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“I just wanted to become a mechanic,” said Uma Shankar Rayabhar, a 24-year-old man from Bara district. Instead, he spent nearly a year in jail for a crime he didn’t understand—and likely didn’t commit. Rayabhar was detained for 11 months after being falsely implicated in a massive tax fraud. Unable to afford Rs 7.5m bail set by the Patan High Court, he sat in prison while the real masterminds disappeared. Only after legal activists and the Supreme Court intervened did he secure his freedom—on a drastically reduced bail of Rs 25,000.

In a justice system built on the principle of “innocent until proven guilty,” stories like Rayabhar’s should not exist—yet they do, and in alarming numbers. His story is not an exception but a mirror reflecting Nepal’s deeper crisis: pretrial detention that punishes poverty, not guilt. Nepal’s pretrial detention regime has quietly become one of the most underrated human rights crises of our time. It’s time to ask: Is our justice system choosing jail when bail would suffice?

Nepal’s prisons are bursting not with convicted criminals but with pre-trial detainees. Over 50 percent of inmates in Nepal’s prison system are in pretrial detention—awaiting trial, without a conviction, presumed innocent by law but treated otherwise in practice.

Pretrial detention refers to the practice of holding individuals in custody before their trial, often due to the inability to secure bail. Nepal faces this issue because of inadequate legal representation, excessive cases and socio-economic disparities. In a country like ours, pretrial detention has become a tool of punishment even before any proof, especially for backward, poor and marginalized groups. 

Despite Nepal’s constitutional guarantees and various international obligations, this issue has been rising. Many of these detainees suffer for years without any formal charges, adequate legal aid and in some cases without a court hearing. While pretrial detention was intended as a temporary measure to ensure the appearance of accused individuals at trial, the practice has become a significant human rights concern, disproportionately affecting marginalized communities and undermining the principles of justice. 

What the law says?

Pretrial detention in Nepal is primarily regulated under a combination of constitutional guarantees, criminal procedural laws, and judicial discretion. Article 16 and 17 (Right to live with dignity and Right to freedom) of Constitution of Nepal (2015) has mentioned that ‘every person has right to live with dignity and personal freedom. No one shall be deprived of liberty except in accordance with the law. Also, Article 20 (Rights relating to justice) has mentioned about ‘presumption of innocence until proven guilty’, right to fair trial, right to consult a legal practitioner and right to legal aid. The Criminal Procedure Code, 2074 governs arrest, investigation, bail, and trial proceedings. Section 67 (To hold the accused in detention) states ‘A court can order the release of the accused on bail, guarantee, or personal recognizance, also the law gives judges broad discretion in setting bail conditions based on gravity of the offence, possibility of the accused fleeing or tampering with evidence and the economic status of the accused. 

Also, Section 68 (Conditions for Pretrial Detention) states, ‘If the court finds the accused likely to abscond, commit another offense, or destroy evidence, it can order detention. And Judges may also deny bail in offenses punishable by more than 3 years. The Criminal Code, 2074 has mentioned that ‘serious charges like murder, rape, organized crime, tax fraud usually lead to denial of bail. Legal Aid Act, 2054, provides for free legal counsel to indigent defendants.

While various laws regulate Pretrial detention in Nepal, the execution is poor. It’s still limited only in the letters of law.  

Detained without trial—When time becomes the sentence

In Nepal, laws often collapse in practice. The practice of holding individuals in custody for extended periods without charging them with a crime or giving them a trial makes it miserable to the people. Thousands of individuals—many of them poor, illiterate, or from indigenous or marginalized communities are held behind bars for months or even years without a single day in court. For these detainees, the very act of being arrested can result in long-term imprisonment before any formal conviction, turning time itself into an unofficial sentence. This is often done to neglect formal legal proceedings.  

According to the social or economic background of the accused, the legal system of Nepal is determined. There can be delays, discretionary decisions just based on individual status. The time spent detained itself becomes the punishment, violating fundamental rights to due process and a fair trial. The consequences are severe: people lose jobs, families are disrupted, mental health collapse, and reputations are destroyed—all before a judge has decided. In this system, time becomes the sentence, and the mere accusation, rather than evidence, is enough to lock someone away.

What needs to change?

Nepal’s jails are operating at nearly 200 percent more than its capacity. Inmates lack proper food, hygiene, or medical care—violating basic human dignity. If Nepal can increase the use of bail, especially for non-violent offenses, and simplify the bail process, there’s a high chance of maintaining the prison system and fulfilling basic rights of prisoners. Moreover, there is lack of adequate legal representation for defendants which makes pretrial detention more complex. The judicial body should provide free and effective legal representation to the needy ones regardless of their socio-economic background. Legal aid programs could be expanded to ensure that all individuals who are facing charges know or understand about their rights, to have free legal aids. This would help ensure effective advocacy for their rights. 

On the other hand, public awareness is crucial for addressing stigma surrounding pretrial detention and bail. Different campaigns and programs should be conducted to advocate about rights of defendants, to foster a more compassionate society. This shift in public perception could lead to greater support for reforms aimed at reducing pretrial detention and promoting justice. Furthermore, we should explore different alternative measures to incarceration. Measures like electronic or digital monitoring or regular check-ins should be in cooperation. These measures would help both individuals and the governmental bodies to reduce the burden on the prison system.

The demand for reform is clear as Nepal continues to negotiate the complexity of its legal system: it is time to reconsider pretrial detention and give justice for all top priority.

Muskan Karmacharya

BA LLB 4th Year

Kathmandu School of Law

Getting rid of the final remnants of a decadent political culture was unquestionably and unequivocally the greatest accomplishment of the GenZ movement (2025) in Nepal—at par with the abolishment of Rana rule in 1951, Panchayat in 1990, and the monarchy in 2006. Though triggered by a social media ban, the movement espoused anti-corruption as its primary agenda. This protest of GenZ youth (born 1997-2012) has irreversibly cemented the fate of three prominent Baby Boom Generation (born 1946-1964) leaders of Nepal, namely KP Sharma Oli, Sher Bahadur Deuba, and Puspa Kamal Dahal. Regrettably, GenZ’s historic uprising, being not a monolith, has been unmistakably hijacked by what appear to be mobs divorced completely from the national interest.

From protest to chaos

The dissatisfied, frustrated, and agitated GenZ generation movement unfolded peacefully in Kathmandu on Sept 8. The mood shifted as some protestors breached the restricted area close to parliament, climbing over the wall. Tension escalated, and clashes erupted following the protesters’ attempt to forcefully enter the parliament building and set fire to the gate. Against the mass antigovernment protests, the security forces responded with indiscriminate force, leaving 19 people dead by Sept 9.

The movement came to fruition with the resignation of Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli by Tuesday afternoon. However, the feeling of triumph over his downfall was short-lived, as the protest descended into complete wreckage—unbridled anarchism. What started as a non-violent protest, “rooted in the principles of peaceful civic engagement,” against corruption soon spiraled into vandalism, violence, and arson attacks on government offices and buildings by the end of September 9. A wide array of private properties, including media outlets, supermarkets, banks, hotels, and whatnot, witnessed collateral damage. 

On three GenZ protesters’ accounts, the tens of thousands of followers on social media were warned of acting violently, irrespective of the death of 19 protesters on the first day. In a meeting with the Army chief, Ashok Raj Sigdel, on Tuesday evening, the GenZ protesters denied involvement in the pervasive arson attacks in the capital city. The protestors were left crestfallen and shocked by the scale of destruction. To them, the movement was hijacked by opportunists and co-opted by infiltrators. In fact, the hijackers took over, controlled, and steered the leaderless and disorganized movement into a direction of their interest—from instigation of violence on the first day to the widespread rampage on the second day.

The sight of smoke belching out of the burnt-out buildings, particularly Singh Durbar (Nepal’s central headquarters), the Supreme Court, and the House of Parliament in Kathmandu, left everyone utterly perplexed, appalled, and petrified. Who hijacked the GenZ protest and torched down the three government complexes or buildings of national significance—and why? Considering the analysis of social media posts, statements, and political commentaries—discourses on corruption—in the past 5 years, the destruction does not appear to be merely a result of youth’s impulse or performative rage.

From discourses to destruction

Pro-monarchy forces have struggled in their sporadic attempts to mobilize a huge mass against the system, despite their ardent efforts in the last 18/19 years. As luck would have it, Sept 8 afforded these elements an unorganized mass to exploit. The pro-monarchy protest that was miscarried in March 2025 with Durga Prasai’s arrest, opportunistically piggybacking on the GenZ movement, has reached its desired climax.

The House of Parliament (people’s representatives) reminds the pro-monarchy supporters of their old wounds and scars from the lost battle in 2006. It appears that their long-standing resentment and agitation finally found an outlet, expressed in Parliament House’s destruction. The renewed attacks (first attempt in March 2025) against its old nemesis—Nepal’s biggest media group, Kantipur, and Nepal’s largest supermarket retail chain, Bhatbhateni—suggest an extension of this wrath rooted in that unhealed wound. A narrative that Kantipur media shaped public opinion in favor of the republic and against the monarchy around 2006 has been pushed in recent years. The symbolic nature of the attacks implies the radical pro-monarchy forces have finally settled their scores with all these entities. 

Pull out the interviews or public speech videos by Durga Prasai, including far-right pro-monarchy opinion makers, published in the last five years. This new recruit in the pro-monarchy camp endlessly rattled, crafting a discourse formed through a progression of debatable assertions (Nepal Police are thieves, industrialists destroyed Nepal), incendiary rhetoric (bury the leaders, hang them on Damak tower), self-serving exaggerated claims (political leaders’ 10 Kharba money abroad), and ultimately, deliberate disinformation. Discourse targeting the symbols of “corruption”—major political parties or leaders, major media houses (Kantipur, Annapurna and Nagarik are blackmailers), and wealthy businessmen (Marwaris and Chaudhary Group) in Nepal. 

Enmeshed and implicated in the cooperative fraud or corruption case, Rabi Lamichhane’s (chairman of Rastriya Swotantra Party, RSP, and former home minister) multiple trials and subsequent guilty verdict likely have paved a path for a discourse of a failed judiciary system. Lamichhane’s endless trials served as a tipping point, particularly for his staunch followers. Social media analysis of Lamichhane’s supporters reveals a prevalent discourse of a ‘captured and corrupted justice system (the Supreme Court being the highest).’ Even though Lamichhane’s integrity has been questioned in Nepal’s cyberspace, the leaders close to three major political parties are equally perceived as corrupt. 

Furthermore, in this discourse the judicial system is framed as the puppet of three corrupted political parties. This discourse revolves around a delayed justice system, a party-dependent judiciary, unfair trials, biased and intransparent courts being selective, and political appointment of judges. A narrative that the parties or government ganged up to conspire against the public’s rising star (“innocent leader” victim of political revenge), like Lamichhane, and hounded him out with legal instruments. 

In the context of his wife being stopped by a traffic police officer, the mayor of Kathmandu Metropolitan City (KMC), Balendra Shah, vented his anger on his official Facebook page. "It is okay for today, but if any vehicle of the KMC is stopped by traffic police in the future, I will set Singha Durbar ablaze. Mind it, thief government!” Did that statement in 2023, if not shaped, spark or seed a discourse implying a ‘corrupted Singha Durbar’ deserves to be burnt down? After all, his post was well-received (viral) by his thousands of well-wishers, a green signal to his aspiration, and a symbolic abetment by the public to act. A few months before his Facebook post, already in April 2023, over the garbage collection dispute, the mayor asked the government to move Singhadurbar to another city. 

The rising public faces (Prasai, Lamichhane, and Shah, to name a few) and their supporters, particularly in the last five years, played a catalytic role in the discursive formation of corruption. To be sure, social media apps such as TikTok, Facebook, and Instagram fueled the amplification and circulation of the discourse against state instruments. While spontaneous anger might explain some vandalism, the destruction of the Parliament House, Singha Durbar, and Supreme Court could be interpreted as a reflection of the discourses. Discourses shape and control the actions. Although reality is complex and it is tempting to assign blame on a single actor or faction, the infiltration of opportunistic groups targeting previously untouchable institutions aligns too closely with the popular discourses to be easily dismissed as mere coincidence.

End of history

The GenZ movement deserved to be remembered as a youth-led successful anti-corruption movement—not a tragic example of winning at enormous cost. Thus, it is a clarion call to the mainstream organic GenZ movement to reclaim their narrative of ‘hijacked,’ officially announcing its non-involvement or non-association with the hijackers’ abysmal destructive actions that were not in favor of national interest. Ignoring the smear campaign against the movement, the international community should extend moral and financial support in the upcoming days to rebuild Nepal. If Francis Fukuyama marked 1990 as the end of history with the victory of liberal democracy, perhaps 2025 could be seen as Nepal’s own ‘end of history’—the end of decadent politics and the dawn of youth-driven governance.

Distraction doesn’t always come with noise. It doesn’t always pull you into  chaos. Sometimes, it comes gently through something beautiful, something  new, something that simply feels different. You may not even realize its  presence at first, but over time, it begins to erode your focus, disconnect you  from your roots, and lead you down a path where you slowly forget what you  once worked so hard to build. Distraction can kill you from the inside not  instantly, but gradually, and often quietly. 

Imagine a flower, deeply rooted in the soil. She has grown there, watered with  care, nurtured with love, strengthened by the patience of time and the hope of  sunlight. Slowly, she begins to bloom a result of all the effort, waiting, and  quiet resilience. But one day, as she stands tall in her garden, a gentle breeze  passes by. It brings with it the scent of freedom, the idea of movement, and a  taste of something the flower has never felt before. She sees butterflies float  by with such grace. She sees the sky not just above her, but as a dream she  longs to touch. She begins to wish to fly, to leave the stillness of the soil, to  wander in the wind. And so, she prays for the wind to take her, to carry her to  joy and freedom. 

When the wind finally comes, she is ready. Excited. Without thinking of where it  might lead, or what she might be leaving behind, she lets go—of her stem, her  leaves, her roots. She lets herself be carried by the breeze. And for a while, it is  beautiful. The feeling of lightness, of flowing freely without any weight, without  any responsibility. She feels seen by the wind, loved by its touch. She even whispers gratitude, saying, “You made me feel free. You reminded me what it’s  like to be alive.” The wind, in that moment, becomes everything she thought  she was missing.  

But in chasing that moment, in leaving behind her grounded life, she forgets  something important: the time it took to grow. The care it took to survive. The  foundation that made her bloom in the first place. The flower does not realize  that while the wind can carry her for a while, it cannot hold her forever. The  roots she abandoned were what made her strong , what gave her life. The  distraction ,sweet, freeing, seductive, pulled her away from herself, and by the  time she sees the truth, it may be too late. 

This is how distraction works in our lives too. It arrives in the form of things we  think we need: people, experiences, or moments that offer quick joy or a  temporary escape from our reality. But in following that fleeting feeling, we may  detach from what grounds us. We may leave behind values, discipline, peace,  or even love all in search of something more exciting. And while there is  nothing wrong with change or curiosity, it becomes dangerous when we  abandon ourselves in the process.

Distraction doesn’t always look like destruction. Sometimes, it looks like  freedom. And that’s why it’s powerful. But we must remember: not everything  that feels good will help us grow. And not every breeze that touches us is  meant to carry us away. 

Supriya Paudel  

BBM VI Semester  

United College

From the time they are young, girls are often told to “be a good girl.” At first, it sounds like a harmless phrase, maybe even a sweet reminder. But behind those words is a lifelong burden of expectations. Being a “good girl” comes with silent rules that decide how a woman should behave, speak, and even think. It is a label society uses to control women, shaping their lives around pleasing others rather than living freely.

In many cultures, including ours, the idea of a “good girl” is linked to how much a woman can fit into set boundaries. She is expected to be quiet, polite, modest, and obedient. She should dress a certain way, speak softly, and never challenge authority. The moment she steps outside these unwritten rules, she is quickly judged. People may call her rude, rebellious, or disrespectful. These words are not just casual comments. They bring real consequences like gossip, judgment, exclusion, or even violence. According to a 2019 UNICEF report, one in three girls worldwide experience gender-based discrimination or violence by the age of 18, highlighting the serious impact of these social expectations.

This pressure follows women at every stage of life. As a child, it could mean being told not to play rough games or talk too loudly. As a teenager, it might restrict her from going out with friends or expressing her opinions openly. As an adult, it often shows up in the form of limited freedom at work, in marriage, or in making personal choices. Many women grow up hiding their true thoughts and dreams just to avoid being labeled the wrong way.

The consequences of this pressure can be far-reaching. Women who do not conform to these standards may face social isolation, difficulty in career advancement, and challenges in personal relationships. Mental health issues such as anxiety and low self-esteem are common among women who feel forced to suppress their true selves to fit societal expectations.

But things are changing. Around the world, women are starting to push back against this outdated idea. They are standing up and saying that being a “good girl” does not mean being silent or submissive. A woman can be confident, ambitious, outspoken, and still be good. She can make bold decisions, follow her dreams, and question unfair rules. Being a good person should be about honesty, kindness, and respect, not about fitting into a narrow idea of how women should behave.

Social media and global movements have played a major role in empowering women to challenge these stereotypes. Platforms allow women to share their stories and support each other, creating communities that celebrate individuality rather than conformity. Campaigns focused on gender equality and women’s rights have brought these conversations into public spaces, encouraging both young girls and adults to rethink the old labels.

It is time for society to stop using words like “good girl” or “bad girl” to control women. Instead, we should teach everyone to be themselves, no matter their gender. Empowerment comes when women are respected for who they are, not for how well they follow someone else’s rules. This change has to begin at home, in schools, and in everyday conversations. Parents should raise daughters to be brave, curious, and strong. Teachers should encourage girls to ask questions, lead, and think for themselves. Communities should stand by women who choose a different path. Most importantly, women must believe in their own worth and stop waiting for anyone’s approval.

The world does not need more “good girls” who stay quiet out of fear. It needs women who know their value and are free to live life on their terms. The old idea of the “good girl” belongs in the past. The future belongs to women who refuse to let society define their identity.

Aarya Risal

BSW

St Xavier’s College, Maitighar