On September 8, 2025, Kathmandu bled. What began as a peaceful Gen-Z protest against the government’s shutdown of 24 social media and messaging platforms—Facebook, YouTube, X, WhatsApp, Instagram, LinkedIn, and others—ended in gunfire. Police opened fire on unarmed demonstrators. Casualty figures remain contested: state TV admits one death and fifty injuries, local media reports fourteen dead and over forty-two injured, while Reuters says the toll is murky. Whatever the number, the tragedy is undeniable. A government too insecure to face its youth reached for bullets instead of dialogue. The crackdown followed Prime Minister K. P. Sharma Oli’s decree that all platforms must register under Nepalese law within seven days or face a ban, which looks in fact, of it justified. But a blanket shutdown in a nation where 90% of citizens rely on the internet for business, education, family connections, and free expression is what looks suspicious. Rights groups call it what it is—an assault on freedom. Yet instead of addressing this naked authoritarianism, a circus of disinformation has taken centre stage. Nepal’s rulers and their apologists mutter about Washington’s “deep state,” Pakistan’s ISI, Chinese ambitions, and even India’s “Indira Gandhi-era meddling.” None of it stands scrutiny. There is no credible evidence linking foreign intelligence to these protests. What is clear is that the movement is student-led, organic, and spread across Kathmandu, Pokhara, Itahari, and Nepalgunj. Comparisons with Bangladesh, where student protests forced a prime minister to flee, are misplaced. Oli is still in Kathmandu, clinging to power. Blaming outsiders is convenient but certainly not without suspicion. It strips Nepalis of agency. The students who marched were not anyone’s puppets—they were citizens demanding their right to connect, speak, and breathe freely in the digital age. Young politicians, sensing the pulse of the streets, have already lent support. The deeper malaise is political. Since the abolition of the Hindu monarchy in 2008, Nepal has seen 13 or 14 governments in just 17 years. The promised democratic dividend never arrived. Instead came corruption, paralysis, and economic stagnation. For a restless young population, Oli’s ban on social media was the final straw.
It is in this context that concerns raised by retired Indian army officers must be read. Their warning—that New Delhi must “act before others take the lead”—is not entirely baseless. Nepal’s instability, under a regime increasingly viewed as anti-Hindu, could tilt the fragile balance of a country where Hindus form a majority but find their identity diluted in the Communist-driven order. Oli’s tilt away from Hindu traditions is not lost on ordinary Nepalis who still cherish their civilizational heritage. The fear is not only about democracy’s collapse but also about cultural alienation. For India, which shares deep civilizational, religious, and people-to-people bonds with Nepal, this is more than a neighbourhood crisis. Still, foreign intervention is no panacea. It will not restore trust or solve youth anger. If anything, it risks worsening the chaos. History shows that when governments choke freedoms—whether through gag laws, arbitrary bans, or brute force—they ignite more rebellion. Suppression breeds revolt; bullets cannot silence aspirations. The real challenge is domestic. Nepal’s leaders must recognize that democracy is not preserved by censorship or coercion but by dialogue and reform. Digital freedom is today’s lifeline. Cutting it severs not just apps but livelihoods, businesses, and families. The world, especially India, must hold Oli’s government accountable—not only for the deaths on September 8, whether one or fourteen—but also for systematically alienating its Hindu majority while crushing democratic voices. Nepal’s tragedy is not a foreign conspiracy. It is the outcome of fear, misrule, and ideological arrogance. If Nepal is to avoid sliding into permanent instability, its leaders must stop blaming phantoms, start listening to their youth, and respect the cultural roots of their people. Freedom, once crushed, does not die quietly—it rises with greater fury. Kathmandu’s blood-stained streets are proof enough.
