Two weeks after the Gen Z protests rocked Nepal’s political scene, a single blood-stained white shoe continues to capture the nation’s imagination. The shoe, once just a humble pair of Samba-brand trainers, has become an enduring icon of youth resistance—a symbol of hope, sacrifice, and the dreams of an entire generation. But behind this viral image lies the story of 28-year-old Prakash Bohara, whose journey from a small town in Dailekh to the frontlines of protest in Kathmandu reveals the deeper struggles and aspirations of Nepal’s youth.
On September 8, 2025, Prakash joined thousands of other young Nepalis who marched toward the Parliament building in New Baneshwar, Kathmandu. Their demands were clear: good governance, jobs, and an end to the corruption that has plagued their country for decades. As tear gas drifted through the air, Prakash pressed forward with his friends, determined to make his voice heard. He recalled, “I was pulling at the iron bars [of the building] when a bullet struck my left leg,” his words barely above a whisper as he lay in the ICU at the National Trauma Centre, Kathmandu.
The chaos of the moment was captured on video by his brother-in-law. In the footage, Prakash’s white shoe is visible amid the confusion and panic. Blood poured from his wound, staining the shoe a vivid red. In the scramble to get him to safety, someone removed the shoe—his left one, now soaked with blood. That shoe, lost in the turmoil, would soon become a viral sensation on social media, shared and reshared as a symbol of the Gen Z movement’s courage and cost.
But the story of Prakash’s white shoe stretches far beyond the protest. After completing his Health Assistant degree in 2016, Prakash found himself, like many young Nepalis, unable to secure steady work. His family’s small shop and farm could barely keep them afloat, and debts from rebuilding their earthquake-shattered home mounted. With few options left, Prakash made a desperate choice: he enlisted in the Russian army, joining dozens of other Nepali youths who risked their lives in the war in Ukraine in hopes of earning enough to support their families. Not all returned. By sheer luck, Prakash did.
With his soldier’s pay, he bought a motorbike and, on May 8, 2025, a pair of discounted white Samba-brand trainers in Nepalgunj for Rs1,500. He sent a photo of the shoes to his wife, Radika, over WhatsApp. She loved them and urged him to buy them. Those shoes, rarely worn but dearly cherished, would soon be immortalized in the nation’s collective memory.
When news of Prakash’s injury reached his family, the shock was overwhelming. His wife, Radika, and their 16-month-old son had expected him home for the Dashain festival. Instead, they learned of his involvement in the protest from neighbors who saw his name among the injured. Prakash’s mother, devastated, said through tears at the hospital, “He had promised to be home for Dashain. Instead, we got this news.”
Doctors say Prakash’s recovery will be long and difficult. The bullet tore through his thigh, damaging veins and nerves. More surgeries await. Yet, despite the pain and uncertainty, Prakash remains hopeful. “If the blood I spilled can bring about good governance and end corruption, then it will not have been wasted,” he said, his words resonating with countless young Nepalis who share his frustrations and aspirations.
Prakash’s story is just one thread in the larger tapestry of the Gen Z movement that has swept Nepal in recent weeks. According to The Kathmandu Post, the protests were marked not only by physical confrontation but also by a new, distinctly digital language of dissent. Young people turned to humor, memes, viral videos, reels, and even emojis to voice their anger at corruption and political stagnation. Critics dismissed these methods as “unserious,” but for many in Generation Z, they represented a powerful and creative form of resistance.
Frustration over unemployment and diminishing hopes for migration opportunities fueled the protests. In a country where many young people see little future at home and dream of opportunities abroad, the sense of disillusionment runs deep. The Gen Z movement, with its colorful, viral protest actions, reflects broader dissatisfaction with Nepal’s political conditions and the economic challenges faced by its youth.
Social media played a pivotal role in amplifying the movement. Images of the blood-soaked shoe, videos of protesters braving tear gas, and satirical memes targeting politicians spread rapidly across platforms, uniting young people from diverse backgrounds in a shared cause. The digital language of the protests—playful yet pointed—helped bridge divides and bring attention to issues that had long simmered beneath the surface.
Yet, for all its humor and creativity, the movement was born out of real hardship. Many protesters, like Prakash, have faced years of economic struggle and political disappointment. The promise of migration—once a lifeline for many Nepali families—has faded as opportunities abroad have dwindled and stories of hardship and exploitation have multiplied. At home, jobs remain scarce, and corruption continues to undermine trust in institutions.
Despite the skepticism of older generations and political elites, Nepal’s Gen Z protesters have shown that their methods—however unconventional—can be effective. The viral power of a single image, like Prakash’s blood-stained shoe, can galvanize public opinion and force those in power to take notice. As one protester put it in a widely shared video, “We may use memes and humor, but our pain is real. Our demands are serious.”
The Gen Z movement has also sparked debate about the future of protest in Nepal. Some worry that digital activism may lack staying power or fail to bring about meaningful change. Others argue that the combination of online and offline action—marching in the streets while flooding social media with viral content—represents a new and potent force in Nepali politics. As one observer noted in The Kathmandu Post, “This is not just a passing trend. It’s a generational shift in how young people engage with politics and demand accountability.”
For Prakash Bohara, the white blood-stained shoe is more than just a piece of clothing. It is the emblem of a struggle shared by countless young Nepalis—a fight for dignity, for jobs, and for a country that does not force its youth to seek survival in foreign wars. From a dusty shop in Nepalgunj to the viral feeds of a nation, one simple shoe now carries the weight of an entire generation’s dreams.
As Nepal’s Gen Z continues to find new ways to make their voices heard, the story of Prakash and his shoe serves as a powerful reminder: sometimes, the smallest symbols can bear the greatest burdens of hope and change.