One July afternoon in Gaur, after weeks of drought, the long-awaited rain finally arrived. Children were splashing in puddles, laughing and dancing with their friends. But while rain in the plains brings relief, fear settles in when it pours in the mountains to the north for too long. That is when the floods are unleashed. Madhes Province suffered a prolonged drought in June and July — wells went dry, paddy fields were desiccated, and parts of the Tarai suffered a cholera outbreak because of contaminated water. When the monsoon rains finally came last week, it <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/more-dark-clouds-over-nepal?amp=1">arrived with a vengeance</a>. Aside from the physical scars of droughts and floods, these weather extremes also leave scars that are less visible: in the minds and mental well-being of residents here. Gaur is the capital of Rautahat district, close to the border with India. It is <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-tarai-learns-from-past-floods">prone to chronic floods</a> because it is astride the confluence of two rivers: the Bagmati and the Lalbakaiya. People here still remember the devastating floods of August 2017 when 70% of Rautahat was under water as both rivers overflowed their banks. Weather extremes caused by climate change combined with poorly engineered road embankments, blocked drainage basins, sand mining along rivers, and settlements along floodplains have increased the death and destruction. Floods are also exacerbated by flood control levees across the border in India and improper sluice gates that disrupt the rivers’ natural drainage. This causes floodwaters to back up, submerging settlements on the Nepal side. This past week, Rautahat received up to 330mm of rain in 24 hours — the highest in Nepal. Gaur was once again completely inundated. As before, people found themselves alone with little to no external support at the time of crisis. SURVIVAL MODE Aside from the physical impacts of floods, people suffer anxiety spikes, their decision-making falters as the brain enters survival mode. Fight, flight, or freeze becomes the norm, often leaving people unable to decide what to do when clarity is most needed. Nighttime floods are especially perilous: with power out and darkness setting in, one’s own village becomes a maze. While a few community buildings serve as temporary shelters, reaching them is often impossible. “At such times, you don’t even know where to get out from or how to escape,” a woman from Rajdevi told us. “There’s only my father-in-law at home, so we face the dilemma of whether he should focus on saving our belongings or the people and on top of that, we don’t know how to swim.” For generations, communities have relied on men’s decision-making even during disasters. But with most men away for work, villages are left predominantly with women and elderly men. This makes floods are as much a social crisis as a natural one, especially in a society where roles and responsibilities are gendered. Women face heightened stress managing childcare, domestic duties, household suppression and food scarcity, compounded by gender-based violence which is prevalent in the region.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251010081028_d453cb955b1574a1376ce5cb0f7055c0e210a1e6a70f1cad0ca7306842a006fe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251010081028_d453cb955b1574a1376ce5cb0f7055c0e210a1e6a70f1cad0ca7306842a006fe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Flooded with memories of floods NT NT"><figcaption>Passengers board the only available boat to cross the Bagmati River; a second operates only when the water level rises.</figcaption></figure>  As for men, they feel intense pressure to provide and protect their family. When they cannot do that in situations like a flood, feelings of guilt, shame and failure can emerge, affecting their well-being. Those who survive face nights with or without shelter, swarmed by mosquitoes and struggling with food scarcity. “We survive on one day’s worth of roti for days when the flood comes, there are no vegetables, no firewood or gas to cook,” the woman added. For many families, daily subsistence is already fragile, and floods only deepen hunger and hardship, heightening stress, anxiety, and psychological trauma, especially among caregivers and children. Malnutrition further intensifies emotional strain and long-term mental health risks. Marginalised communities, particularly Dalits, bear the heaviest burden yet are often the most neglected. During the 2017 floods, around 40 Dalit families were displaced from their settlements, some forced to live under open skies. Some 15% of Rautahat’s population of 700,000 is Dalit. Many were excluded from relief distributions or discouraged from sharing shelters with other communities due to entrenched caste-based discrimination. For these families, floods are not just a disaster but an emotional scar. Dalit women face double discrimination because of caste and gender, fostering a deep sense of abandonment, helplessness, shame, and isolation. In Rautahat, where most families live off the land, the flood undos years of labour and livelihood. When fertile fields or blooming crops submerge and fish ponds are washed away, families lose not only their income but their sense of stability. Agriculture here is more than an occupation, it is tied to identity, dignity, and hope. Repeated crop failure, mounting debt, and uncertainty about the next harvest often lead to anxiety, sleeplessness, and hopelessness, which are silent stressors of Nepal’s agricultural belt. During these crises, villagers rely heavily on family, neighbours, and the limited boats available to cross rivers. Local government responses have often been delayed, and with roads cut off, help arrives late, if at all. That delay breeds distrust and helplessness, deepening the psychological toll long after the waters recede. The people of Gaur and across Rautahat do not have the capacity to deal with aftermath mental issues from the flood as access to such care remains limited. Most cases are often referred outside the district to Kathmandu and Birganj or even across the border to Patna and Delhi. Locals do not trust existing mental health units, they also feel unheard and unsupported. The government provides free psychiatric medicines but they should focus on establishing competent, well equipped mental health institutions with an adequate number of professionals for regular access and strong continuity of care for effective recovery. As floods continue to test the resilience of Rautahat’s people, the need for proper anticipatory action grows ever more urgent. Preventing loss of life and property must go hand in hand with protecting the community’s mental well-being. From a psychosocial perspective, expanding initiatives like giving Psychosocial First Aid training and projects like Sajag Samaj, an anticipatory action project launched in April 2025 can make a real difference. They help communities prepare before disaster strikes, fostering coping skills, awareness, and collective resilience. At the same time, the government and local authorities must strengthen mental health support within disaster response plans, build infrastructures that reduce flood risks and safeguard livelihoods, and ensure that disaster relief is inclusive reaching Dalits, women, and other marginalised groups who are too often left behind. Anek Rajbhandari is program and communication intern at the Institute of Himalayan Risk Reduction.

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Opinion

Flooded with memories of floods

At least 52 people have been killed in Nepal due to landslides and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/more-dark-clouds-over-nepal">floods triggered by heavy rainfall</a> that started late last week along the Chure Hills and Madhes province before it moved to the eastern parts of the country. Kathmandu was spared this time unlike the 28 September 2024 cloudburst that saw over 200 deaths, many of them in the capital city and central Nepal.&nbsp; In recent decades, South Asia has witnessed increasingly frequent episodes of heavy rainfall, leading to recurrent floods in several major Indian cities which have lessons for Nepal too. For example, the Indian city of Chennai experienced major floods in 2005, 2015, and 2023. While every flood is distinct, the impacts have been devastating and appear to be worsening over time. The 2023 floods were the most severe in 47 years. Many times these floods are attributed to climate change, but fundamental questions are often overlooked. To what extent have human errors historically worsened flood impacts? Are we attributing too much to climate change while overlooking development blunders?&nbsp; How effective has the State’s conventional approach been in managing floods and droughts? What corrective measures have been implemented so far? What lessons can be drawn from past extreme events and floods? What strategies are needed to make cities more flood-resilient? How can disasters be transformed into opportunities—for instance, by securing a reliable and abundant urban water supply? As a coastal city, Chennai must also contend with coastal flooding and sea-level rise linked to climate change. The real challenge lies in decoding Chennai’s urban and peri-urban hydrology, understanding its ecosystem in its entirety, and making meaningful, science-based interventions for both flood mitigation and drought management. The key is to design and implement climate-resilient strategies for the city-region.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251006131048_9629bc03c2b04a9b14d1c3edc41ce0d620833f0900995516bbf7ff4784db4461.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251006131048_9629bc03c2b04a9b14d1c3edc41ce0d620833f0900995516bbf7ff4784db4461" data-rendition-name="original" width="607" height="239" loading="lazy" alt="Chennai 2023 flood"> <figcaption>A flooded Chennai in 2023.</figcaption> </figure>  TANK WATERSHEDS: UPSTREAM AND DOWNSTREAM Kancheepuram, Chengalpattu, and Tiruvallur districts together once had 1,942 and 1,646 irrigation tanks, some of them very large. These man-made tanks were created by constructing earthen embankments across streams that carried monsoon floods. They were ingeniously designed so that surplus water from an upstream tank would feed into the next one downstream, creating a cascading system of water storage. Today, however, these tanks are neglected—silted up, with broken bunds and damaged control structures. Catchment areas, floodplains, feeder channels, and even the tank water-spread areas have been encroached upon and degraded. The result is a double blow: the tanks now store very little water, while surface runoff is extremely high (over 80%). Together, this has left Chennai highly vulnerable to both floods and water scarcity. To minimise risks, the following steps are critical: - Study urban and peri-urban water dynamics to understand interconnected hydrological conditions. - Map all water bodies (around 4,000) spread across the 5,904 sq km of the proposed city region covering Tiruvallur, Chengalpattu, Kancheepuram, and parts of Ranipet districts. These areas are increasingly urbanised, making protection from encroachment urgent. - Protect catchment areas, inlet and surplus channels, foreshore zones (tank floodplains), and bunds while restoring missing links between tanks. - Restore water bodies to their original capacity—and, where feasible, even double the capacity—so that excess monsoon water can be captured and stored, substantially reducing runoff. - Prepare a comprehensive hydro-elevation (drainage) map covering upstream and downstream watersheds, linking Chennai and the sea. Such a systematic approach can revive the traditional tank system, reduce flood risks, and improve water security for Chennai and its surrounding districts. NATURAL FLOOD CARRIERS Chennai is geographically unique, and this is truly a blessing. The city is traversed by three major rivers—something no other city in India or South Asia can claim. The Kosasthalaiyar runs through North Chennai, the Cooum through Central Chennai, and the Adyar through the South; further south, the Palar carries additional flows. Each of these rivers also feeds numerous tanks before emptying into the Bay of Bengal. Adding to this network, the Buckingham Canal cuts across all four rivers near the coast. Unfortunately, these vital drainage systems are in poor condition due to heavy encroachments, particularly on their floodplains. Sludge and silt deposits have reduced their natural gradient and flow velocity. Though there have been several attempts to restore the rivers and the Buckingham Canal, progress has been limited. What these waterways need is sustained, year-round care and maintenance—not cosmetic “riverfront” or “canalfront” beautification projects. Beyond the major rivers, Chennai also depends on a network of macro and micro drains such as Okkiam Maduvu, Mambalam Canal, Velachery Canal, Kodungaiyur Drain, Otteri Nallah, Virugambakkam/Arumbakkam Canal, Veerangal Odai, Captain Cotton Canal, Villivakkam Canal, and many more. These too require consistent upkeep, alongside the city’s 3,600 km of stormwater drains.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251006131044_22f8154105b0d533cfdff62a4164b9fa2caa4100fc1b6c56dcf6d32d3c031488.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251006131044_22f8154105b0d533cfdff62a4164b9fa2caa4100fc1b6c56dcf6d32d3c031488" data-rendition-name="original" width="897" height="711" loading="lazy" alt="Chennai map NT"> </figure>  REDISCOVERING FLOODS At the same time, we must acknowledge that Chennai’s urban expansion has been among the fastest in the country. Expansion is irreversible, and if left unregulated, it can be disastrous.&nbsp; When the city limits were extended from 174 sq km to 426 sq km, and the Chennai Metropolitan Area (CMA) to 1,189 sq km, little attention was paid to protecting ecological hotspots in the newly added zones. As a result, many lakes and ponds have been lost, while most of the Pallikaranai marshland and coastal wetlands have been encroached upon. The Chennai Metropolitan Development Authority (CMDA) originally planned to expand the CMA from 1,189 to 5,904 sq km—covering the entire districts of Tiruvallur, Chengalpattu, Kancheepuram, and parts of Ranipet under the III Master Plan. But, now the CMA has decided not to expand the area but perhaps intends to go for vertical development with a higher floor space index (FSI).&nbsp; Increasing the FSI and opting to go vertical development will have very serious consequences for stormwater drainage as well as sewage management, mainly because of increasing population density.&nbsp; At the very least, and at least now, the CMDA must identify and notify ecological hotspots, protecting the existing 4,000 lakes, floodplains, forests, major drains, flood buffers, and wetlands is essential. Without this, the city will once again find itself hiding behind climate change as an excuse for accumulated planning and development failures Chennai city, like many other urban regions, can be permanently made less risky from floods while also ensuring round-the-clock water supply even in drought years—if the measures outlined above are implemented with utmost commitment. This is the essence of turning disaster into opportunity.&nbsp; Yet, such possibilities stand in stark contrast to today’s dominant model of global growth, which is not merely extractive but aggressively competitive, accelerating capital concentration and reducing elected governments to mere instruments of corporate power. In its wake, land, water, and air are ravaged, biodiversity is shredded, and human suffering deepens.&nbsp; These models hardly address the well-being of the people and the sustainability of development. As a result, what one encounters is the increasing economic inequality, erosion of natural resources, and increasing ecological imbalances. The catastrophic urban floods we now witness are thus part of this same trajectory, rooted in the mismanagement of key natural resources such as land, water, and ecological hotspots like forests, wetlands and riverbanks. Furthermore, there is an absolute lack of coordination among urban land use planners, real estate developers, municipal authorities, and key water resources departments. These corrective measures are most critical to save the cities from floods. Republished from the <a href="https://soanas.org/rediscovering-floods/" target="_blank">original</a> on the South Asia Nadi Sambad (SOANAS).

Lessons for Nepal from the Chennai floods

The annual United Nations General Assembly is always an occasion for taking stock of the state of the world. But this year, on the 80th anniversary of the UN’s founding, it was also an occasion to take stock of the organisation itself.
By any measure, the UN’s situation is dire. While Russian aggression against Ukraine and mounting tensions between the United States and China cannot be blamed on the UN, they do highlight a fundamental problem. The UN Security Council – where China, Russia, and the US each wield a veto – is locked in a permanent confrontation over one issue or another, blocking the rest of the organisation from moving forward on almost anything.
Consider the situation in the Middle East, where the UN has played a central role in conflict resolution and peacemaking ever since the State of Israel was established (under a UN resolution). Numerous UN peacekeeping operations in the region have helped to alleviate tensions, and massive humanitarian efforts, primarily aimed at Palestinian refugee communities, have saved countless lives. While the UN has not forged a lasting peace, it has certainly helped prevent some wars and shorten others.
In recent years, however, the UN has increasingly been sidelined. The so-called Quartet – the UN, the US, the European Union, and Russia – is now a distant memory, and numerous UN operations have come under direct attack, primarily by Israel. The Israeli government not only questions the humanitarian efforts of UNRWA (the UN Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees) but now also blocks the organisation’s work whenever it can.
Before Hamas’s October 7, 2023, attack on Israel, the UN was essential to keeping the situation in Gaza relatively stable. Though it couldn’t overcome divisions among the Palestinians, especially after Hamas assumed power in Gaza in 2006, it could, and did, help provide the basic means of survival for the enclave’s two million people. But now Israel has questioned or attacked virtually every aspect of the UN’s work on this issue, and it could not have done so without America’s tacit support. US President Donald Trump, in particular, has proved willing to accept virtually everything that Israeli Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu’s extremist government does.
Meanwhile, the UN has struggled to mobilise an effective response in South Sudan, a semi-failed state, and in Sudan, where a devastating civil war is entering its third year. Similarly, from the Katanga secession in 1960-63 to the recent peace operations in northeastern Congo, Central Africa continues to preoccupy UN peacekeepers and mediators.
Around the world, there is no shortage of crises that demand UN engagement – from Gaza and Sudan to the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Haiti, Myanmar, and Afghanistan, to name just a few. But with the larger powers fixated on their confrontations with one another, and with the Trump administration withdrawing not only active support but also funding, the outlook for the UN appears grim.
The US provides 25% of UN funding, but it has <a href="https://www.project-syndicate.org/commentary/united-nations-must-adapt-or-die-by-adekeye-adebajo-2025-09" target="_blank">stopped</a> sending its contributions. It also traditionally accounts for an even larger share of voluntary financing for humanitarian operations, but these funds, too, have been cut. Making matters worse, China, the UN’s second-largest contributor, is also behind on its payments.
With its financial situation growing desperate, UN Secretary-General <a href="https://www.project-syndicate.org/columnist/antonio-guterres" target="_blank">António Guterres</a> warns that staff across the organisation will need to be cut by <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2025/sep/18/united-nations-un-2026-budget-job-losses-us-funding-cuts" target="_blank">one-fifth</a>. Morale is said to be low, as is the prospect of a change for the better. With his recent address to the General Assembly, Trump made clear that he has nothing but contempt for the organisation. The only role he seems able to see for it is to help him get a Nobel Peace Prize. The Trump administration’s forthcoming review of America’s multilateral commitments is almost certain to deliver more bad news.
Does the UN have any future? While the demand for it is as great as ever, its ability to deliver has obviously been diminished. There is no way for it to survive without scaling back its ambitions and abilities; precisely how it goes about this will be a central issue over the next few years.
With Guterres’s tenure ending in 2026, the process of selecting his successor will also have to feature a debate about ensuring the UN’s long-term survival. Moving the headquarters out of the US is a natural step, owing not only to the withdrawal of US funding and the need for cost savings, but also to the US refusal to grant visas to those attending UN gatherings (as it did with the Palestinian leadership this year).
Yes, a UN that is no longer headquartered in New York would be different in many ways. But relocation also may be the only way for it to survive. Dag Hammarskjöld, the UN’s second secretary-general, famously <a href="https://ask.un.org/faq/14623" target="_blank">remarked</a> that the body was not created to deliver Heaven, but rather to spare us from Hell. That task remains as important as ever. But for things to stay the same, everything must change. © Project Syndicate
Carl Bildt is a former prime minister and foreign minister of Sweden.

To survive, the UN must leave the US

Following the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-8-september-massacre">uprising of 8-9 September</a>, the Nepal Army commenced a series of consultations concerning the transition process, during which the potential reinstatement of the monarchy was reportedly under consideration.&nbsp; However, former King Gyanendra Shah declined to pursue this option without a consensus among the political parties. This information was conveyed by Madhav Kumar Nepal, a former Prime Minister and a notable critic of the monarchy, in a newspaper article. The former king, for his part, delivered his annual Dasain message to the nation on 28 September. He emphasised, among other points, that the younger generation constitutes the foundation of the nation’s future.&nbsp; ‘Only the patriotic spirit, energy, and innovative thinking inherent in them can guide the nation toward strength, prosperity, and self-reliance. Let us reflect upon ourselves in the mirror of our country,’ he said. ‘Our political endeavours have often focused on destruction. Now, our initiatives should aim not at ruin but at improvement.’ Seventeen years <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-ghost-of-monarchy-returns-to-haunt-nepal">after Nepal abolished its monarchy</a> and became a federal secular democratic republic, the monarchy still influences the country’s political scene, mainly because of the persistent weaknesses of democratic institutions. Throughout much of its modern history, Nepal’s political landscape was controlled by the monarchy. During the partyless Panchayat system (1960-1990), the palace was consistently criticised for its authoritarian rule. However, it presented itself as the defender of national unity and sovereignty, especially against Indian influence. The 1990 People’s Movement transitioned Nepal into a constitutional monarchy. However, this period was marred by persistent instability, including the outbreak of a Maoist insurgency in 1996 and a royal palace massacre five years later.&nbsp; By 2005, when <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/tell-me-what-the-common-man-is-thinking">the new king, Gyanendra</a>, assumed full control, detaining politicians and restricting press freedoms, the monarchy’s legitimacy was already under scrutiny. The mass movement of 2006 resulted in the end of royal rule, leading to the official abolition of the 240-year-old Shah dynasty in 2008. Supporters of a republic saw this as the outcome of years of activism. In contrast, royalists viewed it as the sudden dismantling of an institution they believed had united Nepal. The new political framework aimed to promote stability, prosperity, and inclusion. However, Nepal has seen over 14 different governments in 17 years. Divided by factionalism, political parties have often focused on overthrowing rivals instead of effective governance. Widespread corruption persists. Infrastructure projects frequently face delays. Millions of young Nepalis leave the country to find jobs, resulting in the loss of many of the nation’s most talented individuals. The common belief that politicians amass wealth while ordinary citizens struggle has caused deep disillusionment. This serious situation led <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/international-spotlight-on-nepal">Nepal’s Generation Z to protest</a> in the streets. Within this broader context, for many, the monarchy has reemerged as a symbol of stability. To some, the king signifies unity that goes beyond partisan divisions. To others, the last Hindu monarch represents cultural continuity amid secular and federalist upheavals. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-deja-vu-on-black-friday">Royalist demonstrations in Kathmandu</a> have mobilised tens of thousands. However, electoral support remains limited. The leading pro-monarchy party, the Rastriya Prajatantra Party (RPP), secured merely about 6 percent of the vote in the 2022 elections.&nbsp; Major political parties remain steadfast in their commitment to republicanism, and Nepal’s younger, globally connected population broadly <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/a-new-dawn-for-democracy-in-nepal">identifies with democracy</a>, despite frustrations with its shortcomings. Remembrances of King Gyanendra’s authoritarian rule serve as strong reminders of why the monarchy was abolished. However, this memory is gradually being replaced by more recent events.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251002111020_c018307c7b7dda363d04be3d65f01d132c81c62bae7ed2aa1ea235a12719b251.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251002111020_c018307c7b7dda363d04be3d65f01d132c81c62bae7ed2aa1ea235a12719b251" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="monarchy in Nepal"> <figcaption>Photo: SAROJ BAIZU</figcaption> </figure>  PUBLIC IMPATIENCE Amid dissatisfaction with political parties, a question has emerged about whether the country needs an institution that can enforce discipline. As a result, calls for the reinstatement of the king are not just about Mr Gyanendra Shah, but also reflect a broader desire for government that is stable, accountable, and respectful. The influence of the monarchy extends into regional affairs. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/america-nepal-and-the-royal-coup-qedzifz9">During the Cold War</a>, the palace adeptly balanced relations between India and China, positioning itself as the guardian of Nepal’s sovereignty.&nbsp; It also carefully navigated pressures from the United States and the Soviet Union. Today, as Nepal faces pressures from New Delhi, Beijing and Washington, some royalists perceive the monarchy as a safeguard against external interference. The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/autopsy-of-a-blockade%20,2863">2015 blockade imposed by India</a> impacted Nepal’s economy and led the country to seek closer comprehensive relations with China. As a result, India has adopted a more cautious approach toward Nepal’s republican leadership.&nbsp; China is viewed as supportive of centralised authority, in contrast to Nepal’s democratic institutions. There are perceptions that the United States, previously supportive of the monarchy, may once again consider it a stable partner. Officially, India, China, the broader international community, and major donors continue to support <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-story-so-far">Nepal’s post-2006 political order</a>. At the same time, they observe ongoing discussions among Nepalis about the possibility of a constitutional monarchy within a democratic framework. Following the recent unrest, some Nepalis believe that restoring the monarchy could create uncertainty for India and China, given Nepal’s complex political landscape. Others suggest that worries about perceived Western influence on the interim government through international NGOs might trigger serious soul-searching in New Delhi and Beijing. Despite its limited mandate to hold elections on March 5, 2026, t<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-pm-set-to-expand-her-cabinet">he interim government</a>, led by former Chief Justice <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/madam-prime-minister-of-nepal">Sushila Karki</a>, has an opportunity to start rebuilding public trust. Although the new government continues to enjoy popularity, there is evident public impatience regarding its delays in investigating corruption and misconduct by the previous leadership, as well as the incidents of killings, looting, and arson during the protests.&nbsp; The nation has been further unsettled by whispers of an impending and potentially more significant political upheaval prior to the upcoming elections. Republicans believe that demonstrating the effectiveness of democracy is the best way to mitigate calls for a monarchy. However, if the leadership fails to address key issues such as corruption, unemployment, and institutional strengthening, it could further boost the monarchy’s influence – and potentially lead to its comeback. Sanjay Upadhya is the author oand analyst based in the Unoited States. Originally posted <a href="http://originally%20published%20at%20https//www.linkedin.com/pulse/why-monarchy-still-sways-nepals-republic-sanjay-upadhya-pe4xe" target="_blank">here.</a>

Why the monarchy still sways Nepal’s republic

On the night of 10th August 2025– technically the 11th – I got out of Kathmandu airport and rushed to Thimi, where Prajita Shrestha was performing the Nagacha Pyakhaan. Woven around the story of Hindu mythological characters, Bhasmasur and Mohini, the dance is exclusive to Thimi in Bhaktapur.&nbsp;
Prajita is only the fourth girl to dance as Mohini. In the past, male members of the community played the role. In a move away from the traditional mode where men perform female roles in religious dances, women are now being inducted in some performances.
When Prajita was first asked by the guthi to perform as Mohini, she instantly said yes, before even asking her parents’ permission. “My heart leapt with joy the moment I was asked. I knew I was meant to do this,” she says.&nbsp;
She first performed in August 2022 and was nominated again in August 2025 to perform. Social media reels of her dancing that gained wide popularity seems to have endorsed her as the crowd’s choice, even though she was actually stepping in to fulfill a sudden vacancy due to unforeseen events.
When I arrived in Thimi that night, Prajita had already been on her feet for a long while. Her face lit with mischief, she went from alley to alley, flirting and motioning at Bhasmasur, the antagonist of Nagacha Pyakhaan.
The story has it that the Hindu god Visnu, disguised as the enchantress Mohini, enamours and prompts the demon Bhasmasur to self-destruct. The old dance form, exclusive to Thimi, was revived in 2019 and women dancers were gradually introduced. Some other cities like Bhaktapur and Kirtipur have also introduced women in religious dance and music, recently.
Prajita had seen Nabina Prajapati perform as Mohini ahead of her and says it worked as an inspiration when she was asked. Her parents did not disapprove of her intent because her brother, Kiran had already been performing the Bhaila dance and they were familiar with the processes. The Bhaila, dedicated to Hindu deity Bhairav, was revived about a decade ago, and is performed by young boys in Thimi.
All religious dances in the Kathmandu Valley were traditionally done by men. Prajita is one of the few women who have stepped into unchartered territory. The 24-year-old, a student and communication worker, has also set the stage for more girls to follow in her steps.
“I know they say that Newa women do not have freedom, but we have to understand that not letting women participate in these dances was also a way of protecting them,” she says.&nbsp;
As Prajita and the troupe stepped up on the raised stone platform daboo at Thimi thoroughfares that night, men in the audience cheered: “Wala, wala!” It’s here!
Unfazed, Prajita maintained her smile and her composure, her arms flailing in the night air, her feet tapping the ground. “When one performs as Mohini, the crowd jeers and teases. It might be because in the past men disguised as women to perform and they got teased. So when our grandmothers were saying no to this, they were trying to keep us from that exposure, which they did not think was safe or appropriate.”
Newa traditional dances are said to be exclusive to male dancers for many reasons. The weight of the headgear and masks is maintained as key, the others being the endless hours of practice, night time performances and long hours of fasting, and often drinking of alcohol and even blood in some instances, required as a part of tantrik rituals. And there’s menstruation taboo, and the distance women are kept at from Nasaa dyaa, the deity of charm and grace.
As I followed Prajita around that night, I was already starting to feel the night weighing down on me. But she sprinted from tole to tole, bells jingling, a pair of ankle brace hugging her bare feet, her green skirt flaring as she pirouetted. The red velvet blouse threw a blush to her face and the peacock feather on the crown of her head fluttered as she tilted her head to look into the face of Bhasmasur, the beckoning of desire.
Being in the role of Mohini has changed many things for Prajita, who is also a radio journalist with Radio Kathmandu, 92.1.&nbsp;
“I have newfound confidence to do my work after I participated in the dance. I also do cultural activism, so doing the dance helped me gain a new perspective and also connect with new people,” she says.&nbsp;
While the joy of dancing can be for oneself, Prajita says she also thrives in the adulation she receives from the audience, many of them her relatives and neighbours.
“From the time I took on the role, my father hadn’t been very involved in what I was doing. But the night of the performance, when I saw my father in the crowd, I felt elated,” says says. Like so many little girls who thrive on validation from the elders in the family, Prajita in that moment wanted to make sure she lived up to the new social responsibility she had embraced.&nbsp;
That act of being drawn into the circle because of presence and participation is an important experience. Men in patriarchal societies are already part of that circle, while women are on the margins because of the social status they are expected to maintain.&nbsp;
But breaking the boundary to be included in the circle requires the opening up of that circle up by the male members of the community. Arjun Shrestha, Nirajan Shrestha, Birendra Shrestha, Rabi Shrestha are some of the names Prajita mentions when speaking of her dance gurus. They are men who formerly performed the Nagacha Pyakhaan and are now transferring the legacy.
“In the past, I used to be like an outsider, a spectator to the dances that were performed in Thimi. But after I participated, people in the religious dancing circles knew me and I am allowed to watch practice sessions for other dances, even stay out late with the dancers, mingle with them,” says Prajita. “I feel accepted.”
Suburban Tales is a monthly column in Nepali Times based on real people in Pratibha’s life.

Pratibha Tuladhar

Suburban Tales

Dance like a deity

Like many, my heart sank as I heard news of protesters being shot in Kathmandu. Just a week prior, I had been there discussing approaches to urban peacebuilding.
The signs of unrest were already visible: police in riot gear, rumours of growing protests, and conversations about corruption and democratic accountability.
Two years earlier, I had heard young people across Nepal raising their voices about unemployment, stale leadership, environmental challenges, LGBT rights, caste discrimination, and more. At that time, it felt hopeful as protest and dialogue are vital signs of democracy. But last month it was clear pressure was building.
What was not clear was just how close frustration and marginalisation were to a violent tipping point. In hindsight, there was space for dialogue and more constructive action on the part of political leaders to address frustration, but that opportunity was missed.
Nepal and Kathmandu now stand at a crossroads. Nearly two decades after the armed conflict, the country has made remarkable gains: a new Constitution, stronger democratic institutions, and more inclusive representation. Few post-war states have built participatory institutions as Nepal has. Yet sustaining democracy is not the same as transitioning to it.
Old challenges such as regional inequality, social marginalisation, economic precarity, and limits on free expression have not vanished. A new generation, especially GenZ, is demanding reforms. They are not rejecting democracy, they are calling for its fulfillment.
The question is not whether Nepal changes, but how and whether reforms can be rooted in sustainable, democratic institutions and more inclusive economic models.
UNDERLYING DRIVERS&nbsp;
Kathmandu will need to play a central role in addressing underlying drivers of conflict while simultaneously navigating the pressures of rapid urbanisation: gentrification, loss of public space, and widening inequality. The ability to foster meaningful participation and greater equity in the city will play a pivotal role in shaping the success of Nepal’s democracy more broadly.
There are numerous examples of cities around the world that have enjoyed successes in dealing with these deep-rooted challenges. Colombia’s <a href="https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/22472117/" target="_blank">social urbanism</a> in Medellín played a role in dramatically reducing homicide rates and social marginalization.&nbsp;
In Porto Alegre, Brazil’s pioneering <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/259125910_The_Effects_of_Participatory_Budgeting_on_Municipal_Expenditures_and_Infant_Mortality_in_Brazil" target="_blank">participatory budgeting</a> model increased democratic participation, even helping to reduce infant mortality. Each demonstrates how inclusive urban governance can reduce structural violence and strengthen democratic legitimacy.
In Nepal one critical step would be to design an urban peacebuilding plan not as a narrow conflict-resolution tool, but as a framework for participatory democracy from the ground up. Too often, peacebuilding is treated as something for post-war transitions. In fact, it is essential to democratic resilience: building trust, analysing shared problems, and continuing to develop collective vision. And it must come in large part from within.
Nepal has already proven it can do that. Building on existing infrastructure an urban peace plan for Kathmandu could accelerate social repair, develop models of solidarity economics, and strengthen participatory governance. The key for this plan’s success is to create a local, accessible, place-based peace centres which bridges democratic dialogue that young people are leading online into offline settings where citizens of all backgrounds can engage.
There is already a foundation to build on. Each of Kathmandu’s 32 wards has a mediation centre aimed at resolving disputes locally, and <a href="https://www.thewomencell.com/en/notice/oath-taking-mediators" target="_blank">women’s networks</a> have been mobilised to support and strengthen these efforts. Peace centres can be developed to help take on the deeper structural challenges facing Nepal’s youth which the current mediation centres are not equipped to address.
Peace centres could grow to include ward level local peace councils (LPC) that actively foster connections and dialogue across generational, caste, ethnic, gender, and religious lines. Peace councils in this new context could be adapted to build on lessons learned about LPCs during the post war period and to address a new context.
That could include facilitating meaningful conversations about how government resources are utilised through <a href="https://vimeo.com/107121298" target="_blank">participatory budgeting</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHeRD-rr6wk" target="_blank">legislative forum theater</a> and other well established participatory mechanisms that move from consultation to active decision-making.
Importantly, they can also serve as hubs to facilitate experiments with economic self-reliance by providing resources to help facilitate planning and investment in cooperatively owned production, mutual aid, women’s enterprises, youth social enterprises and other systematically organised community-driven development approaches. This will help reduce exclusion that fuels anger.
This plan creates an important “in between space” between party politics and social media driven activism. Democracy does not require everyone to be a politician, but it does require that everyone have meaningful ways to shape public life and spaces conducive to doing so.&nbsp;
This needs to be nurtured and Nepal already has the human capital to support community-led development, dialogue and participatory democracy. Accelerating education rooted in civic responsibility could link schools and communities, preparing a new generation of young people for leadership in democratic dialogue, and community level development planning.
At this crossroads, Kathmandu can become more than Nepal’s political capital. It can model how cities anchor peace, democracy, and justice in everyday life. The future of Nepal’s democracy depends not only on how it responds to moments of protest and uprising, but on how it builds everyday institutions that address the tensions that make political and economic frustration explode.
The key question is whether leaders and citizens alike are prepared to take this next step and have the support to do so; moving from fragile democracy to a resilient, participatory peace.
Arthur Romano, PhD, is a faculty member at George Mason University’s Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter School for Peace and Conflict Resolution, where he directs the Program on Urban Peacebuilding. His research and practice focus on urban peacebuilding, restorative justice and the design of city-wide learning systems for violence prevention.

Urban peacebuilding for democracy

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

Indonesian democracy on the brink

The protest led by digital-native generation is not a rejection of democratic norms but rather an insistence for the Constitution’s most fundamental guarantees to be taken seriously. What confronts us is not youthful defiance, but political impunity masquerading as governance.&nbsp;
The spreading narrative that our protests were about a fleeting social media ban insults our generation’s intelligence. The protest has exposed a deeper generational revolt. No longer will we pay for impunity, we are determined to confront it as a constitutional betrayal rather than an inevitability of culture.
We know what is enshrined in our Constitution. Article 17 guarantees us the right to freedom: a freedom to assemble peacefully and without arms. Yet when we exercised those rights, the state met us with bullets instead of dialogue. That betrayal forces us to ask if Nepal is capable of delivering real democratic substance, or will the upcoming generation be left to inherit yet another endless cycle of hollow symbols and the whims of the powerful?
We, GenZ, are not demanding reforms at the margin. We are asking for the future our Constitution promised. We look ahead with both clarity and urgency.
We envision a democracy true to its words, where the Constitution is honoured in practice; where digital freedom is not revoked when it unsettles entrenched power, where the judiciary upholds the law without fear or favor, and independent watchdogs strike at impunity with unflinching integrity, and where elections reflect the true will of citizens rather than the staged choreography of the elites.
We foresee a cultural transformation-connection being no longer needed for survival. We can only laugh when they label our demands as ‘utopian’, imagine living in a nation where fundamentals of democracy are themselves treated as luxuries.
What is new is our unwillingness to wait. Raised on digital democracy, well aware of the law and fluent in hashtags, we are unafraid to take our case to the streets when institutions have repeatedly failed us. The whole nation is watching the interim government closely, and so are we -- the generation determined to make a system which works for all, not just for the privileged few.
Sambriddhi Aryal, 21, is a fourth-year student at Kathmandu School of Law with a keen eye on constitutional law, civic rights, and the pulse of global change.

GenZ constitutional awakening

Visitors are often mesmerised by the beauty, tranquillity and old-world charm of Dhankuta in eastern Nepal. Now, this hill town is being turned into a dream destination for nature lovers, culture enthusiasts, and slow travel seekers.&nbsp; Community groups here have undertaken an innovative model of responsible tourism coupled with sustainable development that could prove to be the solution for other mountain communities in the region too. Responsible tourism is the one that benefits local people, protects the environment, and preserves local heritage. For the people of Dhankuta, it is not just a buzzword, but a lifeline. Here, their integrated approach to tourism is designed to improve livelihoods, preserve cultures, and address outmigration and the very specific challenge of water security. Across the hills and mountains of the Hindu Kush Himalaya, communities largely rely on spring water for drinking, household use, and minor irrigation. This water is fed by ‘watersheds’ – areas of land that drain water into a specific waterbody. The Nibuwa-Tankhuwa is Dhankuta’s watershed, where a fourth of the 97 springs have already dried up due to climate change, posing a clear threat to the community’s water security. To tackle this head on, the Dhankuta community began a grassroots movement here in 2021, which paired responsible tourism with vital water conservation efforts. This included building recharge ponds, reviving springs, and implementing rainwater harvesting systems in the watershed.&nbsp; Importantly, these projects have provided a foundation for the entire tourism model – tourists can witness this work firsthand, seeing and learning to understand how every drop of water is carefully managed. A further challenge is Dhankuta’s complex geography, with the settlements of the indigenous Aathpahariya community scattered across hilltops and valleys. For those living on higher ground, recharge ponds alone aren’t enough. To address this, rainwater harvesting systems and bio-sand filtration units were introduced, making safe water accessible to families and visitors even in previously underserved areas. Historically, the Aathpahariyas have depended on agriculture, but water scarcity led to significant outmigration, despite a long-held cultural and spiritual belief that crossing the Tamor River symbolises severing ties with their land. For them, responsible tourism has offered a way to earn a living without leaving the area.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250927150936_77e15e16a293e2d228bc7e5a7af74f95c87c24b9fb670f59f722be4416b73a62.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250927150936_77e15e16a293e2d228bc7e5a7af74f95c87c24b9fb670f59f722be4416b73a62" data-rendition-name="original" width="1126" height="751" loading="lazy" alt="The Aathpahariya community welcoming guests."> <figcaption>The Aathpahariya community welcoming guests. </figcaption> </figure>  Young leaders like Sabita Shrestha and Nabin Aathpahariya are now at the forefront of this movement. Sabita is Dhankuta’s first female cultural guide, and Nabin, a tour guide, is a champion of his culture and the local ecosystem, proving that you can both honour tradition and adapt to a changing world. This provides a unique opportunity for the indigenous Aathpahariya community, allowing them to remain rooted in their sacred homeland and continue their traditions, while engaging in meaningful economic activities that respect and uphold their cultural values.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250927150936_89d3e3fb2f9d4e1564b393e493d06d6c8825a90e0c39fc839e6da38813b5c774.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250927150936_89d3e3fb2f9d4e1564b393e493d06d6c8825a90e0c39fc839e6da38813b5c774" data-rendition-name="original" width="1051" height="793" loading="lazy" alt="Dhankuta tourism"> <figcaption>Nabin Aathpahariya (centre) and community members in their traditional attire at Khambela, an Aathpahariya settlement on a hilltop.</figcaption> </figure>  Dhankuta isn’t trying to attract a multitude of visitors. The vision is to invite intentional travellers who favour immersive, low-impact, high-value experiences. While Nepal’s tourism sector is growing, much of it comes at a cost to the environment. Dhankuta offers an environmental breakthrough, a path that strengthens local culture and makes perfect business sense for the community.&nbsp; This is particularly relevant now, as Nepal's tourism sector faces a fresh challenge. A recent wave of protests led by GenZ against government corruption and mismanagement has disrupted the peak tourist season. The unrest caused international travel advisories to be issued and led to a sharp drop in tourist arrivals, with some industry estimates pointing to losses of over Rs25 billion.&nbsp; In response to the setback, the Nepal Tourism Board has launched a new campaign, including reviving hashtags like #NowInNepal, to reassure the world that the country is safe and ready to welcome visitors. But while the national tourism strategy focuses on broad recovery, initiatives like Dhankuta's provide a model of what a truly resilient tourism economy can look like. It is not just about bouncing back from a crisis, it is about building a system that can weather them. Dhankuta is not waiting for solutions to come from outside. It is actively building them from within. Dhankuta’s tourism is a powerful example of what is possible when a community takes collective ownership of its future. The question now is not just how many people will visit, but how many others will be inspired to build their own dreams from the ground up. Anu Kumari Lama is a tourism expert at ICIMOD while Vuyasi Rajbhandari is Communications Associate.

Building a dream in Dhankuta

On 8 September, Nepal witnessed one of the darkest chapters in its democratic journey. What began as a peaceful demonstration by GenZ students against corruption ended in tragedy.
Young people, many still in their school uniforms, came forward with banners and voices, not weapons. They believed that wearing their uniforms would protect them, a symbol of innocence and safety. Instead, they were met with tear gas, bullets, and chaos.
I was there. I marched with two of my closest friends. I heard chants rise, I saw hope spread. And then, in one moment, everything changed. The air filled with sirens and smoke, our voices drowned in chaos. I was pulled back before it was too late, but others were not so lucky.
That night, my Instagram feed was filled with trembling hands, bloodied uniforms, and lifeless eyes. They were children like me, who trusted the very state that turned its guns on them.
And as if that was not enough, opportunists took advantage. While we bled, criminals escaped from prisons. At the same time, political actors attempted to hijack the movement for their own interests, undermining the authentic voices of the young generation. These betrayals deepened the sense of injustice and disillusionment among Nepal’s youth.
Despite the grief, one truth remains: this generation refuses to be silenced. From the ashes of 8 September must emerge a stronger, more accountable Nepal.
To honour those who lost their lives and to safeguard the nation’s future, the following are essential:
• Justice for the martyrs. Not only official recognition but also lifelong support to their families, including education, healthcare, and economic assistance.
• Independent Truth and Justice Commission. An impartial body with international oversight to investigate the events and ensure transparent, public trials.
• Accountability for violence. Immediate suspension, investigation, and prosecution of officers and commanders who authorised or used violence against students.
•Vetting of political leaders. A commission to ensure that no past leader returns to power without thorough investigation and clearance from corruption or abuse of power. Every new minister and officer must also meet strict academic and professional standards, pass full background checks, and have no criminal record.
• Re-arrest of escaped criminals. Publication of wanted lists and formation of task forces with strict deadlines to restore law and order.
• National healing and trauma care. Counseling and support programs for survivors, families, and students who experienced trauma.
• Memorialisation: Construction of a Youth Martyrs’ Memorial in Kathmandu and designate 8 September as Youth Courage Day.
• Police and security reform. Ban on live ammunition in peaceful protests, mandatory body cameras, and human rights training for law enforcement.
• Youth participation in governance. Establishment of a permanent Youth Advisory Council under the government to ensure young voices shape national policy.
• Accountability of the interim government: monthly progress updates and a 100-day roadmap with clear deadlines for reforms and justice.
• Curriculum inclusion. Incorporation of 8 September protest into school textbooks to educate future generations the cost of freedom.
• Exoneration of GenZ protesters. Officially clear GenZ of any responsibility for property damage, recognising that any destruction was caused by opportunists, while our actions remained peaceful and focused on justice.
These demands are not radical, they are the foundation of a dignified society. In the short term, citizens expect justice for victims, re-arrest of escaped criminals, and concrete accountability from the interim government. In the long term, we look toward systemic reforms: a political culture rooted in merit, transparency, and integrity, and a nation where youth are active participants in governance.
The GenZ protest was more than a demonstration, it was a test of Nepal’s democracy. The state’s failure to protect its children has left a wound that cannot heal without truth and justice. If we act decisively, we can transform grief into reform, betrayal into accountability, and tragedy into hope.The blood of our generation must be the foundation upon which a just, transparent, and inclusive Nepal is built.
Niharika Sah is a final-year engineering student from Lalitpur with a deep love for literature and poetry.&nbsp;

The Nepal our friends died for

As dusk fell over Kathmandu, the thunderstorm continued unabated. It had been raining continuously for 18 hours, and the forecast said it would keep raining at least till 8am on Sunday. The Bagmati roared through Chobhar Gorge in awesome rapids – the only drainage outlet for the entire Kathmandu Valley. By evening, 120mm of rain had fallen in 18 hours, more than the average for the whole of October.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251004161016_99ad9098124bec91da71ac42bbe889981fe64dda2dd3012b8bb289cf78ba4c54.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251004161016_99ad9098124bec91da71ac42bbe889981fe64dda2dd3012b8bb289cf78ba4c54" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Kathmandu floods 2025"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251004161016_59b97f3a3b2af91d3876b298963b3e68395c8b388aba6d9972c9bde1f668608d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251004161016_59b97f3a3b2af91d3876b298963b3e68395c8b388aba6d9972c9bde1f668608d" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Kathmandu floods 2025"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251004161016_1715f4d6ff1ee87302b697d3c95df36486bea71ed279852ef606c8f5dc68439b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251004161016_1715f4d6ff1ee87302b697d3c95df36486bea71ed279852ef606c8f5dc68439b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Kathmandu floods 2025"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251004161016_ecd3dec69270afbd5a5c71dfa71780b6f8982984a95f3fbb83f23ee594451224.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251004161016_ecd3dec69270afbd5a5c71dfa71780b6f8982984a95f3fbb83f23ee594451224" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Kathmandu floods 2025"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251004161016_53e47ae222c9f4397bcdad6d8021a711a5671fd45373fb3df2ed5c6413d58359.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251004161016_53e47ae222c9f4397bcdad6d8021a711a5671fd45373fb3df2ed5c6413d58359" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Kathmandu floods 2025"> </figure>  Settlements along the banks of Bagmati and Vishnumati in Kathmandu have been evacuated and affected families will be temporarily sheltered in schools across the capital.&nbsp; Bagmati Province has set up a Unified Command Team for disaster management while the Home Ministry has instructed CDO and security personnel to be on duty 24/7.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251004171048_7e5d10f8e0042190e54e6db6cddbd51ed9d6d9dbc0cdb087d7af3207c9eaa2d0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251004171048_7e5d10f8e0042190e54e6db6cddbd51ed9d6d9dbc0cdb087d7af3207c9eaa2d0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="888" loading="lazy" alt="heavy rain in Kathmandu"> <figcaption>Friday's satellite precipitation forecast for Sunday morning at 0600 showing heavy rainfall along the Chure Hills and Madhes Province south of Kathmandu. </figcaption> </figure>  The torrential rain has obstructed several highways as well as caused infrastructure damage, but no human casualties have been reported so far. Many had feared a repeat of the deadly flashfloods on 28 September 2024 in which 200 people were killed and half of Nepal's hydropower generation capacity siped out. The government has declared 5 and 6 October as a public holiday to prevent people from travelling during the Dasain festival, and to reduce risk. All highways in and out of Kathmandu closed till Monday. Flood-prone river corridor roads in Kathmandu have been closed after 6PM on Saturday. Meanwhile, all domestic flights were suspended from Kathmandu and other airports from 2PM Saturday, and most inbound international flights were diverted from 3PM onwards. Rerouted flights started arriving in kathmandu late Saturday as the core of the storm system moved east.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251004151056_bad029b05dbfda622986270a798edc6efcc2791ff34f53b9d1283554ac72c39a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251004151056_bad029b05dbfda622986270a798edc6efcc2791ff34f53b9d1283554ac72c39a" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="heavy rainfall in Kathmandu 2025"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251004151052_9e740929c7ef0899b0f397195695b873bba45b089bb1e11cf37dbe125d0cd60d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20251004151052_9e740929c7ef0899b0f397195695b873bba45b089bb1e11cf37dbe125d0cd60d" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1363" loading="lazy" alt="heavy rain in Kathmandu 2025"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251004151056_2b75c2ea57df76dae1c470f0e460720b7d258868258789729e491ab93cb41ebd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20251004151056_2b75c2ea57df76dae1c470f0e460720b7d258868258789729e491ab93cb41ebd" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="heavy rainfall in Kathmandu 2025"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251004151056_6c045ac30e50710bcf3ca7b6ca4ac9c45e8d8881ed39f522779c860b0d3f15c3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20251004151056_6c045ac30e50710bcf3ca7b6ca4ac9c45e8d8881ed39f522779c860b0d3f15c3" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="heavy rainfall in Kathmandu 2025"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251004151052_9ef160b8403764495b86159661cc9a11d9d7d3b848686a631e5ec8cff0c4c38f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20251004151052_9ef160b8403764495b86159661cc9a11d9d7d3b848686a631e5ec8cff0c4c38f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="heavy rain in Kathmandu 2025"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251004151052_e5825bcc6666e5235d9db2d4854a19cd6536335ebaf4cd65413acc601ceee3b5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20251004151052_e5825bcc6666e5235d9db2d4854a19cd6536335ebaf4cd65413acc601ceee3b5" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="heavy rain in Kathmandu 2025"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251004151056_097077400e96f571f4418cd7b57c082045d86dd9035c31c5acd7ede2bfc54349.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20251004151056_097077400e96f571f4418cd7b57c082045d86dd9035c31c5acd7ede2bfc54349" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="heavy rainfall in Kathmandu 2025"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251004151056_30a4da8f384f6fe1a862e775124ae08ccf51c1db60e71e7e2d683e0f25f33546.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20251004151056_30a4da8f384f6fe1a862e775124ae08ccf51c1db60e71e7e2d683e0f25f33546" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="heavy rainfall in Kathmandu 2025"> </figure>  Madhes, Bagmati and Kosi provinces are the worst hit with Maheshpur in Rautahat district recording 270mm of rain as of 3PM on Saturday. Similarly, Gaur received 243.6mm, Kalaiya in Bara 200.6mm and Birganj 221.4mm. The Department of Meteorology did not blame climate change, but said the unusually heavy precipitation at a time when the monsoon is supposed to have ended was caused by the head-on collision between moisture-laden westerlies with the retreating monsoon.

More dark clouds over Nepal

Kathmandu: A Reader, the latest publication from Martin Chautari, is an anthology of anthropological essays exploring Kathmandu through various lenses across the 21st century. This compilation is edited by Benjamin Linder and attempts to bring modern discourses on Kathmandu and its urbanity together, in a single volume. The book is divided into three sections: the physical form of the city, the imprints it bears from past political upheavals, and the complexity in the lives of its people. The book examines these diverse aspects, leaving readers who have just witnessed the momentous events of September with anxiety, and perhaps a greater understanding of Kathmandu’s context. Urban planning expert Biresh Shah’s discourse on the Valley’s urban sprawl and its landmarks is insightful, but also prophetic when he warns about seismic risk.&nbsp; Jan Brunson’s chapter on female mobility in Kathmandu via scooters is more optimistic, suggesting small-scale, daily-life movements in Kathmandu transform the city for its various demographics — in this case young women.&nbsp; Linder himself contributes with a discourse on the toponymy of Thamel, close-reading Kathmandu’s tourist hub through the usage and understanding of its name over the ages. MYTHBUSTERS The book is a collage of pieces held together by a thread that runs through the chapters of a vibrant, bustling image of the Valley. One common theme is Linder’s attempt to expand on common understandings and urban myths about Kathmandu. Readers who have spent time in the city will relate to the many anecdotes. for example, Niels Gutschow bringing up the lack of open spaces, or Mark Liechty mentioning restaurants in Kathmandu being melting pots of cultures and castes.&nbsp; The essays here further extend these urban legends by giving historical and anthropological contexts. In-migration and the rise in land prices have led to shrinking open spaces, the creation of cosmopolitan food outlets, and even hubs for sex workers. The Bagmati cleanliness campaign extends to a past understanding of the Bagmati Civilisation. Urban myths become puzzles to be solved by connecting the various threads of discussion across the book. The sections in Kathmandu: A Reader are all by experts in their various fields and present a holistic, well-rounded picture. Yet, it is obvious there is still more ground to cover, more themes to explore — perhaps by more Nepali scholars.&nbsp; In his introduction, Linder admits that due to practical reasons, ‘many wonderful works were left on the cutting room floor’. That is a pity. Indeed, there could have been more discourse on the changing ethnic composition of Kathmandu. A close-read into the lives of people termed as ‘outsiders’ but forming a growing slice of the population would be important to also chart future trends. &nbsp; The religious importance of Kathmandu as a unique civilisational alloy forged by melding the Hindu and Buddhist faiths can be explored more too. One can imagine a future edition including an examination of the post-Covid era Kathmandu valley.&nbsp; This need to broaden the ethnographic literature on Kathmandu becomes more apparent because 11 out of the 15 essays here are written by non-Nepali scholars, including the entire section focusing on urban cultural politics. Linder explains in his introduction that this was largely due to the community of academics in Nepali urban studies being fairly small. Kathmandu: A Reader then becomes even more integral as a gateway for new authors looking to work in the space of urban research on the Valley — undergraduates in the humanities for future theses and research ideas.&nbsp; In a time when Kathmandu is littered with new exam coaching centres for medical and engineering students, an anthology like this helps remind young scholars that there is plenty of scope for qualitative research in the social sciences. Sabin Ninglekhu’s discourse on the sukumbasi and aesthetics in Kathmandu are reminders that stories and academic journeys can be inspired from one’s surroundings. Kathmandu: A Reader has a good balance between academic and lighter readings, and is almost encyclopaedic in nature. There is even content about Kathmandu’s gangsters and scooty girls — allowing readers to venture deeper into their milieu.&nbsp; Kshitiz Pratap Shah is a recent graduate in English from Ashoka University.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251002051016_c8ce28ecfd0dde4986023822b3d40360ead97d29b7f186f6494d8da67021c5a5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251002051016_c8ce28ecfd0dde4986023822b3d40360ead97d29b7f186f6494d8da67021c5a5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Kathmanu a reader"> </figure>

A reader for Kathmandu

One is an archipelago, the other is landlocked. But the Philippines and Nepal have a lot in common: both are disaster-prone, their economies dependent on overseas migrant workers, both went though Maoist insurrections that failed to replace a feudal order dominated by political dynasties. And both countries suffer from rampant corruption. Twelve days after <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-new-normal" target="_blank">deadly protests toppled Nepal’s government</a> tens of thousands of Filipinos, many of them youth, also poured out into the streets demanding transparency and better government. Cars were set on fire, and more than 200 people were arrested, nearly half of them minors. The ‘Trillion Peso March Against Corruption’ was fuelled by <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/09/21/world/asia/manila-philippines-rally-protest.html" target="_blank">anger over embezzlement</a> by politicians and their <a href="https://pcij.org/2025/08/31/5-reveals-from-the-flood-control-data/" target="_blank">crony contractors</a> estimated to top $17 billion in flood control infrastructure that were either never completed, or non-existent.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025100411108_85daed60ed5599f53235312e5b33703244bbac8640dbaf5161f90e5abe83f7eb.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025100411108_85daed60ed5599f53235312e5b33703244bbac8640dbaf5161f90e5abe83f7eb" data-rendition-name="original" width="2326" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="Phillipines anti-corruption protests"> </figure>  “We learnt from Nepal and <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/09/30/world/anime-protests-flag-moldova-nepal-indonesia-gaza.html" target="_blank">Indonesia</a> how to deploy social media as a tool to spread information, we are digital natives and well connected within the country and across borders,” said <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/yuri-lemana-68322b183/?originalSubdomain=ph" target="_blank">Yuri Lemana</a> of the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/FOIYouthPH/" target="_blank">Youth Alliance for Freedom of Information</a>, and a part of the GenZ protests.&nbsp; “The system has failed us, unemployment is on the rise, there are shrinking opportunities for youth, and we face environmental threats. There is a realisation that our future is at stake,” Lemana added. Online groups started highlighting bribery and kickbacks in July after President Ferdinand (Bongbong) Marcos Jr himself brought up corruption in the infrastructure budget in his annual address to the nation, and launched a probe.&nbsp; The protests gained traction after powerful visuals of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/international-spotlight-on-nepal" target="_blank">rallies in Indonesia and Nepal</a> circulated on digital platforms. Filipino journalists also exposed the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-f0MFz3vmfE" target="_blank">high-flying lifestyle of contractors</a> involved in siphoning off the infrastructure budget.&nbsp; As in Nepal, the youth protests were joined in by various radical groups. In Manila they reportedly included supporters of ex-president Rodrigo Duterte who is currently on trial at the <a href="https://www.icc-cpi.int/philippines/duterte" target="_blank">International Criminal Court (ICC)</a> in the Hague for extrajudicial killings during his ‘war on drugs’ 2011-2019. Duterte still has a lot of support, especially in the Filipino diaspora, for being tough on crime. Duterte was allied with Marcos in the 2022 elections, and his daughter Sara Duterte is currently vice-president. But the two families had a massive falling out, and the Supreme Court annulled the Lower House’s attempt to impeach the vice-president. This week in Manila, a remarkably well-informed Grab driver replayed TikTok videos of Kathmandu’s burning Parliament building to a passenger from Nepal. After his garment factory was driven out of business by cheap Chinese imports, he started driving a ride-hailing cab and was livid with successive governments not providing opportunities to ordinary people like him. Traffic was gridlocked because of flooded streets, and the driver vented out his anger: “Look at this. The streets are always flooded because of corruption. We should have done here what you did in Nepal.” Even before the protests, Senate President Francis Escudero and House Speaker Martin Romualdez had both resigned over the 'Floodgate Scandal'. Romualdez is Marcos’ cousin and is now said to be in Madrid, where his every movement is being tracked by Filipino diaspora in social media posts. The Independent Commission for Infrastructure has issued subpoenas to probe corruption in flood control projects. As in Nepal and Indonesia, much of the anger was over the offspring of politicians extravagantly flaunting their ill-gotten wealth on Instagram and TikTok. In the Philippines, the outrage is also over political clans passing on electoral seats to offspring. The 21 September protests were centred around Rizal Park and the EDSA Intersection in Manila — both symbolic for previous people’s movements against the Spanish colonialists and the 1986 uprising against the dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos (father of the present president). “People here had seen what happened in Nepal, and were asking why we weren’t as angry as people there? Why not show our anger, too?” said one reporter who covered the protests. But, he added: “Let’s not be naive. It may have started with youth anger, but there were also people who were paid to infiltrate and instigate. We were also wary that things should not get out of hand like in Nepal.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025100411104_2c02ece56d29b2d8222433572d75c2dcc9bc2f3425d277a0056f393b521eecd0.png" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="2025100411104_2c02ece56d29b2d8222433572d75c2dcc9bc2f3425d277a0056f393b521eecd0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1550" height="996" loading="lazy" alt="Phillipines youth protests"> <figcaption>An Instagram post of the protests in Manila with a comment relating it to the Nepal unrest two weeks earlier.</figcaption> </figure>  Seventy percent of Filipinos are Millennials and GenZ of voting age, and they were impatient with a rigged electoral system. In a clear parallel to what happened in Kathmandu two weeks earlier, radical groups, political rivals, and the general public furious with the system all joined in the protests. Catholic priests, people from all generations and professions had participated in the EDSA Uprising against Marcos in 1986. This time, it was the youth who took the lead. Joseph Francisco Ortega of the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/nationalyouthcommission/" target="_blank">Philippine National Youth Commission</a> said he understands the frustration among the youth that fuelled the unrest. The discontent is also because despite there being young legislators, they are either party-affiliated or scions of political dynasties. “If we can convince young politicians to do the right thing, then we have won half the battle,” Ortega said. “If we want to rebuild quickly and for the long term, we have to change the system from within. There is a constructive way to do this, while exercising the right to non-violent protest.” CROSS-POLLINATION The <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6w8monPKdrc" target="_blank">violence in Manila streets</a> on 21 September was nowhere near the scale of what happened in Kathmandu on 8-9 September, but both transcended GenZ to be an outlet for pan-generational rage much like 1986 in the Philippines.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251004111012_e9cf9abfa8e35f3c074506dfdf94a262b5b311da6863cc2ec7bc3458a983df71.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20251004111012_e9cf9abfa8e35f3c074506dfdf94a262b5b311da6863cc2ec7bc3458a983df71" data-rendition-name="original" width="6566" height="4377" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal GenZ protests"> <figcaption>Angry crowd torched Parliament building among others during the 8-9 September GenZ protests in Nepal. Photo: AMIT MACHAMASI</figcaption> </figure>  “With due respect to the youth, it is not about age but about technology,” explained journalist Malou Mangahas of the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/R2KRN/" target="_blank">Right To Know, Right Now Coalition</a> who participated in the 1986 uprising against Marcos. “We were all young and angry once. We are older, but still angry, and demanding good governance, transparency and accountability.” Just like in Nepal, young Filipinos rallying against corruption were also wary of infiltration, and it was clear from the anti-Marcos graffiti who the instigators of violence were. The GenZ were mainly wearing white while the pro-Duterte crowd <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6w8monPKdrc" target="_blank">are seen in videos</a> in black.&nbsp; The minors seem to have just joined in the melee from their street-side settlements. Rights groups have called for their release, accusing police of rough interrogation and ‘red-tagging’ as Communist provocateurs. Much of the transboundary cross-pollination of anti-government protests across Asia last month used gaming characters, memes, and anime personas like the manga cartoon One Piece flag depicting a grinning skull in a straw hat which became an icon of youth protests.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025100411100_2d09f075663678fe92d4e4dcc631ee6ad1aa8a99996f4c4a3649e4bf4d85132f.png" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="2025100411100_2d09f075663678fe92d4e4dcc631ee6ad1aa8a99996f4c4a3649e4bf4d85132f" data-rendition-name="original" width="810" height="1208" loading="lazy" alt="One Piece"> <figcaption>The One Piece Flag flying during protests in Manila on 21 September. Photo:  CYBERNETICBOYLOL / WIKIPEDIA</figcaption> </figure>  Yuri Lemana adapted a saying of gaming character <a href="https://www.warhammer.com/en-WW/shop/mechanicum-archmagos-prime-2024?srsltid=AfmBOorpYg8Zk5G5WiPUS9SXTampX969gMw79sP7ZzkE1G6H5pICR4PW" target="_blank">Archmagos Cortiko</a> in <a href="https://start-warhammer.com/" target="_blank">Warhammer 40,000</a>: “Prayer has its power, but fury also has its uses. If the government tries to hide things from us, we will find a way. Fury will find a way.” Kunda Dixit is the Publisher of Nepali Times, and was a foreign correspondent based in Manila in the early 1990s.