Nepal burns, but are we listening? A cautionary mirror for Northeast India

Would we ever learn before the fire reaches our doorstep?

I watched in stunned silence as videos from Nepal flooded my phone. There are endless footages not of protest, but of a nation convulsing in rage. The lifeless body of the wife of former Prime Minister Jhala Nath Khanal lay in a heap as flames consumed their home. And then came more — a finance minister chased through the streets, his clothes torn, blood staining his blazer, his last desperate image that of a man scrambling over a muddy riverbank, hunted by the very people he once governed. On the very street where he must have strutted with power and disdain for his own people.

In one viral case, Nepal’s Foreign Minister — a member of the powerful Rana family — was exposed with sacks of cash stashed in her palatial Budhanilkantha home. She is beaten black and blue. Her rise through a loophole, as I am told by my Nepali friends, in the proportional representation quota, meant for the marginalised, is symbolic of a systemic rot. Her husband, Sher Bahadur Deuba, president of the Nepali Congress, and their son, catapulted into leadership, complete the image of dynastic entitlement. When the mob reached their home, it wasn’t just bricks that fell; it was the illusion of impunity.

And then emerged yet another video — a helicopter hovering above, with politicians clinging to a dangling rope, being airlifted to safety. What a remarkable turn of events, I thought. These are the very politicians of Nepal who once wielded power with impunity.

Nepal’s Prime Minister resigned in the wake of these deadly protests, with reports suggesting he has since fled the country. In a failed attempt to suppress the rising dissent, his government resorted to force, resulting in the deaths of over 19 young protesters. What they failed to grasp was that this bloodshed would not silence the movement, but instead sow the seeds of a furious and awakened generation — one that is no longer willing to wait quietly for justice, and demands accountability now

At first, the reports said the protests were about a government-imposed ban on social media platforms, perhaps a poor, tone-deaf move in a digital era. But peel back the layers, and you find the truth festering underneath. And many youths from Nepal who are overseas have been releasing reels and videos trying to explain the real cause of the protest. It wasn’t merely banning of social media as it was initially fed. The ban was a clumsy attempt to silence a generation exposing obscene displays of corruption, luxury holidays, vulgar Instagram reels flaunting wealth, and an elite political class that forgot what public service means. Wealth, in itself, is not a vice, particularly when it is accumulated through legitimate means, grounded in hard work, discipline, and ethical enterprise.

In such cases, individuals have every right to enjoy the fruits of their labour. However, the display of unrestrained affluence by those holding public office is deeply problematic. It reflects not only a lack of decorum and accountability but also a troubling disregard for the responsibilities inherent in public service. When such wealth appears disproportionate or opaque, it erodes public trust and undermines the very institutions these officials are meant to uphold.

As I watched the footage, I kept thinking of my school friends from Nepal — students I met in Delhi in the ’90s, children who had fled instability, many of whom later left Nepal entirely for Australia, the U.S., and elsewhere. Not because they wanted to leave, but because their homeland offered no hope. These are among the most resilient, hardest-working individuals I know. They are builders of new lives, yes, but always watching home with one eye.
So, when Nepal burns, it does not feel distant; it feels deeply personal. And inevitably, my thoughts turn to Northeast India. We have walked this path before; in many ways, we are treading it still. The discontent simmering in Nepal finds an uncanny reflection in the weariness of the Northeast’s youth, not a restlessness born of wanderlust, but rather a forced exodus driven by systemic failure.

This failure stems from multiple quarters, most glaringly, from the inability of elected leaders to rise above personal greed and parochial interests. The Northeast is not suffering from a lack of funds; rather, it is burdened by the mismanagement of an overabundance of resources that remain unaccounted for.
Take for instance, the figures presented in the Rajya Sabha: the Central Government allocated nearly INR 65,000 crore last year alone for the development of the Northeast. Fifty-four central ministries are mandated to allocate 10 per cent of their annual budgets to the region. In the 2025 26 Union Budget, the Ministry of Development of the Northeastern Region (DoNER) received an allocation of INR 5,915 crore — a significant 47 per cent increase over the previous year.

According to government data, a cumulative INR 64,973 crore has been spent by 54 central ministries and departments, including DoNER, on Northeast development up to March 2025. Yet the ground reality tells a different story: Where are the roads that were promised? Where are the upgraded schools and hospitals? Where are the jobs, the industries, the infrastructure that match this level of investment?

Now, with the Prime Minister finally visiting Manipur after two years of silence, reports indicate he will inaugurate and lay the foundation stones for development projects worth INR 8,500 crore. This is, without doubt, a politically and symbolically significant move from the highest office. However, the real test lies ahead: in ensuring that these announcements evolve into meaningful, long-term development outcomes. For that to happen, accountability must extend beyond the ceremonial, particularly at the level of local leadership, where the disconnect with central intentions often undermines progress. If effectively implemented, these projects have the potential to bring transformative change. But without sustained oversight and transparency, they risk becoming yet another entry in the long ledger of unfulfilled promises.

Much like Nepal, our leaders in the Northeast, particularly, are busy securing their own futures. They are on a spree of acquiring resorts, monopolising government contracts, and extracting hefty kickbacks — even from employment opportunities that should rightfully belong to qualified youth. In some cases, there are even fixed rates for transfer postings, turning public service into a transactional enterprise. Lacking both conscience and a sense of public responsibility, they continue to amass wealth in plain sight, even as the broader population struggles for basic dignity. The problem is not a paucity of resources, but a profound deficit of accountability. And as the gulf between the privileged few and the disenfranchised many grows ever wider, it is becoming a volatile fault line — one that can no longer be ignored.

The Warning Is Clear: The Youth Will Not Stay Silent

The youth today are not the silent generation of the ‘80s. We quietly left home. Gen Z is connected, conscious, and courageous. They want purpose, fairness, and transparency. And they are watching. If the leaders of Northeast India think they can go on unchecked, they should look no further than Kathmandu’s burning streets.
No, violence is not the answer. But when institutions fail, when every path to justice is blocked, people will eventually push back. And they are not always polite when they do.

We do not need a revolution of flames. We need a revolution of accountability.

Leaders must realise that political power is not inherited, and public money is not private wealth. And if they won’t clean their act for the sake of ethics, they must do it for self-preservation. Because the storm is not just coming — it is already here, just across the border.

Nepal’s tragedy is not a spectacle; it is a warning. And for us in Northeast India, it is far too close for comfort.
To my friends in Nepal, may you rise from this moment with courage and clarity. May your youth write a new story for the Himalayas.