<figure><img width="760" height="428" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151112/636bb5d09c7e80680e07bc25jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Nepali workers entering the border from India through Behaliya checkpoint in Rupandehi. Photo: MANORANJAN SHARMA</figcaption></figure>In July, as the government eased the first lockdown, people streamed <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/returnees-may-be-taking-coronavirus-to-rural-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">across the border from India into Nepal</a>, spreading the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/as-india-peaks-covid-19-spreads-rapidly-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">coronavirus infection along cities in the Tarai</a>. The districts from Jhapa to Parsa became hotspots. Hospitals ran out of ICU beds and ventilators, municipalities had no test kits left, and there were horror stories of patients dying while going from one hospital to another that refused admission. But it did not take too long for asymptomatic carriers to bring the virus into Kathmandu Valley, where population density and high mobility <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/covid-19-spreads-closer-to-nepals-ruling-circle/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">made the capital an ideal breeding ground for SARS-CoV-2</a>.   With 16 additional deaths on Monday and two on Tuesday, total Covid-19 fatality in Nepal has now reached 429. Kathmandu Valley alone accounts for over one-fourth of all deaths in Nepal from the virus. On Monday, Kathmandu, Lalitpur and Bhaktapur districts recorded 647 new cases (about half the nationwide total of 1,356). The tables are now turned. Even as the Tarai has the virus largely under control, the majority of the 223 patients in ICU and 37 on ventilator support nationwide are in Kathmandu Valley. The country’s only infectious diseases hospital in Teku, despite adding isolation wards, ventilators and ICU beds, has <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-virus-vortex/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">run out of space for Covid-19 patients</a>. “Even with the increased capacity, we cannot admit all the patients,” hospital director Sagar Rajbhandari told Nepali Times. Three months after the government announced it would build a 300-bed hospital just for coronavirus patients, there has been no action. It has not followed the advice of its own public health experts to expand testing and tracing. In fact, the Nepal government seems to have admitted defeat. Its unspoken strategy now is now letting the virus take its course, warning citizens to adopt their own precautions and learn to live with the disease <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/a-covid-19-exit-strategy-for-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">until a vaccine is available</a>. This explains why even as the number of new cases and fatalities in Kathmandu Valley <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-beats-own-record-in-covid-19-cases-and-deaths/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">break its own record every day</a>, the lockdown is being further eased with public transport, flights, shops and restaurants allowed to open. Adding to this is the utter lack of coordination between locally elected municipality officials and the District Administration Offices which issue new and contradictory guidelines every day, and blame each other for the situation getting worse. Locally elected representatives <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/nepals-leaders-are-in-isolation/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">should have been allowed to handle the outbreak</a> like in the Tarai, with the central government only ensuring that they have adequate resources, equipment and medical personnel. “Kathmandu’s response to the pandemic shows that the central government doesn’t trust local units who are close to the people and can respond fastest to their needs,” says Chandra Kishore, a Tarai-based journalist in Birganj. “The focus should be on empowering local governments and health posts to contain the spread of the virus.”Even as Kathmandu struggles to contain the virus with all the resources and facilities at its disposal, Nepal’s capital could learn a few things from the way Tarai cities and municipalities handled the spike and brought the virus under control.One example is Narainapur in Banke district, which first made it to the news as a hotspot back in May <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/with-3rd-covid-19-fatality-nepal-issues-funeral-guideline/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">with over 100 cases and Nepal’s second Covid-19 fatality</a>.Most of the infected were migrant worker returnees from India. Since then, the municipality has brought active cases down to zero. <figure><img width="640" height="398" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151112/636bb5d29c7e80680e07bc26jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“In our experience what worked the best was the collaboration between the local government, CDO office and the Nepal Army,” says Naresh Shrestha, the Covid-19 focal point for Banke district. “This has helped us conduct proactive contact tracing and raise awareness about safety measures. Narainapur is also relatively isolated which helped us seal the access points and better manage the outbreak.” <figure><img width="640" height="435" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151112/636bb5d49c7e80680e07bc27jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>After Kathmandu Valley, Banke has conducted the most PCR tests and of the total 1,662 coronavirus cases in the district, 1,264 people have already recovered. The remaining cases are in densely populated areas of Nepalganj and Kohalpur.Nepalganj mayor Dhawal Shumshere Rana says his city was among the first to be hit with the coronavirus, and had to learn quickly through trial and error.“We didn’t know what was coming. Me and my staff took PCR tests ourselves to set an example for others,” Rana said on the phone. “We now have the virus more or less under control. We still have some cases, but life is back to normal and our people are following safety measures.”In the neighbouring district of Bardia which has a 83km border with India, there has been a gradual rise in cases. In Badhaiyatal municipality, the authorities shut the quarantine centre that had become an incubator for the virus.“After we realised what was happening, we focused on containing the virus in the quarantine centre and invested in contact tracing, which helped us bring the situation under control,” explained Gokarna Giri of the Bardia District Health Office. “But containing the virus in crowded cities and marketplaces has been challenging. We can’t reach everywhere, people have to be mindful about obeying safety measures.”Udaypur in the Inner Tarai of eastern Nepal <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-muslims-face-stigma-after-covid-19-tests/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">was a coronavirus hot spot in April</a> when 13 men in a mosque who had returned from Delhi all tested positive. There was stringent contact tracing of people who they had been in close proximity to, and the district was sealed off for months.In fact, Udaypur’s experience is now called the ‘Bhulke Model’ after a ward of Triyuga Municipality that used PCR tests for contact tracing after false negatives  from RDTs. Infected people were immediately sent to hospital isolation wards, and health officials did repeat contact tracing of the entire community until cases came down to zero.  <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Muslim-woman-activist-Udaypur%20,3997" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Gaighat-based activist Najbul Khan</a> used to travel every day on her motorbike during the lockdown with supplies and essential medicines for communities ostracised due to infection. Her Muldhar Mahila Kendra offered counseling for youth who were mentally stressed, prepared iftaar for the Muslim community for 18 days during Ramadan.“All of us, the community, volunteers, and the local authorities worked together to overcome the coronavirus. It is because of this that Udaypur is a model for successfully bringing Covid-19 under control,” Khan says.In the beginning, Udaypur did not even have sufficient personnel to collect swab samples, and the district hospital’s Parmendra Yadav was working overtime to conduct tests <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/protecting-those-who-protect-us-from-the-epidemic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">without proper personal protective gear</a>. His hard work was met with stigma: fearful colleagues stopped talking, and the eatery he frequented stopped serving him.  But Yadav persisted, he trained lab personnel to bring the district’s limited health services up to speed and received PPE from non-profits in the area.“It was a difficult two months, but it paid off knowing how far we have come in terms of controlling Covid-19,” says Yadav. “Kathmandu could learn from our strategy of widespread testing, contact tracing, and strict border controls.”With additional reporting from Ramu Sapkota.

Sonia Awale

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Covid-19 lessons for Kathmandu from the Tarai

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131148/636a50269c7e80680e04fd44jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="1012"/>This monsoon, precipitation has not been particularly heavy over Nepal. In fact, total rainfall so far has been <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/not-so-soon-monsoon/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">below the seasonal average</a> in most places. Yet, floods have ravaged the Central Tarai, landslides and rockfalls have blocked most major highways, bridges have been wrecked, nearly 100 people have been killed, and hundreds of thousands of people forced to live in higher ground.Floods may be natural, but the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/flood-of-recrimination/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">destruction they cause is manmade</a>. Inundation is mostly the result of flood control levees themselves trapping water, embankments blocking drainage paths, and built-up floodplains constricting the flow of rivers. The good news is that Nepal’s decision-makers seem to have belatedly understood this cause-effect. The bad news is: they are doing absolutely nothing about it.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepals-fatalistic-ke-garne-culture/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal’s fatalistic ‘ke garne’ culture</a>, Anil ChitrakarIn fact, instead of arresting the building spree, all three levels of government allow riverbeds to be gouged out for sand and boulders, increasing the velocity of the water. Elected local leaders we thought would be more accountable turned out to be middlemen hurriedly awarding contracts to themselves a few days before the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepals-fatalistic-ke-garne-culture/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">the end of the fiscal year</a> so their excavators could claw away fragile <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/bulldozing-democracy-2/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">slopes to build ruinous roads no one needs</a>. Most of these have been already washed away in the past two weeks, causing damage to terrace farms and endangering settlements.If all this was not bad enough, megalomaniacs in federal, provincial and local governments are wasting hard-earned tax payer’s money erecting utterly useless view towers on any mountain top they can find. Their slogan ‘One Hill Station, One View Tower’ would be hilarious if it was not such a tragic waste of money.Limchubung Municipality in Udaypur district, with a population of just 12,000, is building a view tower costing Rs10 million for no other reason than to spend the cash. Province 2 has allotted Rs10 million to build a view tower in Sarlahi, where thousands of people are still living on roof terraces because of submergence. And the Far-Western Province is building a tower in Kailali district because everyone else is doing it.But Province 3 is way ahead of the others, earmarking Rs180 million to build towers on 12 mountain tops. Not to be outdone, Province 1 has plans to erect view towers costing Rs80 million along mountain tops in Ilam. The example has been set by Kathmandu itself, which five years ago decided to turn the old bus park in Tundikhel into a 27-floor ‘view tower-cum-business complex’. The bus terminal was relocated, but construction of the Rs5 billion tower never got off the ground. The entire project appears to have been kickback driven, and an elaborate ruse by tycoons in collusion with corrupt officials to usurp the prime real estate.Nepal’s mountains are already the highest in the world. The view from their summits is naturally stunning. Adding another 20m to the view does not make any sense. Instead, why not build proper facilities, public toilets, comfortable guest houses, and a waste-disposal system on these mountain tops?Biratnagar Municipality got Province 2 Federal Minister Lalbabu Pandit to lay the foundation stone for a 110m commercial tower in ward 3, but after much criticism the height of the edifice was reduced to 45m.None other than Prime Minister Oli himself launched a pet project to build a view tower in his native district of Jhapa for Rs2.5 billion. Oli has also commanded that a 150m high statue of the Buddha be put up in Damak. The local government in Morang is installing the world’s biggest statue of a cow. Why such erections are even necessary when the roads leading to them are decrepit, bridges have been washed away and cities wallow in squalour, no one can explain.There is more: a 20m statue of ‘Mother Nepal’ is being built in Mahendranagar. Tanahu plans a 30m figure of the saint, Vyas. Province 5 is putting up huge statues of Kanakmuni and Kakasanda Buddhas in Kapilbastu. But for the most meaningless project so far, the grand prize goes to Mayor Nima Gyalzen Sherpa of Helambu, who is starting on a 60km ‘Great Wall’ inspired by one he saw in China. He thinks it will be a tourist attraction, and will bring more visitors to his district. Someone please tell him tourists do not come to Nepal to look at concrete towers, statues of mythical figures or stone walls.What we really need are more health posts, better equipped rural hospitals, affordable health care and quality schools that are accessible to the poor. It is much more necessary to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/a-klepto-republic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">control corruption</a> and improve accountability. Wish we had leaders with more common sense and integrity.<h2>10 years ago this week</h2><a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/issue/461" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepali Times issue #461</a> of 24-30 July 2009 looked at geo-politics and why Nepal’s foreign policy needed to be deft and agile to deal with regional powers. Ten years later, not much has changed. In fact, China is seen as even more of a threat than a decade ago, and the US itself is headed into decline under President Trump. Excerpt from <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16148#.XTlr9_IzbIV" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Editorial</a>:‘Prithvi Narayan Shah described Nepal as a yam between two boulders, Pushpa Kamal Dahal modified that during the war and described us as more like a dynamite stick between two stones. Either way, it’s inevitable that we’ll get squeezed as these titanic nations jostle for leadership as economic and political powerhouses of the future. Nepal’s foreign policy strategy should be to minimise the danger of getting pulverised, to take economic advantage of our location, and not to play these two giants against each other.Our message to the mandarins in Beijing and Delhi should be: look here, we don’t have oil, we are not all that strategic and we are ungovernable. Just leave us alone, Nepal is not worth fighting over. If the Americans and Europeans want to fight the Chinese over Tibet, they should do it in Beijing, not in Kathmandu.’<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/issue/461"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131148/636a50299c7e80680e04fd45jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="1249"></a>

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EDIFICE  COMPLEX

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

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.”

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