In the wake of violent protests that rocked Nepal this week, grieving families gathered in Kathmandu on September 11, 2025, seeking answers and justice for loved ones killed by police during a turbulent two-day uprising. The city, still reeling from the aftermath, has become the epicenter of both mourning and an unprecedented experiment in digital democracy, as the nation struggles to find its footing after the sudden collapse of its government.
The Health Ministry reported a grim toll: 34 people killed and 1,368 wounded in protests that erupted on September 8 and 9. What began as outrage over a short-lived government ban on social media platforms—including Facebook, X, and YouTube—quickly spiraled into a broader movement fueled by anger over corruption, unemployment, and deepening wealth inequality. According to the Associated Press, the social media ban was intended to enforce registration and oversight, but it backfired spectacularly, becoming the spark that ignited a powder keg of public frustration.
As the protests intensified, police opened fire on demonstrators, and the violence escalated. Kathmandu’s iconic landmarks—the parliament building, the presidential residence, the central secretariat, and the prime minister’s official residence—were set ablaze by furious crowds. Even the headquarters of Kantipur, Nepal’s largest media outlet, was torched, and car showrooms across the city bore the scars of the unrest, with burned-out vehicles lining the streets. The chaos forced Prime Minister Khadga Prasad Oli to resign and flee, leaving the nation’s leadership in disarray. The ceremonial president, Ram Chandra Poudel, asked Oli to lead a transitional government, but with the prime minister’s whereabouts unknown, the question of who was truly in charge hung heavily in the air.
Amid the turmoil, hundreds of people crowded Kathmandu’s main airport, desperate to leave the country as confusion and fear gripped the capital. “It was a very difficult time for us. We had trouble just to get to the airport and back to the hotel hoping for flights, but finally I have found a seat and am going to be flying out of Nepal,” said Raj Kumar Bika, a chicken farmer trying to reach New Delhi for business, as reported by the Associated Press. Many, like Asmita Poudel, waiting to board a flight to Dubai, voiced a sense of hopelessness: “We are compelled to go abroad because there is no future for people like us in Nepal. If there were opportunities, we would all stay back in the country.”
Those who remained faced a city under military control. The army, rarely mobilized in Nepal’s recent history, took charge of Kathmandu on the night of September 9. Armed soldiers patrolled the streets, checking vehicles and offering assistance where needed. A curfew was imposed, briefly lifted only to allow residents to scramble for food staples—rice, vegetables, meat—before being reinstated. The last day of the beloved Indra Jatra festival was also curtailed, with the traditional chariot procession of the living goddess canceled and only a few hundred devotees allowed into the old palace courtyards. The living goddess herself remained inside her palace temple, a poignant symbol of the disruption gripping the nation.
In the midst of this uncertainty, families of the deceased gathered outside a hospital morgue, holding a candlelight vigil and demanding accountability. “We need to fight for justice for our family who were killed and we cannot stay silent any longer,” said Kamal Subedi, whose nephew was among the dead. “We have lost our loved ones but politics seem to take priority right and no one has even approached us, so now we are going to fight for justice for the honor they deserve.” The families, as reported by the Associated Press, were not interested in monetary compensation; they wanted state honors for the victims and, above all, recognition of their loss.
Bhol Bahadur Bishwokarma, searching for news about his brother Santosh, who was killed by police fire, voiced the anguish of many: “We have heard that the body is in the hospital morgue here but no one has confirmed that or in what condition and shape the body is in. We have not even been able to see the body. We demand the government address our concern at the earliest.”
With the government in tatters and the military in charge, the search for a new leader took an unexpected turn—online. In a remarkable twist, the very social media platforms that triggered the crisis became the forum for charting Nepal’s political future. As reported by The New York Times, more than 100,000 Nepalis flocked to a Discord chat room, organized by the civic group Hami Nepal, to debate and nominate potential interim leaders. “The Parliament of Nepal right now is Discord,” said Sid Ghimiri, a 23-year-old content creator from Kathmandu, capturing the surreal shift from street protests to digital deliberation. The conversation, conducted through voice, video, and text, became so influential that it spilled onto national television and was live-streamed by news outlets.
Many of the Discord participants were the same Gen-Z activists who had led the protests in Kathmandu. After the military imposed a curfew and restricted large gatherings, the digital channel became the de facto national convention. The army’s chiefs, recognizing the power of this new forum, met with the channel’s organizers and asked them to propose a nominee for interim leader. Protest leaders responded by suggesting Sushila Karki, a popular former chief justice of Nepal’s Supreme Court and the only woman to have ever held the position. However, the proposal was met with mixed reactions among protesters, highlighting the complexities of forging consensus in a fractured nation.
The military’s role extended beyond politics to restoring order in the streets. On September 10, soldiers quelled a dramatic jailbreak in central Kathmandu, where inmates had overpowered guards, set fire to buildings, and attempted to escape. Troops fired into the air, apprehended the fleeing prisoners, and transferred them to other jails—thankfully, no injuries were reported.
For many in Kathmandu, the overriding desire is for peace and stability after days of chaos. Sanu Bohara, a local shop owner, summed up the mood: “I feel there should be an election soonest and new leaders who are able to work for the country should be elected. After all this, what we need is peace. I feel there should not have been so much destruction, but that has already happened.” Yet the path forward remains uncertain, with Nepalis torn between the hope of a new beginning and the trauma of recent events.
As the nation waits for clarity, the world watches a country at a crossroads—grappling with the legacy of violence, the power of digital activism, and the enduring quest for justice and democratic renewal.