas had been struggling to breathe before <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-8-september-massacre" target="_blank">police began to fire live ammunition</a>, conserving what little water they had.
“Some shops refused to provide us water when we begged them for help to soothe our irritated eyes and face, but some cafes were really helpful and restocked our water supply,” says Adhikari. “I will never forget their kindness.”
Samir Acharya, 20 was in front of Parliament, and was shot on the leg on 8 September as the crowd tried to retreat. “The police aimed and shot to kill that day, students would not have been shot on the head and chest otherwise,” he says.
The dead have been declared martyrs and were cremated with Guards of Honour in Pashupati on Tuesday. In the aftermath of the loss, there have been rallying cries for justice, and calls for the sacrifices of those who lost their lives not to be in vain.&nbsp;
As Dasain approaches, Nepalis are picking up pieces of their lives and slowly moving forward. But the pain of the families that lost their children will linger for a lifetime.
Nepalis chose their<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/madam-prime-minister-of-nepal" target="_blank"> first female Prime Minister </a>to lead the interim government in the days after the unrest, and the PM has so far dissolved Parliament and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-interim-government-faces-first-hiccups" target="_blank">appointed three ministers</a> who have exemplary public records.
Political parties, legal experts, and members of civil society have raised concerns and objections against parliament dissolution, but many young Nepalis hope that the temporary government heralds change for governance in Nepal.&nbsp;
Says Acharya: “Revolutions have come and gone in Nepal with no long-term improvements. But this time, with the new government, I have high hopes.”

Lingering wounds of revolt

On September 9th, Dashrath Rai from Kantipur TV was reporting from the Lalitpur Satdobato area, when the station’s van with the camera crew, was stopped by protesters twice. “Kantipur Murdabad” the men shouted, and some other men in the crowd showed up to lead them away to make way for the TV van. As someone who spent about 14 years at KTV, I worried for my former colleagues. On September 8, cameraman Shyam Shrestha Dai had been injured during the shooting at the parliament, where 19 protesters were killed. The death toll would rise later to 72. As the reports of arson from different parts of the city came in, I texted my former colleague Rupesh Shrestha, Deputy News Chief at KTV, who was reporting from the streets. Stay safe! He said: Huss, didi. Three hours later, he was injured in an attack at KTV. The station was preparing for the 2PM bulletin when the attacks began. First, they pelted stones, then stormed the office. “We had been alerted of an imminent attack, but we were busy working and didn’t have the time to get away,” Sabina Karki, Presenter and Reporter, says. “I didn’t panic at first and thought we would be able to leave.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250915150928_94e82aa9ccb550abce0f8f6b50c2f29c592cd7fdf51adaf4113b6e9dffc780c9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250915150928_94e82aa9ccb550abce0f8f6b50c2f29c592cd7fdf51adaf4113b6e9dffc780c9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Kantipur TV’s September storm"> <figcaption>All photos: RUPESH SHRESTHA</figcaption> </figure>  Soon after the attacks began, the staff tried to get out of the building. By the time they arrived on the ground floor, it was in shambles. “I thought of hiding in the toilet on the ground floor, but my colleague Surendra Kattel said, if this floor is gutted, we’ll never get out. So we went back upstairs and to the studio building [using the bridge that connects the two buildings]. We alerted colleagues at the News Control Room (NCR) who had no idea what was going on outside,” Sabina says. The staff looking for cover, converged outside the NCR and tried different exit doors but the doors didn’t give. News Chief Bijaya Poudel had to smash the glass door of the studio building so everyone could get out. He was hurt in the process. “Once outside, we saw people had big sticks, knives and someone even had a gun. I felt like I was in a movie scene or perhaps a war zone. We were so helpless. We didn’t know what they would do to us. We stood still,” Sabina recalls. “And then a stranger grabbed my hand and said get out of here and dragged me by the hand and left me outside the office gate.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250915150928_5554643519fe1870bbd2852a9fa233f3dcee5a0ba74db4140550dca6f3358610.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250915150928_5554643519fe1870bbd2852a9fa233f3dcee5a0ba74db4140550dca6f3358610" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Kantipur TV’s September storm"> </figure>  Some others were able to leave with Sabina. They pushed and jostled past protesters to get away from the building but when they tried to check on colleagues, armed men stopped them and made them leave. They ran past Kantipur Hospital and escaped into the inner lanes, navigating scenes of vandalism on the streets. A police station had been attacked. They sought shelter at a random, private home where Sabina waited for almost two hours and then shifted to a colleague's house to shelter for another couple of hours, before she was able to get home that night. “I couldn’t process anything. After I reached home, I felt scared.” Rupesh, who was working on a special editorial when the attack happened, was one of the last to leave the station building. As someone who had been on TV a lot, covering some major political events in the recent past, he became an easy target. “I had been doing live TV, so I was still wearing my studio attire and that might have made it easy for them to identify me,” Rupesh explains. “I was leaving through the gate when they started to hit me. My glasses fell and punches rained down on me. Some colleagues put their palms together and asked the vandals to let them go. They also told me to say sorry. And I said, why must I apologise when I haven’t done anything wrong? They hit me some more. I raised my arms in surrender.” They pulled his studio jacket off him, then yanked off his tie and dragged him away from the building, from where he was finally allowed to go. Rupesh found safety at someone's private home, from where he tried to contact colleagues, who had all fled in different directions. His phone died and it was 7:30PM when a colleague was finally able to help him get home. The attackers kept returning until midnight in installments, destroying more property and torching the building. Rupesh has a fractured nose from the attack and his face was swollen for days. His body is sore. His car was reduced into a skeleton. For the first two days, he did not want to speak to the world. He could not wrap his head around the violence. “At first we weren’t sure whether to transmit or not. Everything was gone and it felt like an impossible task. I had no confidence, I felt scared. How do we broadcast from the ashes, a masan? But then I thought, if we don’t do our jobs, who will?”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250915150928_a4d508f9f974663a72b13c90c834e650b9a1b9fbde121de87b2f587a7edce45b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250915150928_a4d508f9f974663a72b13c90c834e650b9a1b9fbde121de87b2f587a7edce45b" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Kantipur TV’s September storm"> </figure>  The team sat down and worked out what they needed to get on the air again. Since the news studio building had been damaged, they decided to transmit from the scene of the wreckage. They retrieved just enough UPS batteries for one operation. Four devices with a newsroom network system support the current function. Battery back up goes out as soon as bright lights use them up and the teleprompter does not work. When KTV started broadcasting from the debris, some called it a stunt, and others called it cool. “Currently, salary and insurance issues persist but the owners have said they will address them,” Rupesh says, who has spent 19 years with Kantipur, punctuated by two brief departures and has seen many incidents of vandalism. “We hope incidents like this will not repeat.” During the April 2006 street protests, hundreds of people had stopped outside the Kantipur complex in Tinkune to clap and show gratitude for the good journalism it had done. I worked there at the time and I remember looking out the window, tears of gratitude streaming down my face. The same establishment received a different kind of treatment this time. Attack on the media is an attack on democracy and this calls for probe followed by action.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250915150932_90fe8832022207cc856bfa9fe2525605f05f13594f9ecadbe5f47b0e84e0d4bb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250915150932_90fe8832022207cc856bfa9fe2525605f05f13594f9ecadbe5f47b0e84e0d4bb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Kantipur TV’s September storm"> <figcaption>Sabina Karki and colleagues retrieving their belongings. Bijay Poudel, far left, in the photo.</figcaption> </figure>  While media houses are also about their owners and their advertisers, they are mostly about the journalists who run them, giving up their lives to uphold high journalism standards. Kantipur Media Group has had many journalists over the years, who have taken stands for the nation and its people. “We already know this wasn’t an attack by GenZ. This is the handiwork of people with personal vendetta. We already know the protest was infiltrated. This is the work of those who didn’t understand journalists are also people just doing their jobs,” Sabina says. When Sabina came back to the office after the curfews were in place and things had calmed down, she wanted to sit down on the rubble and weep. “Journalists operate on a small salary. Some of us have lost our life’s savings in this attack.” The KTV staff is traumatised. Sabina says she is frightened of loud sounds and strangers. “But at times like this, it’s better to work than to just wait in distress.”

Pratibha Tuladhar

Kantipur TV’s September storm

While protesters were torching the Special Government Attorney Office at Mandala on Tuesday, they shouted slogans <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-gen-z-protest-turns-deadly">denouncing government corruption</a>. They did not seem to know that in reality the Government Attorney’s office was carrying out active investigations and prosecuting multiple cases of government corruption. Their case files have now been reduced to ashes. While attackers ransacked the building room by room and and burnt it down, they said they were protesting the government’s inability to catch the person who raped and murdered of 13-year-old <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/justice-delayed-and-denied">Nirmala Panta </a>in Kanchanpur seven years ago.&nbsp; In reality, the District Government Attorney’s Office has been carrying out and directing<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/justice-eludes-many-rape-survivors"> investigations against rapists and abusers</a> whose victims were even younger than Nirmala. As an ordinary Nepali citizen before joining the Government Attorney’s Office, I had read about &nbsp;Nirmala’s story in the media. It was a major case that shook the nation, and the biggest rape case I had heard about.&nbsp; But once I was behind my desk as a Government Attorney myself, not a day went by when there was at least one new rape investigation file. This was a serial horror on a nationwide scale. The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/incest-sex-abuse,2547">rapists were not faceless strangers</a>: many were fathers, brothers, stepfathers, teachers, drivers who knew the survivors. I found all age groups from all parts of Nepal on those charge sheets. And every file I carried to the courtroom was in the hope of at least someone who wanted the crime against them recognised and the perpetrator punished. Now, all those files are gone. The news from Singha Darbar that the government’s data centre was saved from arsonists this week was a relief. But we lost all our records. The evidence was never digitised, there were no backup files. They lived only on paper, in ink, in fragile white file folders with green strings.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250914120920_353c6e03fa2f4cea8992c5c02ede101b4ad9ccc102f5af8407f333f518ef7200.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250914120920_353c6e03fa2f4cea8992c5c02ede101b4ad9ccc102f5af8407f333f518ef7200" data-rendition-name="original" width="5000" height="3333" loading="lazy" alt="The day justice died"> <figcaption>Photo: HEMANTA SHRESTHA</figcaption> </figure>  When the building burned, so did the only record of those crimes and the identity of the criminals.&nbsp; Imagine entire basements filled with such files: each representing a victim, a face, a life. More than 10,000 such cases are now smouldering heaps of ash. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kathmandu-burns-despite-pm-resignation">Kathmandu burns despite PM resignation</a> Singha Durbar can be rebuilt brick by brick, just as it was after the earthquake. Who is going to rebuild these case files?&nbsp; The social media is cruel: it shows homes of politicians stashed with cash and charred dollar bills. But the media did not show an entire building full of criminal case files going up in flames. The smoke that filled Kathmandu’s sky on Tuesday carried away with it the hopes of<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-chance-on-transitional-justice"> justice of thousands of victims</a>, mostly young women. Our duty as Government Attorneys is to direct criminal investigations, prosecute criminal cases, plead in courtrooms, make appeals. On a normal busy day we prosecute at least five criminal cases involving survivors and perpetrators. THAT DAY On <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-8-september-massacre">8 September</a>, when the GenZ protesters were gathering at the Mandala outside, we were at the Police Club, attending the first ever Women Government Attorneys’ Conference. We wore our brightest blue sari uniforms and pressed blouses. Our heads held high, we celebrated our success as government attorneys who had led the prosecution of the highest number of cases involving <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/not-just-16-days-against-gender-based-violence">violence against women</a>. But the day had other plans for us. By 4 pm the program was halted after protesters were shot outside Parliament. The Attorney General directed us to go home immediately. As the hall emptied, a small group of us young women officers and one senior female advocate walked together through Bhadrakali towards our office. There was an angry mob approaching us. The moment they saw us in our official dress, they turned on us with verbal abuses — words so horrendous that it would have been enough to prosecute a slander suit.&nbsp; Heads and eyes lowered we walked on. They started spitting on us. Obviously, they were pouring out their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/genz-and-aragalaya?amp=1">anger against the government</a> on us civil servants. But they had no idea that the senior female advocate on whose coat they spat had pioneered the law granting Nepali women equal property rights. To us, she was not just a lawyer, she was a hero and a figure we had worshipped in our law books. Her name appears across Supreme Court documents for setting a precedent.&nbsp; We ran to save ourselves from their wrath and reached our Special Government Attorney Office. The mob stayed outside. We waited two hours in silence, praying fervently until the street was calm enough for us to slip away and find our way home. The next day, 9 September, was much worse. The protesters had already torched Parliament, Singha Durbar and the nearby Supreme Court. Then they came to set the Government Attorney Office alight. As a Nepali, I can understand the anger. But as a Government Attorney, I carry a deep scar. There is an immense void and sorrow. This is not about the loss of a building, or being spat at. It is about the silent victims whose stories were stored in all those thousands of files. Many of the survivors do not even know that their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/hunger-for-justice">struggle for justice</a> has ended.&nbsp; We are government employees never affiliated with any political party, doing our work honestly and independently. In the name of demanding justice, they destroyed the very place that delivered it. Mamata Shrestha is an Assistant District Government Attorney.

The day justice died

One Friday night last month, we were swapping stories about Vipassana, a rigorous <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/practicing-mindfulness-in-schools?fbclid=IwAR2X1T9SNG1tWe61UPqMUgHjOWNZ4U1foJyURLJMrjYAsUdr4u_mz1rmC1U">meditation</a> technique of silent observation, over dinner. We spoke of its ten days of noble silence, of respiration, observation, and sensation.&nbsp; I told them about my first retreat in Lumbini last year when my mind kept getting distracted: ‘What is happening in the outside world? Is <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/those-were-the-days-knea0341">K P Oli still prime minister</a>? When I emerged ten days later, he was still PM. During my second Vipassana in February this year, I reassured my mind that nothing dramatic could unfold in ten days. Still, my gut knew this country was always one headline away from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/trial-by-fire">revolution</a>. By my third retreat, I was confident, even cocky.&nbsp; At that dinner, I joked: “What could possibly change? If Oli survived my first two meditation retreats, the world can hold steady for a third.” I should’ve known better. On 1 September, I was back at Shivapuri for the second time, my third retreat, with no expectations — only hope that ten days of noble silence would peel yet another layer from my mind.&nbsp; Vipassana is a paradox: brutally difficult, yet infinitely generous. It is the tool needed to tame and know your unconscious mind, and to know yourself even a little through it is a profound achievement. My room at Z House had the best view of the Kathmandu Valley. I developed a ritual: press my hands against my cheeks and stare down at the city. The city below looks chaotic, but somehow beautiful in its stubbornness, where pollution and pride coexist. From up there, it looked like no one was free, trapped in their egos, pettiness and misery.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250913090920_9e77930ed911289c05a731605157f402c06249347e33964dc59c58d32dc2a6d6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250913090920_9e77930ed911289c05a731605157f402c06249347e33964dc59c58d32dc2a6d6" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1300" loading="lazy" alt="Vipassana during Nepal revolution"> <figcaption>Those undergoing Vipassana in Sundarijal had no idea of the chaos and mayhem the country was undergoing. Photos: AARSALA ADHIKARI(Photo: Sonia Awale)</figcaption> </figure>  Then, softer thoughts of Metta and compassion would emerge. If only every single person could sit in silence and know their breath, just once. Blessed with ten days of Dhamma teachings on universal law, I imagined our 334 patriarchal parliamentarians and the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/house-of-cards?%2F">Oli, Deuba, Prachanda trinity</a>. UNSEEN CHAOS On the seventh and the eighth days of Vipassana (8–9 September) there was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kathmandu-burns-despite-pm-resignation">black smoke rising from the Valley </a>below. Why were people burning all that garbage? There was no traffic on the straight road down from Budanilkantha. There were gunshots, and I assumed locals were shooting at marauding monkeys. I mistook the sound of helicopters at night for flights circling after takeoff.&nbsp; On the ninth day and in the morning of the tenth, it rained heavily. I tried to spot Dharara like I did every day, but the city was shrouded in a blanket of thick black smog. Even after two days of heavy rain, the smoke had not been washed down. This did not make sense, but my mind had returned to the safe harbour of my meditation. Nothing to see here. On the morning of 9/11, the tenth day, as we emerged from silence, the hall outside filled with chatter. Many people left, weeping, overwhelmed by the experience of the past ten days. We joked about our hardships and dreamt of delicious food, feeling a wave of accomplishment after a documentary about how Vipassana had transformed Tihar Jail in New Delhi.&nbsp; The hall radiated with inspiration and hope. Then, as the film ended an assistant teacher made an announcement: “There are serious protests going on in the Valley. K P Oli has resigned as prime minister. There are no cabinet ministers. The military has taken over, and a curfew has been imposed.”&nbsp; The news hit like a lightning bolt. Mental tranquility gave way to gasps of “What the f**k?” In the main Dhamma Hall, some women erupted in applause. We had spent ten days cultivating Metta, only to step out and realise the world had erupted into chaos. We huddled, trying to piece together fragments of what was happening. The Valley was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-turmoil-will-hit-tourism">still covered in black smoke</a>, the main road was still quiet. A neighbour turned up the radio, reporting deaths, destruction and curfew.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250913050944_ce09e04207ef5eb72ea55800b76df0c16a9d46a3eea957a4ecb0d67e978c2595.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250913050944_ce09e04207ef5eb72ea55800b76df0c16a9d46a3eea957a4ecb0d67e978c2595" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Meme doing the rounds on social media"> <figcaption>Meme doing the rounds on social media. </figcaption> </figure>  A first-time meditator, Shivani Karn, overheard a neighbour from wall cross telling his son that people had been shot and that he should not go to school any more. She had wanted to flee the Centre, but stayed on. Stranded foreigners from Argentina to China were bewildered and terrified. Volunteers debriefed us, recounting the shocking details: buildings burning, ministers’ houses ransacked, Oli fleeing, Deuba and his wife beaten up. The leaders were all in the Shivapuri barracks up the mountain. Over 15,000 inmates had broken out of prison. It was a catastrophe unfolding in real time. The city felt ripped out from a nightmare. In the common space, people complained about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-gen-z-protest-turns-deadly">corruption and the ban on social media</a>. But an understanding emerged: both those in power and those who grant it are bound by the law of cause and effect. Driving down from Shivapuri on the morning of 12 September, my heart sank. The smog I had seen was smoke from still smouldering buildings. It was not garbage burning, but the rage of the people. Those were not people scaring away monkeys, but guns that killed innocent lives. The sound of aircraft were actually helicopters rescuing politicians.&nbsp; We drove past Singha Darbar, a charred ruin. Another Vipassana meditator, Anjali Baidya, shared a chilling memory. She recalled being 12 years old in 1973, watching from her home in Makhan Tole as Singha Durbar first caught fire. History had repeated itself 52 years later.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250910140912_e6bf05bfe95f519e05ab8d9016587211b241340fd23a0f9ae728e74747fc5f29.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250910140912_e6bf05bfe95f519e05ab8d9016587211b241340fd23a0f9ae728e74747fc5f29" data-rendition-name="original" width="8064" height="6048" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal in ashes"> <figcaption>Singha Darba, the seat of the government, set ablaze on 9th September. Photo: KAMAL PRASAI</figcaption> </figure>  One Bhatbhateni supermarket after another were scorched, police stations, government offices, once symbols of everyday life. There were soldiers everywhere, not police. &nbsp;Amidst the devastation, a deeper truth settled in. This, too, was Anicca — impermanence. Anicca teaches us that all things are constantly changing, including our thoughts, emotions, and physical sensations. Political systems, power structures, national crises are all transitory. This understanding is crucial for healing. When we cling to the idea that a leader, political system or ourselves are permanent, we set ourselves up for disappointment and anger when it inevitably changes. The Dhamma teaches that responsibility is shared. The anger and fear on the streets are similar to feelings many carry inside. We Nepalis have intergenerational trauma. What I saw was not an abstraction: the gunshots and chaos echoed the terrifying nights of 1 February 2005 in Panauti, a grim replay of the fear I knew as a child at Malpi school, huddling with friends for safety.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/what-next-nepal">What next, Nepal?</a>, Shristi Karki Our national history is a series of ruptures that become personal landmarks. I was nine years old at my aunt’s birthday party on 1 June 2001, when the celebration was abruptly called off and we were sent home into the silent shock of a royal massacre.&nbsp; This pattern must be broken, and it starts now. The path to national healing must begin with individual healing. We can learn from the story of Angulimala, a violent figure who was transformed by the Buddha’s compassion. The Buddha walked steadily toward him and said, “I have stopped, Angulimala. You must stop too.” Angulimala realised the truth, renounced violence, and was enlightened. Cycles of anger and conflict can be softened and transformed. Nepal’s long-term well-being depends on our ability to approach the Dhamma as a pragmatic tool. Inner calm can help us process collective trauma. By cultivating forgiveness and compassion, we can create a stability that begins within. True healing begins when we stop externalising our pain or intellectualising our emotions, and start nurturing our own inner peace. As the dust settles, the true noise begins: the roar within. We are left with a stark choice: remain trapped in this endless loop of rage, or we can deliberately choose to stop. The Dhamma is not some philosophy for a meditation centre; it is the raw truth of our applied wisdom. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/madam-prime-minister-of-nepal">Sushila Karki, Nepal’s first female prime minister</a>, may have emerged as a new ‘messiah’ but we must begin to take responsibility and accountability. Change cannot come from chaos, it is a conscious effort we must make precisely when it feels most impossible.&nbsp; The path forward is not through the streets, but inward — into the ruins of our own self-righteousness. The disparity and deep-seated grudges are the quiet kindling that have brought this new revolution. The rage on the streets is about suppressed dignity, and a burning hunger for justice.&nbsp; It is time to check the recesses of our minds and hearts, sit down, breathe, and to ask: “When do we stop running, and when do we start healing?”&nbsp; Alisha Sijapati is a writer specialising in cultural heritage, and a former Nepali Times correspondent.

Vipassana during a revolution

Violent protests on Monday and Tuesday in Nepal got unprecedented worldwide publicity for Nepal — but not of the kind it would have wanted at the peak of the autumn tourism season which sees more than a third of annual arrivals. Videos on tv and online about the death, destruction and mayhem in Kathmandu have led to some cancellations, especially with scenes of burning internationally branded hotel chains. Thousands of passengers have been stranded in Kathmandu and in destination cities with the 24 hour closure of Nepal’s only international airport. The Nepali diaspora coming home early for the Dasain-Tihar holidays were also impacted.&nbsp; However, despite the unprecedented nature of events this week and the continuing political uncertainty, tourism officials are confident that Nepal will make it through like it did after past crises. Even during the height of the Maoist war, tourists and trekkers were not harmed. “The tourism industry has been through a lot in recent years, such as conflict, pandemic and earthquake. We have always managed to recover, and have learned a lot about how to bounce back,” says Deepak Raj Joshi, CEO of the Nepal Tourism Board. “However, having such situations again and again really hurts our credibility as a destination.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250912130952_31a707c5bec9f2ce4968bcec95a3a1e9beb25d6f20772cb7d081d0d1fd4d0dd4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250912130952_31a707c5bec9f2ce4968bcec95a3a1e9beb25d6f20772cb7d081d0d1fd4d0dd4" data-rendition-name="original" width="4160" height="2773" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal turmoil will hit tourism"> </figure>  Nepal was just bouncing back from the slump brought on by a series of upheavals starting with the earthquake and the Covid-19 lockdowns. The number of international visitors had finally reached pre-pandemic levels, recording 736,562 arrivals from January to August 2025. A series of new hotels including international brands such as Hilton, Marriott and Holiday Inns came up across the country. With the Nepal Army stepping in to stabilise the situation starting Tuesday night and through Wednesday and Thursday, the streets are calmer. Kathmandu airport is back in operation, but arriving passengers have to drive past the charred hulks of government buildings and torched cars. At present there are up to 35,000 foreign tourists in Nepal, many already trekking in the Everest and Annapurna regions. Some of them are in Pokhara, Chitwan and Lumbini.&nbsp; “Many are carrying on with what they came to Nepal to do,” says Joshi, adding that since the airport is open their current situation will steadily resolve itself as the backlog of passengers are handled in the coming week. NTB has organised shuttle services between the airport and hotels for tourists, and these buses had passes to ply even during the 10AM-5PM and 7PM-6AM curfew hours on Thursday. Once a more normal state has been reached, NTB plans to work with the private sector to put out the message that Nepal is back in business and has always been safe for tourists. Indeed, no tourists have been harmed during the protests, and they have not been targeted in past conflicts either. At a hotel in Pokhara protestors backed off when they were told that there were foreign guests, and any disturbance would hurt Nepal internationally. The mob left after breaking a few glasses and some vases and torching swimming pool towels. Foreign Investment However, the negative impact of the protests in the short and long term are undeniable. Visuals of a burning Hilton Hotel has been a powerful deterrent, not just for tourism but also for foreign investors thinking of setting up in a country already infamous for corruption and an unfriendly investment climate. “This will likely deter investors who are interested in building an environment for high-end tourists,” cautions Joshi. The last available Doing Business report by the World Bank that included Nepal was in 2020 where Nepal ranked 94th out of 190 countries, a significant jump from its previous position.Pokhara also saw several governmental buildings including a ward office being vandalised and set on fire. Four hotels and establishments linked to politicians -- Mantra Thakali, Hotel Sarowar, Hotel Pokhara Goodwill, and the recently opened Bagaincha Resort were all attacked. According to Mani Raj Lamichhane, NTB’s Gandaki Province head, most of the violence happened around Pokhara’s New Road area, with a few incidents in Lakeside popular with tourists. “Tourists had already been evacuated when the hotels were attacked, and they are now at Lakeside, waiting for buses to ferry them to the airport,” he adds. A Himalaya Airlines flight from Lhasa that could not land in Kathmandu after the airport was closed on Tuesday afternoon was diverted to Pokhara with 65 passengers. The plane flew back to Kathmandu last night. Lamichhane is not so pessimistic about the future. He says, “Nepal has these situations periodically. We lost the tourists that would have come yesterday, and as we were just going into the season we might lose 10-15% of our business. But we are telling tourists to keep their bookings on hold instead of cancelling them.”He adds: “We really have to put the message out there that despite the violence, tourists are safe and they are left alone to enjoy Nepal’s sights.”

Vishad Raj Onta

Nepal turmoil will hit tourism

The past year has been marked by a series of revolutions and political shocks as young people across Asia have taken to the streets, demanding accountable governments, fairer societies, and economic opportunities.
Binaifer Nowrojee has aptly termed this wave of upheavals 'youthquakes'.&nbsp;
The most dramatic upheaval took place a year ago in Bangladesh, where anger over politicised public-sector job quotas escalated into a nationwide movement to topple Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina’s authoritarian government, leading to the fall of Asia’s 'Iron Lady'.
While some celebrated Hasina’s ouster as a brave stand against authoritarianism, many viewed it as the beginning of a turbulent and uncertain period.&nbsp;
Some raised concerns about the threat of Islamist violence and heightened geopolitical tensions. Others attributed the uprising to public frustration with neoliberal reforms promoted by the IMF. Economist Jeffrey Sachs went further, dismissing the revolution as a US‑backed regime change.
But these interpretations overlook the enormous potential of a bottom-up, youth-led revolution. Despite facing powerful global headwinds, Bangladesh’s youth movement has continued to gain strength in the year since Hasina’s fall.&nbsp;
What began as street protests against corrupt and anti-democratic practices has evolved into a broader campaign for structural reform.
In the year since the revolution, youth activists have not only helped sustain the interim administration but have also laid the groundwork for a transition to electoral democracy. While the road ahead remains fraught with challenges, five key developments offer grounds for hope.
First, youth activism has catalysed the emergence of new civil-society platforms that have encouraged non-political elites to participate in critical public dialogues.&nbsp;
Since August 2024, new grassroots initiatives and professionalised NGOs have triggered a surge in civic engagement, fueling community-led conversations on how to confront discrimination, address systemic inequities, and advance essential pre-election reforms.
Second, the youth movement has made significant institutional gains. Young organisers have mobilised support for Nobel laureate Muhammad Yunus’s interim government, helping to extend his mandate and secure domestic and international support for his election roadmap.&nbsp;
They have also pushed major parties to support the formation of a National Consensus Commission tasked with advancing reform discussions in five areas: the constitution, the judiciary, the electoral system, public administration, and anti-corruption.
Third, in addition to fuelling demand for institutional reform, young activists have taken a bold step into formal politics by launching the National Citizen Party (NCP) – Bangladesh’s first student-led political party. Once officially registered, the NCP aims to provide young voters with a viable alternative to traditional parties ahead of the anticipated election in early 2026.
Fourth, Bangladeshi youth are harnessing the energy of street protests to reshape the country’s political culture. For example, they are calling for lowering the voting age to 16 and promoting transparent, crowd-funded election financing instead of opaque or illicit political donations.
Lastly, strategic engagement with political elites has already delivered tangible results. Relentless campaigns by emerging youth and civic groups have brought together all major political parties to deliberate on a sweeping set of 166 reforms.&nbsp;
Following months-long negotiations, the National Consensus Commission is expected to release a manifesto – the much anticipated July Charter – a formal document listing agreed-upon fundamental constitutional and governance reforms and commitments on future implementation.&nbsp;
These include term limits for the prime minister, the establishment of a bicameral parliament with proportional representation, judicial and police independence, stronger opposition rights, mandatory legislative review of international treaties, and new mechanisms for public accountability, such as referenda and anti-corruption oversight.
A Warning Sign
Still, while the past year has shown that tech-savvy, cross-class youth coalitions can outmaneuver entrenched patron-client politics, the initial optimism may prove short-lived. Crucially, major fault lines could cause the Bangladesh revolution to end like the short-lived Arab Spring of the early 2010s.
The NCP’s growing credibility issues are a warning sign. With two members in government, it is considered a king’s party. Although it is still awaiting registration, the party is already facing corruption allegations, including accusations of institutionalising mob justice and exploiting privileged access to public institutions for political gain. Violent clashes with political opponents have further damaged its reputation.
At the same time, growing dissatisfaction could undermine the interim government’s efforts to extend its tenure. In July, the government’s mishandling of a fighter-jet crash exposed persistent coordination failures within Yunus’s cabinet.&nbsp;
And while the long-delayed trial of Hasina began this month – in absentia – human-rights organisations have raised concerns about the government’s use of arbitrary detention to target perceived political opponents.
Ultimately, Bangladesh’s political future hinges on the interim government’s ability to deliver a fair, clean, and violence-free national election in early 2026. The problem is that the once-united youth-led coalition that toppled Hasina’s regime appears increasingly fragile and divided.
The NCP’s youth leadership must recognise that meaningful policy change is a long-term process that will extend well beyond the next election. With the NCP and the Bangladesh Nationalist Party locked in a standoff over the pace of reforms, the country risks falling into its own version of the prisoner’s dilemma: unless they cooperate, both stand to lose.
To ensure that reform efforts yield more than a symbolic “one-day democracy,” Bangladesh’s youth leaders must prioritise dialogue over confrontation and work to resolve disagreements over timing and implementation.&nbsp;
Continued insistence on an all-at-once approach risks derailing progress and pulling the country back into a cycle of instability and repression, jeopardising Bangladesh’s future after its upcoming graduation from ‘least developed country’ status.&nbsp;
It could also allow Hasina’s Awami League to remobilise and reenter the electoral arena – an outcome that may align with the unspoken interests of a section of the military elite.
Regardless of the next election’s outcome, the fall of Hasina has irreversibly transformed Bangladesh’s political landscape. Having sparked a nationwide movement for structural reform, the country’s youth are now firmly rooted in the political transition they initiated. But as they are discovering, toppling a repressive regime is far easier than building a better one. © Project Syndicate
M Niaz Asadullah, Head of the Southeast Asia cluster of the Global Labor Organization, is a visiting professor of economics at the University of Reading.

Bangladesh’s Youthquake

Many young Nepalis at the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-gen-z-protest-turns-deadly">GenZ rally on 8 September</a> carried banners that read: ‘Enough Is Enough’. But by the end of the day and into 9 September, the arson and mayhem had gone out of control of the idealistic young activists. As Parliament, Singha Darbar, the Supreme Court, public and private property were <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kathmandu-burns-despite-pm-resignation">torched and looted</a>, ‘Enough Is Enough’ took on a new meaning. What started out as a hashtag-led campaign exposing the luxurious lifestyle and extravagance of the scions of powerful political figures soon snowballed into a larger movement against corruption and impunity. #Nepokids in Nepal metamorphosed into a political reform campaign, which again transmuted on Tuesday into class rage. The Oli-led coalition government’s ban on social media last week forced what was essentially an online movement into the streets. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/what-next-nepal">Hami Nepal </a>and the GenZ platform organised the rally at Mandala on Monday despite information that controversial political forces and other elements planned to infiltrate it. Which they did. By Tuesday afternoon, Kathmandu was being firebombed. The three pillars of state: the legislative, executive, and judiciary were reduced to ashes. Even the fourth estate was not spared, and became the target of unnamed arsonists.&nbsp; The damage was not just to physical buildings, but<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-8-september-massacre"> to the national psyche</a>. But just like Hami Nepal emerged from the rubble of the 2015 earthquake, the GenZ movement now has to take the lead in rebuilding from the cinders of 2025. Nepal needs to rise from the ashes, and be reconstructed from the ground up by a new generation with accountable government, equitable and inclusive growth, and an open society. &nbsp; What this week’s upheaval showed, aside from the tragedy of the lives lost and physical destruction, is that Nepalis value freedom of expression and can use it to stand against injustice and keep fighting for reform and progress. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/what-next-nepal">What next, Nepal?</a>, Shristi Karki  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250911120928_e9cf9abfa8e35f3c074506dfdf94a262b5b311da6863cc2ec7bc3458a983df71.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250911120928_e9cf9abfa8e35f3c074506dfdf94a262b5b311da6863cc2ec7bc3458a983df71" data-rendition-name="original" width="6566" height="4377" loading="lazy" alt="Trial by fire"> <figcaption>Photo: AMIT MACHAMASI</figcaption> </figure>  But there are pitfalls ahead. Some of the same forces that piggybacked on the GenZ rally are now outside the gates of Army Headquarters opposing the consensus candidate for interim prime minister. There are scores of imitation GenZs across the internet with familiar cast of characters from the past. The Army must have learnt from the 1 February 2005 experience that it should remain as a non-political institution of last resort — there cannot be wannabe prime ministers applying loudly for the job at the gates of its headquarters in Tundikhel. The Army was needed on the streets on Tuesday night, when the situation spiralled out of control. But it should now be President Ram Chandra Poudel who must take a more proactive role than he has so far in reestablishing stability. He cannot waste time in appointing an interim government led by a caretaker prime minister of unquestioned integrity to oversee elections. This is also the demand of GenZ activists, who want Parliament dissolved and changes in the Constitution to allow wide-ranging reforms. Changing the Constitution now will mean another shaky rigmarole like the 2008-2015 period. The amendments can be made after new elections. Our Common Ground A transformative transition like this also means a lot of uncertainty with competing interest groups trying to take advantage of the fluid situation. Nepal has gone through these upheavals before (although not on the scale we saw this week) with the 1990 People’s Movement or the 2006 Peace and Democracy Movement. Each time, there was hope that finally elected leaders who fought and suffered for liberation and freedom would deliver.&nbsp; Alas, the Nepali people have been let down every time. It has to be different this time. And who better to lead it than a new generation with hopes, aspirations, energy and resolve to build Nepal anew, led by a caretaker prime minister known for her independence, courage and honesty. In this edition, we carry two op-eds by Sri Lankan and Bangladeshi writers about similar youth-led movements that toppled governments in their countries in 2022 and 2024. Both have important lessons for Nepal’s GenZ. If<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/search?q=justice+in+chief"> former Chief Justice Sushila Karki</a> is appointed to head the interim government, she will be our Mohamad Yunus. But as we saw in Bangladesh, it did not go as smoothly as everyone had hoped. Similar story in the aftermath of Sri Lanka’s Aragalaya movement.&nbsp; There were different triggers in Sri Lanka, Bangladesh and Nepal, but one common strand was a neglected and disempowered citizenry which could not take it anymore. They organised organically through social media to push for change. The wildcard in all three countries is geopolitics, and the competing strategic interests of the India, China, United States triangle — especially with the Trump-Modi tiff. Time is now of the essence. The longer this drags on, the more difficult it will be to find common ground and start rebuilding. Ending the violence does not mean keeping things in a political vacuum.

Trial By Fire

In 2003, the death by police firing of a student protesting a rise in fuel prices pushed Nepal’s student activists to join the प्रतिगमन विरोधी आन्दोलन (Movement Against Regression), which political parties had begun after king Gyanendra’s sacking an elected government a year before. The students’ participation elevated the movement and prompted more Nepalis to join in, leading to the People’s Movement that first sidelined the monarchy and then abolished it in 2008.&nbsp; That took five years to happen. But 12 years later, this month, a youth-led protest forced the prime minister to resign within 30 hours.&nbsp; Police massacred GenZ activists, many of them students, outside Parliament on 8 September. This intensified public anger, leading to targeted attacks, looting, and burning of the homes of political leaders, private businesses, and public buildings.&nbsp; Amid the smouldering ruins of state institutions, young Nepalis chose a new prime minister to lead an interim government and deliver a fresh mandate. All of this happened in five days.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250910140912_019d62de4b62a366299a27d1276e931a7dadefcc674441e7fb3acd503970efaf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250910140912_019d62de4b62a366299a27d1276e931a7dadefcc674441e7fb3acd503970efaf" data-rendition-name="original" width="8000" height="5760" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal in ashes"> <figcaption>Parliament building up in flames during the GenZ protest on 9 September. Photo: KAMAL PRASAI</figcaption> </figure>  Students have been central to Nepal’s democratic and political process since the mid 20th century. In her 2018 book Making New Nepal, researcher Amanda Thérèse Snellinger traces the history of student activism and politics against a background of &nbsp;Nepal’s socio-political history and party politics.&nbsp; Snellinger examines the interplay of ideology and identity, explores how student activists fit into a political landscape continually occupied by the traditional elite, and details how student leaders have established themselves through relationships with influential actors on local, national, regional, and transnational levels. The Rana regime’s repression caused students to be politically aware. In 1947, students held the first organised protest against the Rana autocracy demanding educational reforms. The breadth of student activism expanded during the Panchayat era after king Mahendra banned political parties, which drove mainstream politicians and parties underground. &nbsp;Student activists then became proxies for multiparty democracy because they were still able to organise.&nbsp; Student politics was institutionalised, and unions emerged as vanguard sister organisations of political parties. Student activism, more so than mainstream political parties, played key roles during &nbsp;both major movements in 1990 and the 2000s, as they mobilised the citizenry to join the democratic process.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924130940_f94cf97fb7ed98b90b48736e1aa8a76466f50337dffc36ec78e9cd5e6927deea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250924130940_f94cf97fb7ed98b90b48736e1aa8a76466f50337dffc36ec78e9cd5e6927deea" data-rendition-name="original" width="1952" height="2928" loading="lazy" alt="1990 people's movement Nepal"> <figcaption>The iconic image of the 1990 People's Movement agaist the autocratic Panchyat regime of the king. Photo: MIN RATNA BAJRACHARYA</figcaption> </figure>  Through extensive ethnographic research between 2003 and 2015, Snellinger investigates the political coming of age of student activists during the final years of the armed insurgency and their role in and beyond the movement that ultimately abolished the monarchy. Her research revolves around the political journeys of five student activists: Akash and Rishi from the Nepali Congress (NC) student wing Nepal Student Union (NSU), Salini from the UML’s All Nepal National Free Students’ Union (ANNFSU-Akhil), Gyanu from ANNISU-Revolutionary of the Maoists, and Lagan, who began his political journey from Nepal Majdoor Kisan Party’s student wing Nepal Krantikari Bidyarthi Sangathan. The ‘movement against regression’ in 2003 served as the entry point &nbsp;for activists into national party politics. Indeed, it was their &nbsp;participation in the movement that elevated the profile of the main subjects of Snellinger’s research. In the years that followed, the paths of the five activists diverged. Some made it into mainstream politics, even becoming lawmakers. In doing so, they have had to trade idealism for pragmatism, and their attempts realise their previous vision for Nepal’s democracy have been overshadowed by their political opportunism and position. And even decades after they began their journey as student activists, the generation that the book focuses on are still considered &nbsp;‘youth’ leaders. Snellinger quotes a former student leader who joined mainstream politics as saying: “I am still a youth because &nbsp;my aspirations remain unfulfilled.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924130944_7cca095d79fb5ce45cf92c61b77d72c31c5e0931aa744c73e264b6f91efdd29b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250924130944_7cca095d79fb5ce45cf92c61b77d72c31c5e0931aa744c73e264b6f91efdd29b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1004" loading="lazy" alt="2006 People's Movement of Nepal"> <figcaption>A student protester wearing a paper crown and ridiculing Gyanendra with an impersonation, a day after king stepped down and left his palace. Photo: AJAY JOSHI / A PEOPLE WAR</figcaption> </figure>  Meanwhile, the refusal of Nepal’s octogenarian leaders to retire (even after The upheaval this month) has created a surplus of younger adults waiting in the wings, making the word ‘youth’ relative in Nepal’s political trajectory. Other subjects of Snellinger's research have retreated from student and mainstream activism, either in disappointment over their mother party’s retreat from some of their more radical positions, or to &nbsp;continue their work at the community level through education and journalism. One of them has leveraged her political connections to further women-led initiatives after unsuccessful election bids. Nearing the end of her research in 2015, Snellinger observes the disappointment of Madhesi communities whose movement to demand more inclusive provisions of the draft Constitution had gone in vain, even after 45 lives were lost.&nbsp; As the Constitution was promulgated in 2015, TVs were switched off in the Tarai, and there were sighs of resignation. In Kathmandu, Snelllinger noted that the student leaders that entered mainstream politics protesting for inclusive democracy had little empathy for the struggles and similar demands of groups in the Madhes. Despite the students’ role in ending the monarchy, Nepal’s political status quo has remained. The institutions and people that replaced the &nbsp;monarchy have allowed one set of Kathmandu elites to be replaced with another.&nbsp; The socio-political benefits promised during the movement two &nbsp;decades ago have remained tightly controlled by leaders who refuse to give up their hold on power. The political system was overhauled, but without concrete reform. It was only a matter of time before public frustration would boil over. Indeed, Snellinger concludes her book by predicting the inevitability of future movements in Nepal.&nbsp; She writes: ‘Leaders emerge through the andolan … a new generation will emerge shaped by Nepal’s accumulated socio-political heritage, which they will mediate to shape a liveable present and future for themselves in their country, perhaps by continuing the movement.’&nbsp; And that is exactly what happened on 8-9 September. Students marched in the streets demanding an end to corruption and impunity, but this time not as proxies of political parties.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250908120948_8a9acceede487651487c2f15b65e40f900ee6cd390bbf98394eade6b95d05b28.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250908120948_8a9acceede487651487c2f15b65e40f900ee6cd390bbf98394eade6b95d05b28" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Gen Z protest"> <figcaption>A student during the GenZ protest against acorruption on 8 September. Photo: SUDIKSHA TULADHAR</figcaption> </figure>  Their desire for socio-political reform was apolitical at a time in Nepal’s history when the nation’s student organisations have weakened and lost credibility, mirroring the erosion of trust in their parent parties. Along with party-based student unions, the Free Student Union (FSU)— the umbrella body all student unions—has lost its reputation due to corruption and embezzlement. That is not to say there are no similarities in movements past and present. Whether political or apolitical, protests have been overshadowed by a lack of unity within the groups that spearhead movements. They have led to destruction of public and private institutions.&nbsp; Leaders of youth and student movements have also had to bear the brunt of the frustration of the people they represent when there is no delivery on their demands. The academics of students have suffered because of frequent lockouts of university and college administration. Youth andolan, whether political or apolitical, has been a rite of passage into Nepali democratic politics — dissensus is an integral part of political regeneration. It remains to be see how the fall &nbsp;from grace of political parties after the GenZ movement will affect their affiliated student unions. As elections approach, student unions and youth collectives will find their own footing in Nepal’s &nbsp;newly emerging socio-political landscape. The youth who took to the streets are asking for a complete overhaul for political parties. Establishmentarian leaders still have not seen the writing on the wall.&nbsp; NextGen leaders in their parties have been waiting for years for their turn &nbsp;to break through the glass ceiling. These established political actors will not go down without a fight in the run-up to March elections.&nbsp; Amanda Thérèse Snellinger perhaps needs a post-script or even a sequel to her book to see how a new generation of leaders, forged by their student activism, will compete in Nepal's new political arena.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250923190928_98d53dd49d56c92950bc34642eaee51dea458fd64312d945a358ad70e5e994bb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250923190928_98d53dd49d56c92950bc34642eaee51dea458fd64312d945a358ad70e5e994bb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Making new Nepal book details NT"> </figure>

Nepal’s historic youth dissensus

What does a journalist do when young protesters are shot in front of her? Does she do her job and stay neutral? Can you stay neutral?&nbsp; As protests engulfed Kathmandu, Nepal's journalists found themselves reporting a story that was personal. While doing their job, some of them were even targeted by mobs.&nbsp; Dart Asia Pacific Fellow <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/arunkarki/" target="_blank">Arun Karki</a> visited their newsrooms and spoke with his colleagues on their experience of reporting the GenZ protests that erupted on 8 September. These are the first-hand accounts of journalists who witnessed the turmoil in the city they call home. Sunita Karki was at a workshop in a hotel on 8 September. She saw the first waves of protests through hotel windows. Curfew alerts flooded her phone, a vehicle belonging to a human rights group sat burning across the road, young boys were taking their wounded friends on motorbikes to the Everest Hospital, and police were beating a teenager with hands raised up.&nbsp; “I cried a lot,” she said, but the tears were not out of fear -- they were because she felt guilt. “I couldn’t write the news. We were witnessing these scenes from a five-star hotel.” By evening, the death toll had reached 19. On 9 September at about 3:35 p.m. &nbsp;her outlet, the Annapurna Post's office in Tinkune, Kathmandu, was set on fire. Staff had to leave the building as parts of the newsroom burnt down.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924040948_e1cc49c9e4fcc4bd4cd3c0163c782fc4e9956bf633cff7b53a63cf8e2dd74cff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250924040948_e1cc49c9e4fcc4bd4cd3c0163c782fc4e9956bf633cff7b53a63cf8e2dd74cff" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dart Centre Asia Pacific"> </figure>  When she knew her office was burning, she anxiously told her husband that she would resign from the job: "If we have to hide our identification cards in every protest, what kind of journalist am I?" she asked herself. She filed a story the next day, but her emotions kept bouncing between that of a journalist’s duty and shock. She said that in moments like this, it’s hard to feel truly neutral. After watching the police beat people, she felt a strong urge to step in, not just stand back and report. The first real calm came later, when people came to the street and lit small candles together. “This was a sort of victory procession. I felt some relief after brutal days,” she said. <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/angaddhakal/" target="_blank">Angad Dhakal</a> a photojournalist who works at Kantipur National Daily, was standing outside his office building when protesters stormed in and set parts of it on fire. He had already been informed that protesters were planning to torch his office building and &nbsp;rushed to his office hoping to save his hard drives containing ten years of photography work. He failed. He raised his camera and "forcefully" pressed the shutter - more to document the scene than out of "professional enthusiasm or duty".&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924040948_ebafaacb85c4ea045c41f2c63f1eff06fee9a4ddb5fbf419724e1a5d533781fa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250924040948_ebafaacb85c4ea045c41f2c63f1eff06fee9a4ddb5fbf419724e1a5d533781fa" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="It is hard to feel neutral NT"> <figcaption>Photo: GAURAV POKHAREL</figcaption> </figure>  “My office was burning. What should I photograph?” he recalled. A few moments later, a protester noticed the “PHOTO” label on his yellow Press jacket. Dhakal deflected it by saying he was an early career freelancer and YouTuber. So that protesters wouldn't find out, he went to one corner and took his jacket off. When it comes to covering street protests, &nbsp;Angad usually stands near the police because it feels safer. But on 8 September, fire and gunshots made even that area unsafe. A rubber bullet hit his friend Dipendra Dhungana that badly injured him.&nbsp; He thought, “Where do we go now? If we stay here, we’ll be hit.” After witnessing two days of protests, violence, and killings, and seeing his own office burning, he couldn't sleep for days. The same afternoon that government buildings burned and Kantipur was attacked, a message in a protest Discord forum talked openly of 'attacking Kantipur'.&nbsp; Rumours spread to other outlets. Outside OnlineKhabar's office, where <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/article/edit/7376157229248528384/?author=urn%3Ali%3Afsd_company%3A79132377#" target="_blank">Gaurav Pokharel</a> works, the newsroom manager saw “very suspicious people were walking around”. They lowered blinds, avoided windows, locked the front gate and dispersed staff to other places across the city. The outlet was threatened and effectively locked down, but not torched. Pokharel hid his press ID. “ I never showed the ID card. Sometimes I had to enter the crowd shouting slogans, just to blend in among the protesters,” he said. He watched people fall under gunfire, he helped pull one surrounded journalist out of a hostile crowd.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924040948_3b335eee57280373cb51f460534ca4476df23f89c787ba9e4a66d116a537b1a3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250924040948_3b335eee57280373cb51f460534ca4476df23f89c787ba9e4a66d116a537b1a3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="It is hard to feel neutral NT"> <figcaption>Photo: GAURAV POKHAREL</figcaption> </figure>  As a freelancer, Gaurav also contributed articles for international outlets. Later, while transcribing an interview of a young protest organiser, he wrote to his editor at an international outlet : “This was very hard to write. I cried many times while doing it.” He had been working at a stretch for days battling bouts of exhaustion and low blood pressure.&nbsp; Protesters vandalised and set fire within the Singha Darbar complex housing Nepal Television and Radio Nepal. They tried to disrupt public broadcasting.&nbsp; Surendra Paudyal began the day with his press ID hanging on his neck, thinking it would let him move freely. But when he reached Singha Darbar around 3:30PM, the situation felt dangerous.&nbsp; He put the ID in his pocket. When asked what mattered most, he answered without pause: life comes first. In that moment, he felt real fear and a strong duty to protect his team.&nbsp; His focus narrowed to basic things: stay calm, find exits, get everyone out safely. Later, they were able to keep the 8 pm news on air through a regional link. He felt mixed emotions and a sense of relief that the broadcast continued, but also sadness and anger that their own studio had come under attack. Reprinted with permission from the Dart Centre Asia Pacific, a regional hub that provides trauma-informed support and advice to journalists.

"It is hard to feel neutral"

Harry Jackson was on an epic adventure ‘from Thailand to the UK on 2 wheels’ when he ran into the ultimate sidequest. Having just visited Zangla in Ladakh, Jackson had only landed in Kathmandu when he found himself in the middle of GenZ protests earlier this month. ‘<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Slq6zWu9o9w">Arriving in Nepal - Chaos, Protest &amp; Curfews</a>’ is the title of his first video (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/@wehatethecold/videos">wehatethecold on YouTube</a>) about the protest. He shoots police as they shoot at protesters outside Parliament. Jackson is riding a Honda CT125, a retro lightweight motorbike with off-road capabilities. Strapped to the bike is his sparse luggage, flute, and a faded Union Jack. People are rioting on the streets and there is a heavy armed police presence as he makes his way to his hostel in Thamel. His vlog the day after on 9 September has 29 million views. In ‘<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IyxSqeFrlp0">The side of Nepal the media won’t show you</a>’, Jackson rides his bike straight at the crowd just past the Parliament building into Old Baneswar.&nbsp; He parks it and walks among the protestors, documenting it all: from the police firing capsules of tear gas into the crowd to the burning Parliament building as well as the jubilant, victorious crowd in the premises as they destroy police vehicles and dance. “I’m shocked at the scenes I’ve witnessed here today. I have truly witnessed history on a stupid trip from Thailand to England on a f***ing moped!” exclaims Jackson as he leaves the scene for the day, heading back to his hostel to edit the footage. The hostel is in direct contrast to the raucous scenes of the protest, as tourists and Nepalis sit and lounge at tables. ‘KUIRE VLOGGER’ Nepalis quickly called him the ‘kuire vlogger’, and attribute his skin colour to his popularity. Objectively, the videos are well made. Jackson goes full gonzo journalist, putting himself right in the heart of the action, talking directly to the people, all while narrating the events as they unfold. Despite being cut together in an entertaining way, the footage retains a raw, unpolished quality that outdoes what most professional journalists with a heavy duty camera crew could do. At a time when legacy media has been seen to be pushing biased narratives, Jackson wants to see for himself what happened, and make up his own mind.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250925120956_f7141e06c72655502fc4b2e56120d084b0f5ae111078d66df4fd0415adf8d376.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250925120956_f7141e06c72655502fc4b2e56120d084b0f5ae111078d66df4fd0415adf8d376" data-rendition-name="original" width="2880" height="1604" loading="lazy" alt="WehateTheCold"> </figure>  This kind of video journalism takes a lot of skill and a certain personality. Many people, almost everybody, had their phones out at the protests, but only a handful were like Jackson. He interviewed people firsthand, edited the clips and uploaded them the same day. Jackson continued his vlogging over the next few days as the curfew was first put in place and then lifted. He explores the city as the Valley rebounds. By this time, Nepalis recognise him everywhere he goes. Jackson had achieved moderate fame as a 23-year old DJ in Birmingham, but what he has done in Nepal is something else. Almost everyone he talks to has already seen his vlog, and they are all eager to interact. He has been on multiple podcasts in Nepal too, and most videos online on the protests reference his vlogs. Before his Nepal blogs, Jackson had a modest 16k subcribers on YouTube, but after Nepal figure is now almost 700k, gaining over 100k each through 11-13 September. Most of them are Nepali viewers. “I’m just a regular dude who just did what he wanted to do,” says Jackson on a podcast. “I wanted to go on an adventure, learn about history, and learn languages. And I wanted to film it, document it, and have a wicked film for my life to show future generations.” &nbsp;

The accidental journalist

From the echo chambers of social media to neighborhood tea shops, the hot topic two weeks after the GenZ revolt toppled Nepal’s government is whether the country should now have a directly elected prime minister. Although this has been proposed before as a way to end the instability in heads of government chosen by the biggest party or coalition in Parliament, it has found supporters and critics in the aftermath of the protests. As democratic as it sounds, a directly elected executive is not that simple.&nbsp; Nepal’s 2015 Constitution does not allow it, but for a young generation impatient for change, this demand raises critical social, political and constitutional questions. Nepal has seen a multiplicity of systems in the past 45 years: from a partyless absolute monarchy to a constitutional one, a parliamentary democracy and then a federal republic. But they have repeatedly failed to bring stability, good governance or an end to corruption in Nepal. But even though lately they have ensured civil liberties, the public was losing hope for the future, especially the young who could air and amplify their outrage on social media. Unbridled corruption and ideologically mismatched fragile coalitions acting with impunity, led many to conclude that a directly elected prime minister would ensure stability and accountability. ‘We have repeatedly trusted the same political parties, but they have repeatedly broken that trust, so it is no longer possible to trust that system anymore,’ says Miraj Dhungana, popular for the TikTok videos asking young people to go out into the streets to rally against corruption, and seen by many as the ‘original’ representative of Gen Z.&nbsp; In interviews he has stated that it has become necessary for Nepal to have a directly elected executive head through constitutional amendment. Dhungana himself did not participate in the protests after his meeting with pro-monarchist businessman Durga Prasai on 7 September sparked controversy that he as a lackey. Binod Deuba Thakuri of the Nepal Student Union who also participated in the GenZ protests thinks Nepal is institutionally not ready for directly elected prime minister: “Our democracy is not mature yet, our institutions are not strong, and we are vulnerable to social media induced populism.”&nbsp; CONSTITUTION AMENDMENT Amending the Constitution would also open a pandora’s box, with other demands, and should be left to the next legislative body, he adds. In her address to the nation on Friday, Prime Minister Sushila Karki who is a former chief justice also clarified that her interim government does not have the mandate to amend the Constitution to make way for a directly elected head of government, and it should be up to the new legislature and government after the 5 March election.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250919130956_799b2d43dccca73b3bff96e435efc0752203117b2cb219d0073994c0e6f2ee25.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250919130956_799b2d43dccca73b3bff96e435efc0752203117b2cb219d0073994c0e6f2ee25" data-rendition-name="original" width="4160" height="2774" loading="lazy" alt="Constitution Day NT"> <figcaption>Constitution Day address by Prime Minister Sushila Karki on 19th September earlier this month.</figcaption> </figure>  The demand for a directly elected executive head was first raised by Maoist leader Pushpa Kamal Dahal after the 2006 ceasefire. He proposed himself as Nepal’s first executive president ahead of the 2008 Constituent Assembly elections. While the UML did not strongly oppose the idea, the Nepali Congress (NC) stuck to a parliamentary framework. The 2015 Constitution ultimately clinched it for the current parliamentary system. The Constitution stipulates that the process of selecting a prime minister is based on parliamentary strength: the President appoints the leader of the party with a majority in the House of Representatives, or, in the absence of such a majority, a member who can demonstrate majority support. If these efforts fail, provisions exist for coalition or minority governments, and ultimately for the dissolution of the House and fresh elections. The Constitution currently makes no provision for a directly elected prime minister, which means that any attempt to introduce a directly elected executive would first require the careful design of a democratic mechanism to amend the Constitution and set out the procedures for such an election.&nbsp; “There is no legal legitimacy to have the directly elected executive head of the country in the March election, except if political legitimacy surpasses legality but that would mean a new constitution,” explains senior advocate Surendra Kumar Mahato. “Many other institutional arrangements like the appointment of the judiciary, the role of the president, and other check and balance mechanisms would need to be restructured.” Mahato says: “Nepal’s Constitution itself is not at fault — it is the political actors, who have failed to uphold good governance within its framework. Changing systems does not ensure better governance.”&nbsp; Changing the Constitution also needs a broad political consensus, the institutional capacity of the state must be carefully considered to ensure such a new system can function effectively in practice and not simply in theory. Empowering an executive head through direct elections should not come at the expense of accountability or parliamentary oversight, and there should be checks and balances in place. LESSONS FROM ABROAD Sri Lanka’s 2022 Agralaya was fuelled by the anger that the directly executive head turned out to be an authoritarian who backslides on democracy. Under Sri Lanka’s 1978 Constitution, the country adopted a directly elected executive presidency with sweeping powers over the cabinet, appointments, dismissal of parliament, and control over key institutions.&nbsp; Over the years, President Mahinda Rajapaksa removed term limits via the 18th Amendment in 2010, centralised appointment powers, including judges and heads of independent commissions, and used constitutional changes such as the 20th Amendment (2020) to reverse safeguards that limited presidential authority, thereby subordinating the legislature, weakening oversight, and enabling authoritarian control.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250914060932_a96e1046d0b148982b33f2dcbe56f349dc0c20a087e358360eb2dddcfe0b5072.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250914060932_a96e1046d0b148982b33f2dcbe56f349dc0c20a087e358360eb2dddcfe0b5072" data-rendition-name="original" width="4640" height="2610" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ and Aragalaya"> <figcaption>Anti-government protest in Sri Lanka on 13 April 2022 in front of the Presidential Secretariat. Photo: WIKIPEDIA</figcaption> </figure>  Nepal’s multiparty framework upholds an institutional balance where both the governing party and the opposition have defined roles. This parliamentary setup prevents power from being overly concentrated in one individual and ensures accountability through parliament and competing parties. Beyond the neighbourhood, the United States has a directly elected executive system. Donald Trump exemplifies how direct electoral mandate can fracture institutional check mechanisms. He has leveraged his power to attack judges, frame political opponents, turn legal defeats into rallying points for his supporters, often using pliant media platforms to reinforce the idea that institutional checks impeded the popular will. In Nepal, there is a risk that a directly elected prime minister could bring up a populist media savvy messiah who could use public grievances to get to power and consolidate it. Social media can be mobilised and easily saturated with posts to fuel a political narrative of choice.&nbsp; In the past, former prime minister K P Oli’s ‘digital army’ has been lobbied on his behalf on social media. Even without an ‘IT sena’, it is not unusual for governments to collaborate with social media platforms as seen in the US and India.&nbsp; In Nepal, a directly elected prime minister would raise the stakes, turning the battle for votes into a battle for attention online, where a leader who wins the algorithm also wins the elections, just as Kathmandu Mayor Balen Shah demonstrated in 2022 with support from groups like MRR and RONB. The Balen Phenomenon started in social media trickled to the ballot box.&nbsp; The digital space mas ensure that it is not trendy to dislike Balen. Comments that are critical of the Kathmandu Metropolitan City’s treatment of street vendors or of the mayor himself are met with backlash from supporters. Or, if the comments did not get any likes, the algorithms filtered them out as ‘not relevant’.&nbsp; The conversation of Shah often centred on his emotive responses and sentiments, generating strong engagement online. Meanwhile, policy debates received comparatively less attention.&nbsp; “Choosing a leader directly through an election means that we are vulnerable to populism and undermining of the democratic process, accountable institutions,” says Thaukri. Political activist Pradip Gyawali admits that the GenZ revolt was an example of how social media is a powerful tool to organise and disseminate information. But there are risks posed by disinformation and fake news online.&nbsp; “More media and political literacy among the people before the election in March is crucial to control the damage social media could do to influence voter behaviour,” he says.&nbsp; Beyond social media, online news increasingly relies on sensational, click-driven headlines to attract readers in a competitive digital market. A recent survey showed that 82.6% of GenZ (16- 24) rely on Facebook for news and 51.4% on YouTube.&nbsp; Nepali people with higher education seemed to engage with news more (99.1%) than illiterate individuals at 52.1%. Byte-sized headline-only journalism is leaving readers to their own devices, and vulnerable to media infiltration by IT cells.&nbsp; With social media actively shaping the course of elections, and news consumption, debates about changing the Constitution or the system of governance yet again may not ensure the demands for corruption free governance is met. Instead, strengthening media and political literacy among voters is key to prepare for the elections in March. Ayusha Chalise is a communication and development scholar specialising in how politics is experienced in the digital space.

nepal-protests