On February 24, 2025, Sajeev Yongya, a young activist in his mid-30s, made a Facebook post. “It must have been around 11:30 pm in the hotel where we were staying, the three of us. The police entered, hurling expletives. We could hear their boots approaching us,” Yongya wrote. “It was a stroke of good fortune that they didn’t check our room. From the thuds of their boots and the sound of their batons, we knew a man was being severely beaten – he was crying and screaming in pain. We were in no position to get out of the room,” he continued. The next morning, the hotel owner handed Yongya and his friends a “zebra bag” and a backpack, saying, “These belong to the person the police took away last night”. Yongya opened the bags, hoping to find something that could identify the missing person, but to no avail. The bags contained some clothes, Samjik Mundhum, the sacred scripture, a Rudraksha bead necklace, some dried berries, a pack of corn, 6,000 Nepali rupees in cash, and a pair of shoes. That was all. “We don’t know who he is, only that they dragged him away while battering him. We have no idea where he is now nor how he’s doing,” Yongya wrote. The belongings of the man taken away by the police. Photo: Sajeev YongyaLike hundreds that night, Yongya was hiding from the police. The night had turned violent after a peaceful protest was disrupted by infiltrators, prompting the police to charge at the protestors. Tear gas was thrown into homes late into the night as the police battered and jailed protestors who had managed to escape. Out of fear of being held in custody, many injured protestors, with broken arms and head or leg injuries, continued to hide in homes or took refuge in safe spaces, away from what they considered to be the administration’s reach. There are many who claim to have spent the night hidden behind trees in the jungle, and in ditches and sewers. Those who were lucky, like Yongya and his friends, managed to sneak into hotels, and unlike their unlucky neighbour in an adjoining room, avoided the police. There is CCTV footage that captures a group of police officers loitering in front of a hotel late at night. They appear to be searching for something until one of them walks toward the camera and deliberately smashes it. One can only assume that the police wanted to leave no trace or record of the crime they were about to commit. This state-led violent repression of an indigenous movement in Taplejung District of Nepal, bordering Sikkim in the east and Tibet in the north, has plunged the district into a state of terror. In the last two months, the Armed Police Force (APF) have opened fire at people, critically injuring two. One person was hit on the thigh while the other took a bullet through the lungs. “I was hit and was lying down, weak, with my left thigh bleeding profusely. I begged them to leave me alone,” recalls Yam Limbu, a farmer. “When you are hit like that, the leg feels like a straw”, his father-in-law said. Lying on the hospital bed, waiting for a second follow-up surgery to fix his thigh, Yam, referring to the night of the gun shots, said, “I heard a man say, ‘Throw this moron off the cliff and let him die. Who cares!”. Yam thinks he is alive because he remembers a female voice intervening, “No, sir, let’s not do that”. Yam Limbu’s leg being operated in Kathmandu. Photo: Save Mukkumlung Struggle CommitteeThe “goli kanda”, or the gun incident, as it is called now, took place in January 2025 – exactly a month prior to the police crackdown mentioned earlier. “I jumped down the trail to hide behind a rock. Bullets whizzed past my head as they struck the edges of the rock inches above me,” recalled Dharman Palungwa, a 19-year-old porter. He is one of the survivors from that night who managed to escape albeit with his shoulder bones fractured in multiple places, owing to the beatings from APF’s batons, as they shouted, “You came here to die! So, die, you pig!”. The APF had encircled the protestors and fired from three different directions that evening. Cutting through the pitch-dark forest, in their bid to escape to safety, one careful and quiet step at a time, the protestors wondered what they had done to be haunted by bullets. As far as they knew, they were only getting ready to go to bed after some preparatory work for a peaceful protest program planned for the following morning, when the APF showed up. Sagun Lawoti, 19, recovering in Kathmandu after he was shot through the chest. Photo: Save Mukkumlung Struggle Committee.Home-based crony-capitalism These incidents are part of a pattern of violence that the Nepali state has inflicted on the indigenous Limbu community over the past year, with the brutality intensifying each month. The reasons behind the state’s actions remain unclear, though many consider them extreme. However, what is evident is that the Nepali government is acting at the behest of a Kathmandu-based billionaire, Chandra Dhakal, president of the Federation of Nepalese Chamber of Commerce and Industries (FNCCI) and the chairman of the IME group, a business conglomerate with dozens of business enterprises in sectors including banking, tourism, energy, remittance, automobile and information technology, among others. The Wire has reached out to the office of Chandra Dhakal. The story will be updated as soon as a response is received.As part of his business expansion, Dhakal’s ‘Pathibhara Darshan Cable Car Project’, as it is called, aims to build a cable car connecting the base of the mountain to its summit. The project has the full backing of a coalition of the ruling regime – the Communist Party of Nepal – Marxist Leninist (CPN-UML) and the Nepali Congress. Prime Minister Khadga Prasad Oli has had a checkered history of unscrupulous association with businessmen and has been accused by his own party members of pandering to crony-capitalists.The opposition, including the Maoists and the Rastriya Swatantra Party (National Independent Party), oppose the government’s decision to endorse the cable car and have instead asked for a peaceful resolution to the crisis – one that is sensitive to the questions of culture, nature and heritage. However, the Oli government seems resolute in its commitment to implement the project. It has been claimed that once the cable car project – a $21 million undertaking – is underway, it will be followed by additional investments including luxury hotels, upscale cafes and more. Yogesh Bhattarai, a parliamentarian and secretary of CPN-UML, along with Dhakal and others, have accused the Indigenous movement of discouraging ‘private sector’ investment, calling it ‘anti-development’. It is important to note, however, that the definition of ‘private sector’ in this context seems to encompass only billionaires with the power to influence politics, while excluding thousands of ‘other’ private sector entities – such as tea shops, restaurants, small to medium-sized homestays, hotels, factories, transportation services, clinics, agrovets, and so on – all of which contribute to the landscape of Taplejung. Similarly, the discourse of ‘development’ put forth in defence of the cable car project seems archaic. It fails to acknowledge that the understanding of ‘development’ has evolved significantly over the decades.Even from an economic standpoint, if the cable car project is implemented, it could dismantle the existing economic geography of the region – one that has organically developed over time to meet the needs of pilgrims, trekkers and tourists. This geography includes small businesses which contribute significantly to the area’s economy.There is no movement without the Mundhum Through an aggressive mobilisation of the state forces, namely the APF and the Nepali Police, the preliminary work for the cable car project has already begun, with the land being cleared by cutting down thousands of trees. In response, the indigenous Limbu have led a courageous resistance, at the heart of which is Mundhum. As one member of the movement aptly summarised: “There is no movement without the Mundhum.”Photo 4: Save Mukkumlung Protest March. Photo Credit: Sendo LimbuMundhum is a performative ritual rooted in an oral tradition of storytelling, passed down through generations. It represents a worldview that articulates Indigenous ways of knowing and being, deriving culture from nature. The Mundhum philosophy emphasises that ideas of justice and dignity should govern the relationship between humans and the natural world. When broken down, “mun” means constant motion, and “dhum” refers to energy. Thus, Mundhum signifies energy in perpetual motion. In other words, it is a system of knowledge that is always in flux, providing a philosophical foundation for the continuity of human civilisation alongside nature.The indigenous Limbu people oppose the cable car project because, for centuries, they have regarded the mountain as their Mundhum-sthal – the sacred landscape where the philosophy of Mundhum resides. In this context, Mundhum can be understood as a religion that venerates nature, including trees, soil, and water bodies. Known to the Limbu as Mukkumlung – the center of power – the mountain has, in recent decades, been more commonly referred to by Hindus as Pathibhara, the site of the Hindu goddess Pathibhara Devi. Over the years, the mountain peak has become a popular pilgrimage destination for Hindus, drawing large numbers of visitors from both Nepal and India each year.Mukkumlung Pathibhara Peak. Photo: Sabin NinglekhuThe mountain is also rich in biodiversity, with lush green forests that host nearly over 155 species of trees, many of which hold religious and cultural significance. It is also home to endangered animals such as the Red Panda and Snow Leopard. In fact, due to its rich biodiversity, the mountain was part of the Kanchenjunga Conservation Area, a national conservation project, until nearly a decade ago when a large portion of it was annexed and brought under the Pathibhara Area Development Committee. This government body, which falls under the tourism department, endorsed the cable car project. Therefore, alongside the demand for #NoCableCar, the movement’s call to #saveMukkumlung articulates the resolve to resist the exploitation of nature, the commercialisation of culture, and the commodification of religion on an industrial scale for capitalist gain.Transgenerational transmissions Amidst the escalating violence, there is no evidence to show that the Nepal government is serious about resolving the current crisis with anything other than a brutal clampdown. As Taplejung reeled under the violence unleashed by the police force – deployed by the district administration under the Home Ministry’s directive from Kathmandu – the ministry secretary simultaneously released a public statement on Facebook asking the protestors to come to a dialogue. This came off as facetious handling of a violent situation that appeared to make a mockery of the movement. Instead, what the government ought to have done is make a sincere attempt to feel the gravity of the situation, its location in history and let that be the basis for its engagement with the movement.The protest rally, clashes and rampant arrests happened during the last week of February. But a climate of fear and terror continues to exist in Phungling, Taplejung. Protestors continue to be on the run. Eighteen people who were arrested and charged with ‘causing riot’ are still in custody in Phungling. There is an arrest warrant issued against nine more individuals, all leaders of the movement who have fled the district. Many locals who participated in the rally, now called a ‘riot’ by the district administration, continue to be in hiding for fear of getting arrested. Those who are already arrested face abuse and threats from the police.A recent public dialogue in Kathmandu, hosted by a media house, brought together individuals with opposing views about the cable car project. The gathering included lawyers, businessmen and parliamentarians. During the discussion, a conflict expert provided context for understanding the ongoing violence. He argued, “This conflict is not isolated. Rather, it has deep historical roots, stemming from a long history of violence – symbolic, cultural, and physical – that the Nepali state has inflicted upon the Indigenous Limbu community.” He continued, “At the heart of this movement lies emotion, as it is inseparably linked to one’s identity”. The expert ended on a somber note, suggesting that the state’s failure to consider the emotional dimension of the indigenous movement would cause it to spiral out of control. The ominous tone hinted toward a conflict that could take a permanent form, with psychological scars and shared experiences being passed down from one generation to the next, if the Nepali state continued to combine extreme violence with undignified mockery, as it has thus far. A few days ago, I checked on Dharman to see how he was doing. His wound was yet to heal and the broken bones in his shoulder will take some time to recover. The steel they inserted under his skin would be removed first, followed by rehabilitation. Over tea, Dharman casually confessed, “Kathmandu is not for me”. I asked what he meant. In response, he said, “I now feel good enough to go back to Taplejung and re-join the fight”. The fractured bones in Dharman’s young shoulders will soon mend and the wounds on his skin will heal. But his bones will always remember. Sabin Ninglekhu is a geographer who studies the fields of urban planning and social movement. He currently leads an international research project called ‘Heritage as Placemaking: The Politics of Erasure and Solidarity in South Asia’.
