Smoke Over Singha Durbar: How a Social Media Ban Lit a Fuse in the Heart of Kathmandu
Smoke curled up from the slate roofs around Singha Durbar like a bad omen. It tasted of burning rubber and old papers, braided with the sweet, acrid tang of tear gas that still hung low over the streets. Young people climbed the marble steps of the government complex and scrawled in orange paint across the parliament walls: “We won.” For a country that has weathered palace coups, earthquakes and years of stop-start democracy, the scenes were both shocking and strangely familiar—an eruption of public fury that felt inevitable.
By the end of the second day, Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli had handed in his resignation. The immediate spark was a heavy-handed move to restrict social media and online platforms—an attempt by the government to choke off the networks where criticism spreads. But what ignited the tinder was a deeper, older grievance: a generation that feels robbed of opportunity and dignity by corruption and stalled reforms.
A Curfew, Clashes and a Nation Awakened
The official tally from the chaotic first 24 hours said 19 dead and about 100 injured. Witnesses described baton charges, rubber bullets and clouds of teargas as police tried to keep protesters from storming Parliament. The government’s ban on several social media platforms—ostensibly for failing to register under new rules—was lifted after the violence escalated, but not before it had already become a symbol of a leadership trying to silence dissent.
“They thought if they closed our feeds, our mouths would be closed too,” said Mira Shrestha, 24, a university graduate who joined the protests. “But stories travel. Neighbors came out. Workers, students, people who have nothing left to lose.”
Across Kathmandu, the unrest found its stage in places where ordinary life is usually quiet—the narrow alleys with tea stalls steaming behind metal shutters, the markets where hawkers sell roasted soy and steaming momos. Protesters lit tires on arterial roads and pushed through barricades. Some set fire to parts of Singha Durbar, the sprawling administrative heart of the Nepali state, and to the prime minister’s private residence. Footage also circulated of attacks on political figures, footage that local outlets could not immediately verify.
Voices from the Ground
“We are not only angry about the ban,” said a young man who refused to give his full name. “We are angry because our parents went abroad—my brother is in Qatar—sweating on construction sites so we might have a future. But the jobs are gone, the bribes are everywhere, and there is no accountability.”
An elderly shopkeeper in the Thamel district watched from his doorway, shaken. “This city has always been calm in the mornings,” he said. “Now it wakes with shouting. You can hear the youth calling for justice. They are loud, and no one can put toothpaste back in the tube.”
From Social Media Crackdown to Political Collapse
Oli, 73, had been in his fourth stint as prime minister after being sworn in last July. In a short resignation letter to President Ramchandra Paudel, he said he was stepping down “to facilitate the solution to the problem and to help resolve it politically in accordance with the constitution.” The president has begun consultations to find a successor and summoned protest leaders to talks.
Even as Oli left office, the aftershocks were already rippling: Kathmandu’s Tribhuvan International Airport briefly closed because of smoke from nearby fires; at least two cabinet ministers resigned “on moral grounds”; the army chief, Ashok Raj Sigdel, recorded a sober appeal for calm, urging protesters to avoid further loss of life and inviting dialogue.
“We are committed to protecting lives and property, and we will support a peaceful, constitutional process,” an army spokesman said. International actors also urged restraint—the U.S. State Department described its relationship with Nepal as “steadfast,” while calling on all sides to refrain from violence.
Why This Eruption Matters
Nepal is a country perched literally and geopolitically between giants. Sandwiched between India and China, with a population of roughly 30 million, its political life is often a tug-of-war of domestic power and external influence. The monarchy was abolished in 2008 after a decade-long movement and subsequent unrest. Since then, successive governments have promised economic transformation but delivered fitful results.
Young Nepalis have long borne the brunt of that failure. Millions of workers have left to find employment in the Gulf states, Malaysia, and South Korea, sending back remittances that amount to roughly a quarter of Nepal’s GDP—money that props up households but also exposes a structural weakness: too few jobs at home.
“When an entire working-age cohort grows up looking beyond the borders for dignity and decent pay, that sowing of frustration eventually becomes a political force,” said Ramesh Bhandari, a political analyst in Kathmandu. “This is Gen Z saying: we know what you look like when you take our money and call it governance.”
Symptoms and Causes
- Social media clampdowns: seen as an attack on digital freedoms and an attempt to control the narrative.
- Corruption: allegations of nepotism, graft and conspicuous wealth among political families fed public anger.
- Economic stagnation: few quality job opportunities at home push millions abroad; domestic growth has not kept pace with expectations.
- Political instability: frequent changes of government and fragile coalitions leave promises unfulfilled.
Local Color: Streets, Symbols and Sentiment
Walk the streets of Kathmandu after a night of protests and you will see small rituals of resilience. Young protesters leave garlands and scarves at the gates of burned offices. Vendors on the fringes sell steaming cups of chiya to police and demonstrators alike—a rare neutral zone. Nepali flags flutter beside hand-painted placards; a youth band plays a drumbeat that echoes the old protest songs but with new lyrics about jobs and social media.
“My mother said we grew up with a brand of silence,” said Anish Gurung, an IT worker who livestreamed parts of the protests. “Now, everyone has a camera. Everyone has a voice. We are using it.”
What Happens Next?
Nepal now faces a delicate choreography: satisfy the demonstrators’ demand for accountability and reform, while keeping fragile institutions intact. The president’s consultations to form a new government will be watched closely. Can a successor command enough credibility to both prosecute corruption and revive the economy? Will young voices translate their street momentum into long-term political power, or will this be another cycle of protest without reform?
These are not just Nepali questions. Across the globe, societies are struggling with the collision between digital empowerment and governance, between youthful impatience and entrenched elites. What does it mean when a population that has learned to speak online brings that speech into the streets and refuses to be ignored?
As smoke cleared from the capital, a sentiment lingered in the air that could not be so easily dissipated. “This is the beginning,” said Mira, staring at the painted slogan on the parliament wall. “We came here to take our future back. Are they ready to give it?”
