Nepal’s Gen Z uprising reshaped politics. A year later, its promises remain unfulfilled

Rakesh Mahato has spent an entire year in a Kathmandu hospital, holding on to a modest goal: to stand, take a few steps and return home. The 25-year-old from Sarlahi was shot by police while protesting corruption on September 8, 2025.

Mahato is one of thousands injured in Nepal’s youth-led Gen Z uprising. The immediate spark was the KP Sharma Oli government’s ban on social media, but the protesters were challenging deeper grievances: systemic corruption and decades of power-sharing among a small circle of ageing politicians.

What began as a peaceful demonstration spiralled into deadly violence. As many as 76 people died and 2,638 were injured during the protests on September 8 and the violence that followed the next day. Public and private property was also destroyed. The spontaneous movement became a historic rupture for Nepal’s young democracy, turning the lives of thousands upside down.

A year on, activists say the movement’s promises have yet to reach daily life. The faces inside Singha Durbar, Nepal’s administrative centre, have changed, and Shah, formerly Kathmandu’s mayor, became prime minister after the election. His party won nearly a two-thirds majority. But for those who bled in the streets, Mahato says, little has changed.

Kantipur spoke to nearly a dozen people affected by the protests. Their demands remained strikingly consistent: an end to corruption, better governance and a government accountable to its citizens. Mahato had come to Kathmandu from Sarlahi to study for a bachelor’s degree and prepare for Nepal’s civil service examinations. He wanted to support his struggling family and help educate his younger brother. Jobs were scarce and the economy was in freefall, reinforcing the disillusionment that led him and his brother to join the demonstrations.

The protest was peaceful until shortly after noon, when gunfire erupted. Mahato and others rushed to help fellow protester Dipendra Basnet after Basnet was shot in the head in front of Parliament. “That’s when police opened fire from behind,” Mahato recalled from his hospital bed. His account captures the unresolved distance between the uprising’s political impact and the lives of those who paid its price.

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That’s when police opened fire from behind.