Perhaps, the only thing that continuously moves forward in this world is time. That may be why it is said that time waits for no one. But some moments keep returning in our memories, while others make us wish they never come back.
I don’t know how those who lived through that time, or those who supported or opposed it, would describe it. They all have their own interpretations and arguments. But for those who neither supported nor opposed it yet had to walk alongside time against their will, they can only wish that those days never return.
The entire district headquarters was surrounded by barbed wire, with around 7-8 gates guarded by security forces. We had to pass through these gates frequently. From outside the wire, the sounds of gunfire would sometimes ring out, followed by the wail of sirens, reminding us to stay alert. Calling it ‘safe’ wouldn't be accurate one had to be vigilant. After all, bullets did not distinguish between civilians and combatants.
At that time, the Maoist armed insurgency or what they called the ‘People’s War’was ongoing.
The epicenter of that war was the district headquarters of Rolpa Nepal. Today, the gates are gone, the barbed wire has been removed, and people can move freely without security checks neither from the government forces nor from the rebels of that time.
That was life in the district headquarters. One can only imagine what it was like in villages where security posts were scarce, where patrols from both the security forces and the rebels arrived unexpectedly. You never knew who was conducting the security check, making it impossible to prepare the ‘right’ answer in advance. Whether the government soldiers saw you as a rebel or the rebels accused you of being a spy there was no way to know.
Imagine waking up in the morning to find soldiers patrolling your front yard, then witnessing an attack by the rebels. Imagine bullets being fired from both sides, roofs damaged by gunfire, rebels fleeing, and then the security forces interrogating civilians. What kind of answer was expected? No one knew. If you managed to escape the questioning without being beaten, you considered yourself lucky.
Yet, sometimes, the rebels did instill hope. When encountered alone, they seemed simple and approachable, though in battle, bullets knew no friends. They mobilized people from various ethnic communities, raised slogans about autonomy and identity, and attracted some with promises of equality. Their slogans—like “Land belongs to those who till it, houses belong to those who paint them” appealed to many. It wasn’t just gunfire; cultural programs were also held, and attendance was often mandatory. Songs like “I don’t need a palace of gold” echoed in the air.
They once claimed there shouldn’t be two kinds of education and private schools were banned, but inside the barbed wire, elite schools continued to operate. Now, those same leaders send their children to expensive private schools in Kathmandu. The promise of radical change was made, yet neither the land went to the farmers nor the houses to the painters.
They claimed that the country was in ruins because of the ruling class. They said that once the revolution succeeded, Nepal would prosper. There would be no gap between rich and poor, and everyone would have employment within the country.
Perhaps they believed that transforming Nepal into America wouldn't take much time. That’s why they dug tunnels for underground warfare, some of which still remain. At Bardachaur Airport, where flights never took off, they had planted wooden poles to prevent security forces from landing. Those poles are gone now, but the dug-out trenches still remain.
Indeed, time has not only removed the barbed wire, but it has also elevated some former rebels to power. But even today, the epicenter of that war remains the same. Neither the land belongs to the farmers, nor do the houses belong to those who painted them. Instead, while once chanting “I don’t need a palace of gold”, some rebels’ relatives are now linked to gold smuggling scandals.
Time waits for no one. Many were punished for celebrating Dashain, some were humiliated with garlands of shoes for alleged immoral conduct, and countless others suffered because they refused to provide financial support or held different political beliefs.
They once claimed there shouldn’t be two kinds of education and private schools were banned, but inside the barbed wire, elite schools continued to operate. Now, those same leaders send their children to expensive private schools in Kathmandu. The promise of radical change was made, yet neither the land went to the farmers nor the houses to the painters.
Today, the lifestyles of those former revolutionaries have changed. Fewer people celebrate their movement, though some still commemorate the early days of the war. Debates over its impact continue, some defend it, others criticize it. But the suffering of those who were forced to leave their homes, spending years in district headquarters and other towns, remains immeasurable.
For those who were caught in between neither in favor nor against the pain was no less. Some may call this view opportunistic, accusing people of benefiting from the changes while rejecting the past. But honestly, that time was not one to be cherished.
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