Fire in the Streets: Day 2, Martyrs, and the Collapse of a Government

From Silence to Streets: Nepal’s Gen Z Protest 2025 Story — Part 2 (Personal Account)

Previously, Day 1 (September 8th)

On September 8th 2025, what began as a leaderless Gen Z protest against corruption turned into one of the largest demonstrations in Nepal’s history. Thousands of young people flooded the streets of Kathmandu and cities across Nepal.

What we didn’t expect was the violence: police opened fire on peaceful protesters, killing many, including a 12-year-old child. As I returned home that afternoon, exhausted and shaken, I’d no idea that September 8th was only the beginning. Day 2 would be the day Nepal burned.

Flag of Nepal raised during the protest, September 9 2025. Photo by anonymous.

From Grief to Rage: The Night That Changed Everything

The sadness and guilt of September 8th had crystallized into something sharper by the morning of September 9th: rage.

The Discord server that began as a coordination hub for the protest had transformed overnight into a rescue operation. By midday, it was flooded with calls for help. By nightfall, videos circulated that would haunt us: children being shot, police showing no mercy, tear gas thrown inside a hospital, officers storming wards. Throughout the night of September 8th, police hunted protesters around Baneshwor. People kept sharing videos of what was happening in their neighborhoods, the violence continuing long after we’d gone home.

The grief-stricken Gen Z protesters sharpened their demands: this youth-killing government must step down. Everyone responsible for September 8th must be held accountable by law: from the Prime Minister down to every officer who fired.

With this rage burning, September 9th’s protest was called.

The Government’s Cheeky Move: Curfew Everywhere

The government tried to play clever. New Baneshwor, the main protest area, was already under curfew. By September 9th morning, the government extended curfew to all of Kathmandu district.

Still, the Gen Z organizers planned a sit-down, non-violent protest at Maitighar, urging all youth to gather by 11 AM. Groups within the valley planned to rally from their areas and converge at Maitighar. But by 8 AM, curfew was imposed in Bhaktapur as well.

My friends and I were confused, trying to figure out how to reach Maitighar in the middle of a citywide curfew. Regardless, subgroups formed in Discord according to areas, planning gathering points, times, and routes.

The Elders Join: A Different Kind of Protest

While we planned, the older generation was already on the streets.

Parents who’d lost children and horrified elders flooded the streets calling out the government’s crimes. This protest looked familiar: chanting slogans, burning tires, moving in organized groups.

Everything was being live-streamed on social media. This revolution was televised.

But something had shifted. The anger was palpable. People showed violent hatred toward police, shouting at them, calling them emotionless and useless.

In Bhaktapur, where a blood donation drive was being conducted for victims, police tried to disperse the crowd due to curfew. The frustrated, angry locals hit the police with stones and chased them away.

Even the aunties and bajus (grandmas) on the sidelines were shouting, “Haan, eniharu lai!” (“Hit them!”).

Scene at Bhaktapur where crowd chasing the Nepali Police who tried to stop blood donation on September 9 2025. Photo from Personal Collection.

When the Mob Reached Prachanda’s House

While planning continued, a video appeared: a mob had reached Prachanda’s house.

Pushpa Kamal Dahal: former Prime Minister, one of the top party’s leader, the man who led the 2006 civil war that ended the monarchy — his house was being stoned. People were trying to break into his residence.

Within hours, the news exploded. Houses of politicians across the valley were being vandalized, some set on fire, many getting mob-lynched. The crowd wanted more.

In Bhaktapur, people started asking: “Let’s do the same to the PM’s personal residence.” Groups from multiple areas mobilized. It wasn’t just popular politicians, anyone involved in politics or governance, their houses were being hunted down, vandalized, and burned. Their own neighbors and locals cheered the protesters and even joined.

Crowd gathered near PM KP Oli’s personal residence at Balkot, Bhaktapur at September 9th. Photo from personal collection.

“Mummy, I’m Going.” “I’m Coming Too.”

When I saw the crowd chanting and shouting, I could no longer stay home.

I told my mom I was leaving. She said don’t — after what happened yesterday, she was terrified.

When I insisted, saying everyone was out there and I needed to be there too, my mom said something I never thought she would: ‘I’ll go too.’

So we went together.

The gullies, the main roads, everywhere was filled with people. Crowds went from house to house, shouting, cheering. The older generation supported the kids, saying, “This should have happened a long time ago.” “This is what should happen to corrupt people.” “We support Gen Z.”

Me and mummy walking to the protest area hand in hand, September 9th 2025. Photo from personal collection.

The Deuba Couple and the Smoke-Filled Sky

When I came back home around 3 PM, videos were circulating about the Deuba couple.

Sher Bahadur Deuba: former Prime Minister, and his wife Arzu Rana Deuba, former Foreign Minister, their house had been vandalized. They were insulted, beaten, rescued from their own home.

The Kathmandu skyline had equal numbers of smoke plumes and army helicopters.

People stood on balconies, terraces, and chowks, pointing at smoke and asking, ‘Whose house is that?’ Watching helicopters and wondering, ‘Who’s being rescued by the army?’”

Within minutes, updates circulated in Discord: politicians were being airlifted from their homes, government housing, and work locations. There was a high chance they’d flee the country. Calls were made online to move to the airport, but it already had tight security from the army. The dispersed crowds, busy burning houses in their own areas, couldn’t get there in time.

The Collapse: Ministers Resign, Social Media Returns

Throughout September 9th, ministers began abandoning ship. One resignation, then another, then a flood. The government quietly removed the social media ban that morning, hoping it would calm us down. It didn’t.

Student union members and party affiliates started resigning from their posts. But the Prime Minister? When asked the night of September 8th whether PM Oli would resign, the government spokesperson gave a firm no.

Then the news came: at the very parliament house where youth had been killed yesterday, today the crowd had broken through the gates and entered. The narrative of the videos was triumphant: “The Nepali people have finally entered the parliament building.”

There was so much joy, so much victory — until it happened.

**K.P. Sharma Oli, the Prime Minister of Nepal, resigned.**

For a brief, shining moment, we’d won.

Victory Turns to Ashes

We got our demand. Discord channels and Instagram pages called all Gen Z protesters back home.

But many in the crowd didn’t listen. They’d gone too far.

The Parliament building was lit on fire. Government buildings and police stations had already met their mark. Our nation’s pride, our biggest architectural marvel, the executive house — **Singha Durbar** — was being threatened.

Desperate calls, videos, prayers begged people to come back. The building housed all our ministries, our data center, our history. It cannot burn.

But the people didn’t listen.

They burned it. Along with the Supreme Court — our judiciary.

Template shared in instagram by more than 16.9K people showing photo of burining Singha Durbar, Parliament, and Suprem Court on September 9th 2025. Photo from anonymous.

The Looting: When Protest Became Carnival

What I saw on social media that evening still haunts me.

People looted from politicians’ houses, government buildings, and business establishments. From small tablecloths to money, furniture, appliances, everything was taken.

Cash was thrown in the air like movie scenes from Deuba’s and the former Energy Minister’s houses, bills fluttering down as crowds cheered.

People were seen dragging sofas, refrigerators, tables down the streets. Many appeared wearing police uniforms, mocking, giggling, posing for photos. The absurdity was chilling.

Gen Z drove everything that moved: cycles, cars, buses, trucks, police vans, even JCBs.

Someone joked online, “If the crowd had entered the airport, they would have flown the planes too.”

They set places on fire and made TikToks in front of the burning buildings. They vandalized property and took items as souvenirs. They formed groups with random strangers on the streets and danced and sang together, as if it were a festival.

The streets had become a carnival of chaos.

The Moment Everything Turned

In the span of a few hours, our legislative, executive, and judiciary branches were all burning. We were in a power vacuum.

Hotels, colleges, supermarkets were looted and burned. Banks were broken into. School and college buildings set ablaze. The whole city, the whole country, was burning.

We didn’t have police to control the crowd, throughout the day, police stations had been targeted, officers beaten. Many ran. Many surrendered and were humiliated.

Amid this madness, crowds stormed Nakhu Jail. What began as a release of a detainee spiraled into something larger: over 13,000 prisoners poured out, freed by protesters or by each other. Among them was a notorious prisoner, cheered out of his cell like a folk hero. From Nakhu, word spread fast, and prisoners from other jails soon joined the streets. Kathmandu wasn’t just burning anymore, it was lawless, unleashing everything it had locked away.

People called for help and rescue, but no one was there to listen. No government. No police. Singha Durbar, Parliament House, Supreme Court, all kept burning throughout the night.

But every Nepali’s heart turned colder every minute.

The Question That Haunts Us

We’ve been cursing and shouting at corrupt politicians forever. But when we had the opportunity, how different are we?

At the end of the day, they are our representatives. That we chose. That we sent there.

When the Nepal Army finally announced at 10 PM on September 9th that they’d be taking over protection of the country, Nepalis finally exhaled, hoping this would calm the burning streets.

“Genji, Ganji, Gen Zz”

Many Nepali people were hearing the term “Gen Z” for the first time. Many didn’t know if it was a new political party or just a term for the country’s youth. Understanding that it referred to a specific generation born within a specific year range was far from common knowledge.

They called us Genji, Ganji, Gen Zz — whatever felt convenient.

Reflection: When Victory Becomes Tragedy

September 9th was supposed to be our triumph. The PM resigned. We won.

But as I watched Singha Durbar burn on my screen, I realized: we hadn’t won anything. We’d lost control. We’d lost ourselves.

Day 2 wasn’t just about bringing down a government. It was about what happens when rage has no direction, when a leaderless movement loses its soul, when victory turns to ash in your hands.

We wanted justice. We got anarchy.

We brought down the government in 48 hours; without meaning to. And the question remains: what now?

Sources & Further Reading

This personal account is part of a larger historical moment. For readers who want to understand the full context of Day 2:

Day 2 Coverage (September 9, 2025)

• **Prime Minister Oli resigns amid deadly protests** — The Kathmandu Post Breaking news of PM K.P. Sharma Oli’s resignation.
• **Nepali PM forced to step down, parliament torched amid deadly protests** — Al Jazeera International perspective on the day’s events.

The Fires and Violence

• **Nepal crisis: Army deployed as death toll rises amid political turmoil** — UN News Details of buildings burned including Singha Durbar, Parliament, and Supreme Court.
• **Nepal’s September inferno: The day Kathmandu burned** — Global Nation Visual documentation of the fires across Kathmandu.
• **Nepal protests grow more violent as protesters torch government buildings** — CBC News Coverage of attacks on politicians’ homes and the escalation.

Analysis and Aftermath

• **A parliament in flames, a leader toppled. Nepal Gen-Z protesters ask: What comes next?** — CNN Examines the consequences of September 9th and the power vacuum.
• **Who’s leading Nepal after Oli resignation, what’s next for Gen Z protests?** — Al Jazeera Analysis of the political vacuum and what comes next.

Wikipedia Documentation

• **2025 storming of the Nepalese Parliament** — Wikipedia Comprehensive documentation of the parliament storming.
• **2025 Nepalese Gen Z protests** — Wikipedia Full timeline and documentation of the movement (regularly updated).

Part 3 coming soon: Discord Democracy: How Gen Z Invented Politics Overnight.

This is Part 2 of a 5-part series documenting Nepal’s Gen Z protests from a participant’s perspective. Read Part 1: Why Nepal’s Gen Z Said Enough