Submit your Article

Since the formation of the Sushila Karki–led government following  Sept 8–9 protests, there has been minimal engagement between Kathmandu and Beijing. In the aftermath of the GenZ protests, Chinese Ambassador to Nepal Chen Song met Prime Minister Sushila Karki and other government ministers to convey Beijing’s concerns, but there have been no high-level visits between Kathmandu and Beijing. 

Typically, October, November and December see a high number of visits as part of preparations for the coming year. This time, however, not only have the visits from China declined, but overall Chinese activities have also slowed. A China watcher noted, “Beijing may be in a wait-and-see position as the political developments unfold in Nepal.”

Similarly, Beijing’s viewpoint may be that since the current government cannot take major policy decisions, it is better to wait for the new government to be formed after the elections. According to people familiar with the matter, Beijing has conveyed two messages to Nepal following the GenZ protests. First, what happened on Sept 8–9 and the political course that followed is Nepal’s internal affair. Second, China has strongly raised its security concerns due to the open involvement of some Tibetan groups in those protests.

Over the past decade, China’s political, economic and security influence in Nepal has grown, increasing Beijing’s confidence that any government in power will refrain from jeopardizing its security interests related to Tibetan activities. However, the events of September have renewed Beijing’s worries.

Thus, after the GenZ movement, Beijing is experiencing both confidence and insecurity regarding its security interests. China is now closely monitoring the activities of the Tibetan community as well as broader political developments, including cabinet formation. Beijing believes that there can be no substantial progress on the Belt and Road Initiative under the current government. For this reason, China has adopted a policy of maintaining only a working relationship with the new government, with a special emphasis on security concerns. During this period, several Chinese delegations visited Nepal to study the Genz movement and assess potential challenges to bilateral relations. 

Bangladesh wasn’t a destination most people expected me to visit. When I told friends and colleagues about my plan, many asked, “Why go to Bangladesh for tourism?” Even the visa officer at the Bangladesh Embassy in Kathmandu, the immigration officer in Dhaka, and several locals repeated the same question with surprised smiles. But I had a simple answer: Nepal has mountains, rivers and hills—but no sea. I went for the beaches.

Dhaka was my first stop, and the city hit me with its pace. Compared to Nepal, the Bangladeshi capital has undergone rapid infrastructure expansion—wide roads, long flyovers, fast tracks and a functioning metro system carve through the city. But alongside this impressive development comes the other reality: almost no discipline in traffic. Vehicles rush from every direction, rules appear optional, and crossing the street feels like a test of courage.

Bangladesh, with an area of roughly 148,000 sq km, is only slightly larger than Nepal’s 147,516 sq km, but its population—over 170m—overshadows Nepal’s nearly 30m. It is a country overflowing with people. The crowds are constant, and everywhere feels busy.

After Dhaka, my main destination was Cox’s Bazar—the world’s longest natural sandy beach. This was the part of the journey I was truly looking forward to. The sea breeze, the endless shoreline and the rhythmic sound of the waves were exactly what I had hoped for. I explored both commercial beaches filled with local visitors and quieter, more untouched stretches of sand. It was fun, refreshing and unlike anything Nepal can offer.

What surprised me, though, was the absence of foreign tourists. The beaches were lively, but almost entirely with domestic travelers. Despite that, people were warm, curious and welcoming everywhere we went.

According to the Bangladesh Tourism Board (BTB), Bangladesh received around 655,000 foreign tourists in 2024. But the local media reports that many of the foreign arrivals recorded by BTB are not leisure tourists but include business travellers and non-resident Bangladeshis (NRBs).

Back in Dhaka, I visited the area around Dhaka University. The walls were painted with murals—powerful images connected to past protests and political movements. Yet the atmosphere was peaceful, with students walking, chatting and enjoying the campus surroundings.

My week in Bangladesh was a mix of contrasts: infrastructure growth and traffic chaos, overwhelming crowds and serene beaches, political expressions on walls and calm in the streets. It was unexpected, eye-opening and memorable—a reminder that sometimes the best trips are the ones others question.

Some people still ask whether the GenZ movement existed solely to place Sushila Karki in KP Sharma Oli’s chair, dissolve the House of Representatives two years ahead of schedule and push the country into yet another election costing billions. It did not—and it certainly should not have. Yet the “Oli-like” tendencies now emerging in Prime Minister Karki, the evolving political landscape and the likely faces poised to win if elections proceed on March 5, have together created a climate of growing doubt. As a result, what began as a transformative moment risks being remembered as a political detour.

Unfinished revolution

In the aftermath of the GenZ uprising, Nepal’s political sphere has entered a period of rapid churn—splits, mergers and reconfigurations have become weekly rituals. Dozens of new parties have emerged, led by individuals seeking to capture the energy generated on the streets. Older parties, meanwhile, continue to recycle their leadership and structures in an attempt to remain relevant. The once-entrenched dominance of the big three—the Nepali Congress, CPN-UML and the CPN (Maoist Center)—has weakened to an extent, and non-establishment voices within major parties now enjoy more space to speak.

However, these shifts—loud, visible and dramatic—fall significantly short of what the moment demanded. The sacrifices made by GenZ protesters called for substantive political transformation: a rethinking of governance, the dismantling of patronage networks, and above all, a generational transition in leadership that Nepal has delayed for far too long. Instead, the agenda of the movement has been diluted. Old political habits, long discredited, have resurfaced in new packaging.

The GenZ movement itself has fractured, as mass protest movements often do, but it remains undeniably a force. The current government exists because young people took to the streets. It is also true that even if ministers belong to older generations, they cannot simply dismiss the movement’s aspirations. Public support for its core concerns—integrity, transparency, accountability, generational inclusion—remains robust, despite early signs that partisan loyalties are slowly reverting to traditional alignments.

Accusations of foreign involvement continue to circulate, as they do in every major political upheaval in Nepal, but none has yielded anything of substance. Those who marched know they were not deployed by external actors. Their grievance was domestic, immediate and undeniable: a political system that had become immune to public outrage and unresponsive to genuine reform.

A crisis of legitimacy

With political authority drifting away from parties and toward ad hoc arrangements, the country urgently needs an election to restore legitimacy. Yet preparations by both old and new forces appear woefully inadequate. Established parties fear a public rebuke; they sense that voters may not forgive their role in years of stagnation. New political forces, despite their enthusiasm, remain fragmented and uncertain of their electoral prospects. Many lack the organizational depth needed to contest nationwide elections effectively.

The interim government, meanwhile, has adopted a posture of comfort. If elections occur on time, it benefits from appearing cooperative; if delays arise, its tenure simply stretches on. This ambiguity has eroded public trust. The youth who risked their lives for political renewal now watch a government drifting without urgency.

Amid this uncertainty, efforts to use GenZ factions as political instruments have become increasingly visible. Some youth leaders, disillusioned with the government’s performance, now argue that the Karki administration has failed to uphold the spirit of the movement. They have even floated former Chief Justice Kalyan Shrestha as a potential alternative prime minister—an idea that reveals both dissatisfaction and desperation.

Where Karki has fallen short

There is some truth to their criticism. Karki’s government has not lived up to the transformative mandate it inherited. But this reflects not only her leadership; it reflects the unchanged landscape around her. The constitution remains the same. Senior officials, courts, the bureaucracy and long-established political networks remain largely untouched. The interim government is composed of loyalists with limited experience, each carrying their own political weaknesses and personal constituencies.

Brokers—old and new—have already penetrated the government’s inner circles. Even within GenZ itself, personal rivalries and factional disputes are beginning to surface. In such an environment, prolonged interim politics risks turning the state into a venue for narrow interest-seeking. National interest is often the first casualty. Nepal now stands uncomfortably close to that precipice.

Karki’s elevation to the premiership was itself an experiment. She was appointed despite two constitutional constraints—she was not a member of the House, nor was she eligible for the executive role as a former chief justice. Her defenders justified her selection on grounds of maturity, legal expertise and her public reputation as a principled opponent of corruption and political patronage. These were compelling arguments at the time.

But her conduct in office has weakened the aura of moral authority she once enjoyed. Her unrestrained public remarks—claiming she accepted the post under pressure, or that she refuses to meet senior political leaders—have undermined the dignity of the position she holds. The office of the prime minister demands gravitas, restraint and an ability to navigate political complexities quietly and effectively. Instead, her comments have amplified doubts about her political temperament.

More serious, however, are her appointments. Attorney General Sabita Bhandari and Chief Personal Secretary Adarsha Kumar Shrestha, both controversial figures, have become liabilities for the government. Bhandari’s appointment contradicts the anti-nepotism sentiment that defined the GenZ movement. Shrestha, a temporary court clerk, was elevated without a clear merit-based justification. Both have since been linked to allegations of misconduct, including involvement in an illegal ova-trafficking case and the appointment of relatives to government positions.

Yet the government has taken little meaningful action. In one case, its response appeared to shield the accused while sidelining qualified GenZ activists who had expected at least some acknowledgement of their contribution. Such decisions cannot be reconciled with the ethos of the movement that brought this government to power. Instead, they echo the same arrogance of authority that GenZ rose against. Karki’s defense of her appointees mirrors, in troubling ways, the very tendencies associated with Oli.

The risk of betrayal

This raises a difficult and painful question: Did the GenZ movement simply replace one leader with another, without altering the system that produced them?

It did not—and it must not be allowed to. But if the current trajectory continues, the perception that the uprising achieved little beyond a change of faces will deepen. That would be a profound injustice to the martyrs of the movement. It would reduce their sacrifices to a historical footnote and burden their families with needless grief and unanswered questions.

The coming weeks offer a narrow but meaningful window for course correction.

What Karki must do—now

1.  Avoid replicating the authoritarian tendencies of her predecessors.

2. Exercise restraint and dignity in her public remarks.

3. Ensure that constitutional reasoning—not personal networks—guides all decisions.

4. Pursue accountability in cases linked to her controversial appointees; and

5. Ensure that the March 5 elections are held on time, without ambiguity or political bargaining.

Nepal cannot afford another wasted moment. The GenZ uprising was not merely a wave of youthful anger; it was a profound demand for dignity, accountability and a new political culture. Whether that call becomes a turning point—or fades into disillusionment—now rests largely with the prime minister.

The country waits. The youth watch closely. History will decide whether the promise of a generation was fulfilled—or betrayed.

The author is a senior Nepali journalist based in Washington, DC

A large number of temporary migrant workers from India are entering Jhapa with their families to work in chimney brick industries, but local authorities lack verified data on their arrival. The absence of reliable records has raised concerns that Bangladeshi and Rohingya nationals could also enter Nepal through the same channels.

The Armed Police Force (APF) has increased surveillance along border points in the district, citing the possibility of Bangladeshi and Rohingya citizens illegally crossing into Nepal from West Bengal. However, security officials say the lack of proper documentation and identity checks for Indian workers entering through Bhadrapur and Kakarbhitta has created operational challenges. Many workers reportedly arrive by reserved buses and proceed directly to brick kilns without undergoing verification.

APF SP Tul Bahadur Bhandari, chief of Battalion Headquarters-2 in Jhapa, said the authorities have begun collecting details of Indian migrant workers and their families employed in brick factories.

A recent district security meeting also discussed the possibility that brick kilns could be the first destination for individuals entering illegally. SP Bhandari said coordination is underway with the Jhapa Brick Industries Association to address this risk.

According to officials, Bangladeshi and Rohingya individuals in India often possess Indian Aadhaar, PAN, or voter ID cards, making identification more difficult. “Those working in brick factories may also hold Indian documents, but without accurate data on how many workers have arrived, verification becomes challenging,” SP Bhandari said.

Nepal Police is also assisting in the data collection process.

Jhapa Brick Industries Association secretary Bishnu Prasad Ghimire said 24 chimney brick industries are currently operating in the district. Most workers come from Cooch Behar and Mathabhanga areas of West Bengal, he said, adding that his factory maintains updated identity records of Indian workers, though he was unsure about practices at other factories. Each kiln employs between 50 and 200 workers, and the total number increases when children accompanying families are counted. Most of these workers, who are Bengali-speaking and predominantly Muslim, arrive between mid-November and late March.

Indian authorities have recently launched a Special Intensive Revision (SIR) of voter lists in West Bengal and 12 other states. Following the start of the SIR, many Bangladeshi and Rohingya nationals who had been living secretly in West Bengal—some with illegally obtained Aadhaar, PAN, or voter ID cards—have reportedly begun leaving India out of fear of being unable to present valid documents during verification.