I can’t really claim I had a well-developed political understanding at the age of six years when the Emergency was imposed by Prime Minister Indira Gandhi in 1975. But I do have a visceral political memory of the times, the black cloud of suffocation as well as the spirit of defiance. That I should have such a clear recollection of the politics of the times is entirely due to the way politics was always central to our family.&nbsp; If the freedom struggle politicised our family, future generations carried that understanding into post-colonial authoritarianisms. The centrality of politics to our worldview was sharpened by my mother’s work as a journalist and seeped into everyday life.&nbsp; Conversation at home was peppered with references to political developments, and my grandmother, who had been incarcerated by the British for her part in the freedom struggle (by then both her parents were in jail), was particularly pithy in her scathing comments on the Prime Minister – ‘Mrs G’, as she was known in our house – and her many political depredations.&nbsp; But the memory of the days of the Emergency owes its sharpness to the very specific workplace my mother was then employed in – the Indian Express – a newspaper that was front and centre in the media resistance against the Emergency.&nbsp; As the child of a single parent, I spent vast amounts of time in the Bahadur Shah Zafar Marg office of the newspaper, travelling with my mother, Modhumita Mojumdar, each morning during holidays. Entire school vacations were spent in her shared office space, my presence tolerated with benign affection by her colleagues.&nbsp; In the way that children imbibe and have an astute understanding of their milieu, instinctual rather than intellectual, I understood the Emergency and had a clearly felt sense of its injustice. It was that tangible sense that flooded me when I walked into the exhibition of cartoons marking the birth centenary of the Indian Express’s cartoonist of those times – Abu Abraham. A sense of politics, but also oppositional journalism, tied in with the smell of newsprint, ink, and the long-lost letterpress.&nbsp; The centenary exhibition that is travelling, opened at the India International Centre in Delhi on 6 November, following its inauguration by another stalwart dissenter, historian Romila Thapar. The 1975 Emergency remains a pivotal moment in India’s post-colonial history, the apex of an elected leader’s growing authoritarianism, a dark chapter against which Indians would compare all future excesses.&nbsp; It exacted a terrible price from many, but was also a time of preferment for those who became collaborators, their competitive jousting for new ways to express loyalty echoing eerily in these times.&nbsp; This stark divide – between those who fell in line and those who resisted – was perhaps seen most clearly in the sphere of journalism, the nature of the medium making it public and visible.&nbsp; In a phrase that would continue to haunt Indian journalism, LK Advani – the then president of the Bharatiya Jana Sangh – would tell journalists, “You were asked only to bend, but you crawled.”&nbsp; The verdict, however, was not completely fair. Many journalists were in jail, and for the thousands of column inches of print that served as propaganda – print being the only non-government media at that time – there were also those who used every inch of uncensored space to report on reality and published blank newspaper pages and columns to protest against censorship.&nbsp; Amongst the foremost of them was The Indian Express – and the biting satire of its cartoonist Abu Abraham is a significant part of that storied history.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241110151128_caad280f-1570-4fe3-8e77-a5fb9272a615.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241110151128_caad280f-1570-4fe3-8e77-a5fb9272a615" data-rendition-name="original" width="3060" height="4080" loading="lazy" alt="Abu Abraham on Indian emergency"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241110151128_30f2b8e285cb83f5a9c4d65d2a717745b0cf64d54325ed0dad421f5b6c627b92.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241110151128_30f2b8e285cb83f5a9c4d65d2a717745b0cf64d54325ed0dad421f5b6c627b92" data-rendition-name="original" width="4080" height="3060" loading="lazy" alt="Abu Abraham on the Indian Energency"> </figure>  Whatever the elisions at that time, the Emergency is no longer an unexamined period in India’s political course. Dozens of books, hundreds of articles, research papers, and academic tomes have mapped every aspect of its political trajectory. It has been captured in theatre plays, films, and music, and in the current political climate, it has evolved into a veritable cottage industry of its own.&nbsp; But in the line drawings of Abu – in an exhibition curated by the cartoonist’s daughters to mark his centenary – we are brought close to the moment with an immediacy that is more than memory. In the yellowing sheen of newsprint, the imprints of the stamp of the censor, there is a tangible recall of those days, tactile and palpable, and the sharp sense of the fierce intellectual community of opposition that stood against the depredations on our democratic fabric.&nbsp; Interestingly, Abu’s role as a biting satirist of the Emergency was not inevitable in the early years of his career. The cartoonist’s candid comments about his own life – he also wrote regularly, if not prolifically – have been excerpted as part of the exhibition and allow us to track the course of his political journey.&nbsp; Born in 1924 in Alappuzha in Kerala, Abu’s student years spanned the last decades of the British Raj in the Kingdom of Travancore. Though influenced by the exhilaration of the Independence struggle, Abu is candid about not being an active participant. When he joined the nationalist Bombay Chronicle in 1946, it was not missionary zeal but the fascination of print, he later admitted, that was his impetus.&nbsp; We have cause to be thankful for this lifelong fascination – not only because it led to the production of a brilliant oeuvre spanning more than half a century – but because Abu preserved print, original copies of hundreds of his cartoons and drafts, a substantive part of which still remains, in archives and with his family. &nbsp; While Abu is best known here in India for his trenchant cartoons on Indian politics, especially the Emergency, a substantive part of his early career was with British papers – a decade with the Observer and three years with the Guardian. His cartoons during this time cover not just British politics but consequential global events, such as the Eichmann trial in Jerusalem. He would later return to travel through Palestinian refugee camps.&nbsp; If it was unusual for a brown man to become the first political cartoonist for an established British paper, there was more to come in Abu’s career that was unusual.&nbsp; For one, ‘Abu’ was not the name Attupurathu Mathew Abraham signed his first cartoons with. The name Abu – by which he was known for most of his working life – was coined because David Astor of the Observer, felt ‘Abraham’ as he used to sign his cartoons would be “taken as a Jew and all my cartoons would take on a slant for no reason, and I wasn’t even Jewish”, wrote Abu. What was more, the Middle East was beginning to boil at that time, with Nasser dominating the scene.&nbsp; The boiling Middle East may have also been responsible for ending Abu’s career in British journalism, according to Michael Foote, who is <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/news/2002/dec/07/guardianobituaries.india" target="_blank">quoted</a> in the Guardian’s obituary: “Some years later, as I recall, it was an argument about the worldwide racist disease which persuaded him to return to his native India. A cartoon that he did for us on the subject of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict had been denounced by some of our readers as racist. Never was the slander more ill-judged.” Abu returned for good to India in 1969 to join the Indian Express at a time that would turn out to be a defining moment in Indian history – with the split in the Congress party.&nbsp; At a discussion to mark the exhibition at the Bangalore International Centre in August, historian Janaki Nair, who has annotated an accompanying booklet on the exhibition, emphasised the significance of the Lal Bagh Congress session of 1969, which led to the expulsion of Indira Gandhi from the party and the eventual split.&nbsp; Explaining the impact of the moment on Indian journalism, journalist and author AS Panneerselvan said it marked the end of a post-colonial period during which there was a “consensus on self-censorship in the interests of nation-building”. The Lal Bagh Congress broke that compact, and the role of the cartoonist was key, he said, to opening up the space for criticism by journalists. A self-declared Nehruvian, Abu’s cartoons of 1969 and for some years thereafter reveal his sympathy with Nehru’s daughter, seen then – in one of Indian politics’ gargantuan mistakes – as a powerless marionette.&nbsp; As Indira Gandhi marched towards her position as the unchallenged supremo, Abu’s sympathies remained – for the time being – with her. “In Abu’s cartoons, the dynamism of Centre-State relations and the challenges posed by regional powers and politics is examined largely from a Union Government perspective,” points out Nair in the annotated booklet.&nbsp; But while Abu’s fluid lines and sharp caricatures capture the politics, characters, and vividness of the moment, viewing the cartoons decades later with the luxury of space and time gives us a birds’ eye view of the themes running through the political preoccupations of those times.&nbsp; The cartoons capture the resistance to growing centralisation of power, contentious centre-state relations, federalism, Assam and the citizenship issue, the challenge to the constitution from authoritarianism, and the role of caste politics in elections. The enduring power of these themes in our current times is striking as we view the cartoons now.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241110151136_14d6928a4cdf9c4ae03b1b525c3678d0cc14fd19b20dd0d2eb34bac25ecae2f8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241110151136_14d6928a4cdf9c4ae03b1b525c3678d0cc14fd19b20dd0d2eb34bac25ecae2f8" data-rendition-name="original" width="4080" height="3060" loading="lazy" alt="Abu Abraham on federalism"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241110151132_e866a9bef9f3940ca49e6d9a70f5a84eeaf570b1a618da3033c8c4e998f36e40.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241110151132_e866a9bef9f3940ca49e6d9a70f5a84eeaf570b1a618da3033c8c4e998f36e40" data-rendition-name="original" width="4080" height="3060" loading="lazy" alt="Abu Abraham on Assam citizenship"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241110151132_2612015b8def3484168f75d6983b926b35cf9ff411c326140553fcc173b51a16.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241110151132_2612015b8def3484168f75d6983b926b35cf9ff411c326140553fcc173b51a16" data-rendition-name="original" width="4080" height="3060" loading="lazy" alt="Abu Abraham on Indian elections"> </figure>  Abu’s cartoons also captured the continuities in global politics – IMF pressure, the global arms trade, and issues which have acquired added or more urgent layers of meaning now – the Israel-Palestine conflict, the cold war in Afghanistan, and the struggle for the creation of Bangladesh.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241110151136_29af7fcfbb5ba14ec9ebac61d345d752a7d3c76432226a2befd4af4841bf3beb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241110151136_29af7fcfbb5ba14ec9ebac61d345d752a7d3c76432226a2befd4af4841bf3beb" data-rendition-name="original" width="4080" height="3060" loading="lazy" alt="Abu Abraham on IMF and India"> </figure>  In India, whatever sympathy Abu may have had for Indira Gandhi (he was nominated to the Rajya Sabha in 1972) – appears shredded after the imposition of the Emergency. The biting satire of his cartoons – those which were censored and those which were not – would be a critical part of the reputation of the Indian Express for standing up to power during that period.&nbsp; The curators of the exhibition – his daughters Ayisha and Janaki Abraham – have, astoundingly, been able to showcase the original cartoons, which had to be submitted for pre-censorship to the government, and the drafts, stamped, signed, and marked for approval, or “NOT TO BE PUBLISHED”.&nbsp; Interestingly, six months into the Emergency, the Censor allowed the Indian Express to publish a cartoon that depicted the then President Fakruddin Ali Ahmed signing an ordinance in his bathtub, the many layers of servility dove-tailing neatly into the allusion of the emperor with no clothes. But it balked at a rather more innocuous cartoon that punned: “Don’t you think we’ve got a lovely censor of humour”, and, in a clear exhibition of its own lack of humour, marked it “NOT TO BE PUBLISHED”.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241110151136_7d40d3918d78374e7ec8edbe15f342092d83614b8d669a7b28444c9e239d1850.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20241110151136_7d40d3918d78374e7ec8edbe15f342092d83614b8d669a7b28444c9e239d1850" data-rendition-name="original" width="4080" height="3060" loading="lazy" alt="Abu Abraham on Fakkrudin Ali"> </figure>  While Abu’s daughters deserve kudos for putting together this exhibition using their resources, the legacy of Abu Abraham needs far wider support, including for the very real challenge of preserving brittle paper that records a rich seam of our nation’s history. If the visceral nature of the material – the paper, the notations that relate to the size, display, and even the white-out used to correct the cartoons – give us a physical sense of the cartooning process and the newsroom of those times, then the sharp satire is a pungent intellectual insight.&nbsp; Unlike text or image that tells a story to a recipient audience, a cartoon, at its sharpest, is a riddle, forcing the viewer’s engagement to puzzle out what is being said and what the joke is. By making the viewer complicit and forcing us to think, it changes the relationship of viewing from one of passive spoon-feeding to a political act.&nbsp; Aunohita Mojumdar is a journalist who has lived and worked in India, Afghanistan, Nepal, and Sri Lanka. She is the former editor of Himal Southasian and currently lives in Bengaluru. Republished with permission from Newslaundry. Read the <a href="https://www.newslaundry.com/2024/11/06/from-satire-to-defiance-the-political-power-of-abu-abrahams-cartoons">original here</a>.&nbsp;

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From satire to defiance: The political power of Abu Abraham’s cartoons

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121140/636a40789c7e80680e04a622jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"/><figcaption>Photo: MIN RATNA BAJRACHARYA</figcaption></figure>The International Federation of Journalists (IFJ) and its affiliate Nepal Press Union (NPU) have strongly condemned new provisions to the Media Council Act that will further tighten the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/creeping-control-over-the-press-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">state's creeping control over the media</a>. Nepal’s Ministry of Communication and Information Technology registered the Bill to Amend and Integrate the Media Council Act that would have far-reaching implications for the national media.Media protection groups have called on the government to consult media stakeholders and revise the changes. The new provisions risk turning the free press into a mouthpiece of the government, and has been made with an aim to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/press-freedom-must-be-defended-by-its-maximum-application/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">censor the media</a>, not promote ethical journalism, they said.The move is seen as the latest attempt to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/gagging-the-press-in-installments/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">gag the press in installments</a>, and under it media houses can be fined up to Rs1 million for publishing content in violation of media code of ethics. Under section 18, any media outlet, publishers, editors and/or journalists can be penalised up to Rs1 million for publishing content found to tarnish the dignity or reputation of an individual. The bill also allows for any individual to file a complaint against journalists even if they are not personally affected by the content.If passed, the bill proposes a structure for keeping the Media Council under the government's purview and restrict the freedom of expression and jeopardise independence of watchdog media in Nepal.‘The harsh provisions proposed in this bill will have wide reaching implications for press freedom in Nepal. The media cannot operate in an environment of fear and intimidation, which would be created by many of these proposed changes,’ said the IFJ in its press release. "We call on the Nepali government to conduct consultations with media stakeholders and revise the provisions immediately.”The new provision is latest in a slew of recent moves by the Nepal Communist Party <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/zip-up/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">aimed at muzzling the media</a> and comes close on the heels of Reporters Without Borders' annual Press Freedom Index which saw <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/long-shadows/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal drop six spots to 106</a> this year.First there was the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/strongman-rule/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Civil and Penal Codes</a> that criminalised photography and cartoons that ridiculed politicians. Then the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/suppressed/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Privacy Bill</a> put official documents out of journalists' reach. Journalists have been arrested for violating the codes and citizens have been threatened for their social media posts condemning the government's attempt to restrict freedom of expression.

IFJ asks Nepal to revoke media gag

After a week of violent and destructive protests, Nepal’s President Ram Chandra Poudel on Friday appointed <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Legalese/justice-in-chief,804">former Chief Justice Sushila Karki</a> as a caretaker Prime Minister to lead an interim citizens' government.&nbsp; Poudel had been in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/what-next-nepal">closed-door discussions since Thursday</a> with youth members who spearheaded the protests, constitutional experts, the House Speaker, and the Army Chief. There was a consensus on the choice of Karki as candidate for interim prime minister, but her swearing-in was stalled due to a disagreement about Constitutional processes for her appointment.&nbsp; Youth delegates and Karki demanded that Parliament be dissolved before the appointment of the caretaker prime minister, while President Poudel had been arguing that Parliament would be automatically dissolved once the new council of ministers announced elections. Representing the GenZ movement, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/who-or-what-is-hami-nepal">Sudan Gurung</a> (pictured, below) is said to have insisted that dissolution of Parliament first was non-negotiable because he did not trust the political parties. He is said to have added that he would call his supporters out into the streets, and the President relented. The military’s warning earlier that an emergency would be declared if there was no agreement tonight clinched it.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025091216098_cdd409c5824b578a04f05a43280e3f475d92bf7123d3a4565b4d720768fcc1b3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025091216098_cdd409c5824b578a04f05a43280e3f475d92bf7123d3a4565b4d720768fcc1b3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="600" loading="lazy" alt="Sudan Gurung"> <figcaption>Sudan Gurung of Hami Nepali during negotiations.</figcaption> </figure>  With this, Karki becomes Nepal’s first female prime minister, exactly a decade after she became the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/interview/a-woman-is-as-capable-sushila-karki,3375">country’s first female chief justice in 2016</a>.&nbsp; Nepalis, still shocked by the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-8-september-massacre">death and destruction of the past week</a>, heaved a sigh of relief at the announcement, which was greeted as a victory of youth power for political reform led by the GenZ movement. Its initial anti-corruption protest on 8-9 September <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kathmandu-burns-despite-pm-resignation">spiralled out of control into violence and arson</a> nationwide that claimed at least 51 lives. Several other candidates were floated for the caretaker prime minister’s post. Kathmandu Mayor Balen Shah and former head of the electricity utility Kulman Ghising were being considered, but both declined possibly because they want to contest the next national elections. Given her experience in the judiciary and zero tolerance for corruption, Karki was the favourite of various groups within the GenZ campaign.&nbsp; The site of the negotiations moved to the official residence of the president in Shital Niwas from the Nepal Army Headquarters on Thursday. The Army had come under criticism on social media and from civil society for detaining the President and not letting him speak or be a part of the negotiation.&nbsp; This fuelled public perception that the military had a soft spot for a return of the monarchy. There were widespread rumours on Thursday that king Gyanendra, who was ousted after the abolition of the monarchy in 2008, was trying to stage a comeback by piggybacking on the agitation. Writing on X, senior journalist Kishore Nepal revealed that the Chief of Army Staff Ashokraj Sigdel had allegedly asked Poudel to step aside and pave the way for the military to negotiate, to which the President is said to have replied: “I will not resign. Kill me instead and blame it on the protesters. Then you can do whatever you like.” Live broadcast of swearing in of Sushila Karki:&nbsp; <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/53go4OxuOa0?si=Zd89QGIAX8-7Bm75" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025091219094_41b0f97a5925ab6969e1413636bf073ae43262893a55d9c177cb1312dea52f0d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2025091219094_41b0f97a5925ab6969e1413636bf073ae43262893a55d9c177cb1312dea52f0d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="851" loading="lazy" alt="Sushila Karki swearing in"> <figcaption>President ram Chandra Poudel swearing in Sushila Karki as the 42nd Prime Minister of Nepal.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025091303098_8f2b6f98898c4cd73c271caa51b8e29d679a7385c249380aeb96d7cc2c3f6dba.png" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2025091303098_8f2b6f98898c4cd73c271caa51b8e29d679a7385c249380aeb96d7cc2c3f6dba" data-rendition-name="original" width="1480" height="924" loading="lazy" alt="Sushila Karki PM"> <figcaption>GenZ representatives with new Prime Minister Sushila Karki after her swearing in.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025091301098_470dbca4f4d34ca4533ce4d160045ffe8e525e98380f6f1e20eb24a6236c6029.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="2025091301098_470dbca4f4d34ca4533ce4d160045ffe8e525e98380f6f1e20eb24a6236c6029" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Sushila Karki PM"> <figcaption>Sushila Karki with supporters including Genz representative Sudan Gurung of Hami Nepal and Sumana Shrestha of Rastriya Swatantra Party.</figcaption> </figure>  COURAGE AND INTEGRITY Sushila Karki served as the chief justice between 11 July 2016 to 6 June 2017, and has been known for her frugal ways. She was a firebrand judge unafraid to ruffle powerful feathers, and as chief justice was behind ruling to impeach for abuse of office a powerful head of Nepal’s anti-graft body in 2016. She wrote that he had ‘<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Legalese/the-end-of-karkistocracy,827">neither the moral character nor qualifications for the post</a>’. Even before she became Chief Justice, Karki was one of the two judges on the bench that convicted the sitting Minister for Information and Communication, Jaya Prakash Gupta, of corruption in 2012. Then in 2016, a bench including Karki ruled against granting amnesty to former Maoist lawmaker and convicted murderer Bal Krishna Dhungel. Karki was born on 7 June 1952 in Biratnagar. She completed her undergraduate studies at Mahendra Morang College in 1972 before obtaining a postgraduate degree in political science from Banaras Hindu University in India three years later. This was followed by a Bachelor's in Law in 1978 from Tribhuvan University, and she started her law career as an advocate a year later. In 1985, Karki worked as a teacher at Mahendra Multiple Campus in Dharan, and was jailed for participating in the 1990 People’s Movement to overthrow the Panchayat absolute monarchy. She became a senior Advocate at the Nepal Bar Association in 2008 and was appointed an Ad-Hoc Justice at the Supreme Court in January 2009.&nbsp; On Thursday, there were supporters for other candidates for the post sloganeering against Karki’s nomination outside the Army Headquarters. Some on social media were also skeptical of her connection to the Nepali Congress (NC) party. Growing up in Biratnagar Karki was close to the family of B P Koirala, Nepal’s first elected prime minister in 1960. Her husband Durga Subedi was part of a group of underground Congress activists who hijacked a Royal Nepal Airlines plane in 1973, flying it to India to snatch cash belonging to Nepal Rastra Bank in the cargo hold.&nbsp; The money was used for the party’s pro-democracy campaign. Karki has no love lost for the political establishment. In April 2017, the governing coalition under Maoist Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/lady-justice-sushila-karki,3693">submitted an impeachment motion against her</a> after the Supreme Court overturned his decision to install a favoured police chief, violating succession based on seniority. It was a political move backed by Dahal’s coalition partner Sher Bahadur Deuba of the NC who was waiting to become prime minister for the 4th time. CHALLENGES AHEAD With Karki now in charge of the interim government, she has the daunting task of forming a council of ministers made up of amorphous and disparate groups from the GenZ, technocrats, and current politicians. Karki has said she will not prevent members of her cabinet from contesting elections, which means those with electoral aspirations like Kulman Ghising, Balen Shah and Sumana Shrestha could be asked to join. Karki has her work cut out as she has to get her team members to pull in the same direction to hold free and fair elections. She also has to make sure she has the support of the military without giving the generals too much say, while also smartly maneuvering Nepal’s precarious geopolitical ties with its giant neighbours, China and India. But most of all, the new prime minister must lay the foundations to not just physically rebuild the judiciary, executive and legislature but also ensure that elections will produce a more accountable and efficient government. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/trial-by-fire">Trial By Fire</a>, Editorial

Madam Prime Minister of Nepal

Many had never heard of <a href="https://www.haminepal.org/">Hami Nepal</a>, the organisation that is part of the GenZ movement that did not just topple the government this week, but <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/what-next-nepal">pushed Nepal’s political system into new, uncharted territory</a>. It was part of an organic coming together of various youth groups fed up with Nepal’s corruption, mismanagement and lack of accountability. Hami Nepal and its GenZ comrades are now part of the negotiations with the Army to form an interim government. Hami Nepal is a non-profit dedicated to supporting communities and individuals in need, guided by its motto ‘For the People, By the People’. Its core mission is to assist individuals and communities in need, particularly during emergencies and crises, with a focus on directly connecting donors with recipients, and delivering aid efficiently and transparently. It was set up after the 2015 earthquake, but was formally registered and gained recognition in 2020 during the Covid-19 pandemic. Hami Nepal is led by 36-year-old civic activist Sudan Gurung who started the organisation after he lost his own son in the 2015 earthquake.&nbsp; Leading up to the events this week, it played a central role in guiding the demonstrations, using its Instagram and Discord platforms to circulate protest information and share guidelines. Other GenZ groups used their own WhatsApp groups and other fora.&nbsp; Among the 20 or so volunteers is Ronesh Pradhan, who spoke to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-gen-z-protest-turns-deadly">Nepali Times on 8 September </a>morning during the GenZ rally, before the violence escalated.&nbsp; “The voices of young people matter. We can’t keep being ruled by the same old men,” Pradhan said. “Our generation is the future and if there are older leaders in government, they need to be competent and accountable. We are ready to lead this country forward.” Hami Nepal’s earliest visible campaigns include donating more than 400 blankets to Bir Hospital’s Covid unit in 2022, creating a plasma and oxygen bank during the pandemic, and distributing school jackets to children in rural districts. More recently, it mounted a relief effort in response to the 2023 Jajarkot earthquake, reaching over 13,000 families with shelter, food, and medical support. The organisation was also associated with the two-month ‘Save Ghopa’ campaign, demanding effective and smooth administration of the BPKIHS (B P Koirala Institute of Health Sciences) in Dharan. The organisation was also actively engaged in providing rescue and relief during the Kagbeni and Sindhupalchok floods this year. It even sent aid to Turkey after its 2023 earthquake. After the Kavre floods last year, Hami Nepal donated solar lights. Funding for Hami Nepal comes directly from public donations, with a policy of channeling 100% of received funds for aid distribution. Volunteers self-finance administrative costs, and the group publishes detailed expenditure figures, regularly sharing updates and transparency reports through their social media and website which it launched at its Annual General Meeting in Bhaktapur last year.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250911090920_cd40c472bd7e06cc038a2d77a431cba777b6f53e4374a0216c9af2c4feb56c88.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250911090920_cd40c472bd7e06cc038a2d77a431cba777b6f53e4374a0216c9af2c4feb56c88" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="719" loading="lazy" alt="Who, or what, is Hami Nepal?"> </figure>  Following the death of Nepali student Prakriti Lamsal at KIIT University in India earlier this year, Hami Nepal advocated for justice using its Instagram account, raising concern about the safety of Nepali students. Its advocacy platform started with rescue and relief, and Hami Nepal managed to develop a track record for efficient campaigns and transparency in Nepal’s humanitarian landscape. But its work pushed the group to realise that there was a deeper malaise in Nepali society. Its #youthsagainstcorruption campaign on social media platforms gained rapid momentum, and that led to the rally on 8 September. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-8-september-massacre">Nepal’s 8 September massacre</a>, Shristi Karki The international #Nepobaby trend on TikTok propelled the rally even more, and young Nepalis used it to expose the scions of powerful politicians and politically-connected influencers who were exhibiting their flashy lifestyles on social media while citizens struggled with joblessness, corruption and poor service delivery. Public anger reached a tipping point when the UML-NC coalition led by Prime Minister K P Oli announced a sweeping ban on major social media platforms citing tax revenue, cyber security, and lack of content moderation. Netizens, civil society and media, however, saw it as the latest authoritarian attempt by the government to clamp down on free speech, increase surveillance of citizens and constrict Nepal’s open society. Susmita Khadka, 22, told us at the rally: “Politics is everywhere. Gen Z has the most platforms, and we want a revolution.” Leading up to 8 September, the GenZ movement disseminated information and reassured participants with volunteers readily available for help, medical support, and assistance. It put up a protest support helpline so that students needing assistance could get help. As the protests intensified, leaving at least 20 dead outside Parliament, and forcing Prime Minister K P Oli to resign, Hami Nepal shifted into a mediator role, engaging in talks with officials and seeking GenZ’s views on future leadership.&nbsp; Influencers like TikToker Nimesh Shrestha publicly backed the group, amplifying their voice in ongoing negotiations with the Nepal Army alongside other GenZ representatives. However, as the protests escalated on 9 September, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kathmandu-burns-despite-pm-resignation">resulting in massive arson and vandalism of public and private property</a>, many GenZ activists disavowed association with the attackers, saying their movement had been infiltrated. The group backtracked, with Gurung saying he was not the leader of the protests.&nbsp; Meanwhile, others accused Hami Nepal for singlehandedly speaking with the Army chief, and said that they did not represent GenZ’s collective voice. Most GenZ supporters backed <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Legalese/justice-in-chief,804">Former Chief Justice Sushila Karki</a> as their candidate for interim prime minister in an online group. Not everyone in the GenZ movement agrees with that choice, with support for Kathmandu Mayor Balen Shah, even though he has endorsed Karki’s appointment. Dharan Mayor Harka Sampang rushed to Kathmandu on Wednesday to push his own candidacy. Hami Nepal has supported Balen Shah to lead the country for the next five years, not just during the interim period, and have called on the public to share their posts supporting Shah to amplify the message. With the old guard gone, there is a power vacuum with multiple actors with competing interests to fill it. GenZ’s youth-led activism has brought new energy for political reform, but its real test begins now — whether it can unite Hami Nepal and other sections to negotiate with the Nepal Army.&nbsp;

Who, or what, is Hami Nepal?

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

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.

press-freedom-in-nepal

From satire to defiance: The political power of Abu Abraham’s cartoons

IFJ asks Nepal to revoke media gag

Madam Prime Minister of Nepal

Who, or what, is Hami Nepal?

Vipassana during a revolution

Trial By Fire