Monday marked the bloodiest day in the democratic history of Nepal as security forces unleashed terror on the Gen Z protesters speaking out against corruption, nepotism and social media ban. KP Sharma Oli’s barbarian vulgarity was on full display in front of the country’s parliament, as his men rained bullets on unarmed youths, killing 19 by the time this paper went to print. This is as many killings as those committed by Gyanendra Shah during the movement for the restoration of democracy in 2006. The despotic former king’s murderous credentials have now been dwarfed by the democratically elected prime minister, who yesterday oversaw the cold-blooded murder of his citizens in broad daylight right outside the temple of democracy.

I fear, my dear compatriots, that when you read this paper on Tuesday morning after a long, sleepless night, the death toll might have risen, for many among the 350 injured have been hit with bullets on their heads and chests. In murdering the starry-eyed twenty-somethings in broad daylight right in front of the parliament, Oli, aided by his unscrupulous lieutenant, Home Minister Ramesh Lekhak, has shaken the conscience of the nation. As is his wont, Oli has shown no remorse for having orchestrated the murder; his government’s spokesperson, Prithvi Subba Gurung, as shameless as ever, blamed vigilante infiltration for the murder; and Lekhak resigned after a backlash while his party chief, Sher Bahadur Deuba, maintains deafening silence.

As if being governed by imbeciles was not enough, Nepalis yesterday saw firsthand what it feels like to be ruled by barbarians. And Oli’s barbarian act will haunt generations of Nepalis in the days to come, for the sheer scale of violence a democratically elected leader can unleash on his people.

Songs of protest

The march from Maitighar to New Baneshwor was for most Gen Z youths the first protest of their lives. In the crowd were nervous teenagers in their school and college dresses who had bunked their schools and colleges because, for at least one day, their rights as citizens of this state trumped their obligations as students. There were excited office goers who had requested a half-day leave from their offices to offer solidarity to their fellow youths. There were well-meaning millennials who had joined the protests just so that they could cast their protective eyes on their younger siblings. And then there were the patriots who had just shown up to offer their moral support. This was the protest that would bring the keyboard warriors of the new generation onto the streets for the real fight—because enough was enough.

In their social media posts, the protesters had all along been very particular about their commitment to a peaceful march. No matter the provocation from vigilantes, they would, they emphasised, commit no act of violence or vandalism. All they would do was sing the songs of protest, paint the picture of resistance, and let the government know that they were watching. And sing they did, the anthem of protest their grandparents and parents had sung during the peak of anti-monarchy protests in the 1980s and the 2000s: “Gaun gaun bata utha, basti basti bata utha (Rise up from every village, rise up from every town)”. Alas, what awaited them at the barricades in Baneshwor was a murderous lot even their seniors hadn’t seen.

Democracy’s nemesis

In at least the past decade, when Oli has been at the centre of national politics, there has hardly been any doubt about his undemocratic credentials. His disregard for democracy was evident in his twin coup attempts against parliament in December 2020 and May 2021 in cahoots with a rubber-stamp president, Bidya Devi Bhandari. The second coup attempt, in fact, came right in the middle of the pandemic as citizens in ill-equipped hospitals gasped for oxygen. The Achilles’ heel of democracy is that the ilk of Oli can slither back into the hallowed halls of parliament despite poisoning the very system that has nurtured their ambitions. And so, here we are—wretched of the earth, condemned to see the flowers of the future nipped in the bud.

Make no mistake, the barbarians at the top got ever so emboldened due to our culpability, our failure to fulfil the citizen dharma. For at least the past two decades, we have kept believing in the lie that we were becoming good citizens by continuing to pay our taxes while giving a free hand to the politicians. Finally, the Gen Z, who we thought were too busy creating content on the internet, said “enough is enough” and came on the streets and paid the price of our complacency.

Rage on!

As we struggle to process the grief and rage emanating from an unprecedented national tragedy, as our Gandhian ideals of non-violence seem insufficient to tackle the atrocity committed on the citizens, we must continue to believe in our ability to defenestrate the barbarians through democratic means. Unfortunately for the barbarians at the top, no barrel of the gun has ever been built as powerful as the hearts of the people seeking justice. And so, fight we must, with all our might, to retain our power as citizens of this nation. This is not a protest against social media ban, nepotism or corruption anymore; it is a struggle to save our democratic rights and our humanity. As our slain compatriots rest in rage, we must roar across the mountains and the plains, the villages and the towns, with the clarion call to save the soul of this nation.