Nepal has long been known as a peaceful nation, embraced by majestic mountains and breathtaking landscapes. But behind this postcard beauty, reality has taken a dark and painful turn. Corruption has hollowed out the very heart of our country. The money that should serve the people, the tax money collected from ordinary citizens has been stolen and misused. Most of that money doesn’t even come easily; it comes from remittance, from the sweat and blood of our youths who work like slaves in the Gulf, enduring hardship so their families can survive.
On Monday, September 8, the young people of Nepal the Gen Z could no longer stay silent. Students, children, and youth walked out into the streets. They marched not only against the rot of corruption but also against the cruel social media ban, a lawless act that strangled their right to free speech, safeguarded both by Nepal’s Constitution and by international human rights law. This was not just a protest it was a cry of survival, a stand against a system that has suffocated the people for far too long.
And what ignited their fury further? The shameless display of the privileged few: the corrupt leaders’ children, parading luxury brands Gucci, Louis Vuitton, and other symbols of excess. While ordinary families begged for medicine, struggled to survive, and died in poverty, these “nepo kids” flaunted wealth stolen from the very citizens who fund the state. How long could the youth remain silent in the face of such obscene injustice?
The protest began peacefully. The police stood by, the crowd moved toward Baneshwor from Maitighar, voices rising but calm. But then—like a shadow over hope things escalated. Reports say outsiders slipped into the march, tensions grew, and authorities responded with brutality. Tear gas choked the air. Water cannons blasted unarmed crowds. Warning shots pierced the sky.
And then came the horror that tore the nation’s heart apart. The police turned their guns on children. On students. Bullets rained down, not rubber as ordered, but live, merciless ammunition aimed at heads and chests. Young lives, brimming with dreams, collapsed onto the asphalt. By nightfall, the death toll reached 20 mostly children and students executed for daring to demand a future. The Chief District Officer may have spoken of rubber bullets, but the truth is undeniable: live rounds were fired into the bodies of Nepal’s own youth.
It was a massacre. A catastrophe written in blood. And instead of seeking justice, the government responded with curfews. First a lockdown from 1:30 pm to 10:30 pm, and by the next morning, an indefinite curfew blanketed Kathmandu.
The brutality did not stop on the streets. It crept into the very place where life should be sacred inside hospitals. Civil Hospital in Baneshwor, a sanctuary for the wounded, became a battlefield. The emergency ward overflowed with bodies, blood, and cries. Doctors and nurses fought with bare hands, without enough blood, medicines, or staff. They worked through tears, performing CPR again and again, refusing to give up even as lives slipped away.
And then, as if to extinguish that last flicker of hope, police invaded the hospital itself. Bullets were fired near the emergency ward. Tear gas suffocated the dying. Patients gasped. Children whimpered. Doctors choked while trying to save them. A civil hospital, meant to heal, had almost been turned into a slaughterhouse by those sworn to protect.
The government, incapable of controlling the voices of its people, deployed the army. But there was no “unrest” to control only the bodies of children, students, and civilians who had dared to dream of a just Nepal. What began as a peaceful protest had now become mass shootings, mass slaughters, and orchestrated massacres by the government and police of Nepal.
The violence spread like wildfire across the nation. In Pokhara, Butwal, Chitwan, and Ithari, streets that had echoed with chants for justice were silenced by gunfire. Reports confirm deaths even in smaller towns. Videos and photos flooded social media, showing police barging into homes without warrants, terrorizing families, hunting protesters, dragging youth away, beating, and killing. These were not acts of law enforcement they were acts of state-sponsored terror.
In a grotesque display of hypocrisy, the government lifted the social media ban that morning. As if removing the ban could erase the carnage. As if clicking a switch could wash away the rivers of blood. But at what cost? Children’s lives. Families broken. Hospitals violated. Trust obliterated.
This was never just about social media. It was about corruption so deep it rots the bones of the country. It was about voices of young people silenced with live ammunition. It was about families mourning instead of dreaming. It was about the soul of Nepal crying out in agony. No wonder millions of Gen Z Nepalese are fleeing. They see no future here, only a country that devours its own youth.
That day, Nepal witnessed a tragedy so cruel, so unforgivable, that words alone cannot contain its weight. What unfolded was not a protest it was a massacre. Children and students, many in school uniforms, their IDs pinned to their chests, were executed as if their lives meant nothing.
This was a blatant violation of international human rights law. The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) was shredded before our eyes. Article 6: the right to life. Article 21: the right to peaceful assembly. Both desecrated. Both ignored.
The UN Basic Principles on the Use of Force state clearly: lethal force must be a last resort, only when strictly unavoidable to protect life. That day, it was used not to protect, but to kill. Children in uniforms, students clutching books hours before their final breaths, were targeted. Headshots, chest shots extrajudicial killings, executed by the state.
International law is clear: the Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC) guarantees children the right to life, survival, and development (Article 6), and protection from cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment (Article 37). Targeted killings, especially of children, are indisputable evidence of intent to kill, not protect.
Even hospitals, sacred spaces, were violated. CRC Article 24 guarantees children the highest attainable standard of health. Even the Geneva Conventions though designed for war protect hospitals from attack. Yet tear gas and bullets invaded Civil Hospital, where the vulnerable, including children, struggled to survive.
An entire nation wept. Citizens begged for mercy, their pleas broadcast live on TikTok. And yet the killing did not stop. Blood flooded the streets. Children fell lifeless. Dreams were extinguished. Courage met with bullets. Innocence met with execution.
What happened yesterday is not policing. It was massacre. Mass shooting. Slaughter. It is a crime against humanity, a war crime in spirit if not in law, and a violation of every moral and legal principle meant to protect life.
And yet, even in this darkness, we honor those who stood up. Those brave children and youth who dared to fight corruption even as weapons were pointed at their chests they are martyrs. They deserve respect, dignity, and remembrance. Their courage is eternal, and their sacrifice will one day seed the Nepal they dreamed of.
Nepal, once known for peace, now stands stained by the blood of its own children. A nation with the Himalayas as its crown now wears a crown of shame.
Jyoti's Blog 