Nepal’s September Tragedy: A Fragile Democracy on Trial

 

~By Ramphal Kataria

 

The tragic events of 8–9 September 2025 in Kathmandu, where 30 young protesters were killed and over 1,000 injured, have exposed the fragility of Nepal’s fledgling democracy. What began as a peaceful, digitally coordinated protest by Gen Z activists against the ban on 26 mobile applications quickly escalated into a violent clash with security forces. This was not a sudden outburst but the culmination of decades of political instability, poor governance, chronic unemployment, and public disillusionment with unresponsive leadership.

Nepal has a long history of popular uprisings—from the Kot massacre of 1846, through the 1990 Jan Andolan, the Maoist insurgency of the 1990s, and the abolition of monarchy in 2008. Yet, despite becoming one of the rare nations where communists captured power through ballots, the republican project faltered. Fragmentation of parties, corruption, and the inability to deliver development eroded trust in political institutions.

Comparisons with the French Revolution, the Assam Gana Parishad experiment, and the Aam Aadmi Party in Delhi show that civic uprisings often struggle to transform into sustainable governance. Bangladesh’s recent student movement offers the closest parallel: leaderless, digitally coordinated, and youth-driven, but producing a dangerous governance vacuum.

Nepal’s geopolitical position compounds the crisis. Situated between India and China, and increasingly within the orbit of US strategic calculations, Nepal risks becoming a proxy battleground. India’s influence has waned, China has expanded its ties through the Belt and Road Initiative, and the US seeks to anchor Nepal in its Indo-Pacific framework.

Three scenarios lie ahead: (1) a restoration of the old elite order, (2) a technocratic interim arrangement, or (3) democratic renewal through new political vehicles. Only the third path promises durable stability, though it is the hardest to achieve.

For South Asia, Nepal’s unrest signals the dangers of unresolved youth discontent, weak institutions, and external meddling. The lesson is clear: without inclusive governance and credible institutions, fragile democracies remain perpetually at risk of upheaval.

Introduction

On 8–9 September 2025, Nepal witnessed one of the most dramatic upheavals in its republican history. What began as a peaceful, digitally coordinated protest by Gen Z activists in Kathmandu against the government’s decision to ban 26 mobile applications ended in tragedy. By the evening of 9 September, 30 young demonstrators lay dead and more than 1,000 injured, most from police gunfire. For a nation still struggling to consolidate its democratic experiment, the sight of blood on the streets of Kathmandu was not merely a law-and-order crisis. It was a political earthquake that shook the legitimacy of the government and raised questions about the durability of Nepal’s fragile institutions.

The unrest cannot be dismissed as a sudden outburst of youthful indignation. Instead, it reflected accumulated frustrations over chronic unemployment, corruption, stalled nation-building, and the erosion of public trust in political elites. For ordinary Nepali citizens, daily life has long been marked less by opportunity than by turmoil and precarious survival. The September uprising, then, was a symptom of deeper maladies in a state that has yet to find stable footing after dismantling centuries of monarchy.

What happened in those thirty hours also holds lessons beyond Nepal. The intensity of the protests and the brutality of the state’s response have drawn comparisons to Bangladesh’s recent student upsurge, Sri Lanka’s 2022 economic revolt, and even longer historical precedents such as the French Revolution of 1789. Each demonstrates the risks when unorganized mass anger collides with brittle political institutions.

This long-form essay situates the September 2025 events in their historical, regional, and comparative contexts. It traces Nepal’s tradition of popular uprisings, analyzes why the recent movement is uniquely destabilizing, and examines broader implications for South Asia’s fragile democracies.

Historical Roots of Protest in Nepal

Nepal’s history is punctuated by andolans (people’s movements). Far from being aberrations, civic uprisings have been milestones in the nation’s trajectory from monarchy to republicanism.

The Kot Massacre and the Rana Oligarchy (1846–1951)

The Kot massacre of 1846, in which around thirty nobles were slaughtered in a palace coup, marked the rise of the Rana oligarchy.[1] For more than a century thereafter, Nepal was ruled not by kings but by hereditary Rana prime ministers, who centralized power and suppressed dissent. The massacre set a precedent: political change through violence rather than reform.

By the 1940s, resistance to the Ranas intensified. Inspired by Indian independence, Nepali exiles and underground activists mobilized for change. In 1951, following an armed struggle and Indian mediation, the Ranas were overthrown, the monarchy was restored, and a constitutional framework promised limited democracy. Yet this early experiment faltered.

Panchayat Era and the Suppression of Parties (1960–1990)

In 1960, King Mahendra staged a coup, dismissed the elected government, and banned political parties. The Panchayat system that followed was a monarchical, party-less regime that lasted three decades. Although framed as uniquely Nepali, the Panchayat was essentially a method of preserving royal authority.

Dissent persisted, especially among students and workers. The 1979 student movement, which forced a national referendum on whether to retain the Panchayat system, foreshadowed larger democratic demands. Though the monarchy survived, discontent simmered.

The Jan Andolan and Multiparty Democracy (1990)

The 1990 People’s Movement (Jan Andolan) brought hundreds of thousands into the streets, forcing King Birendra to accept multiparty democracy within a constitutional monarchy. Yet hopes for stability soon gave way to disillusionment. Political parties splintered, corruption scandals multiplied, and social inequalities remained entrenched.

Maoist Insurgency and the People’s War (1996–2006)

Amid this disillusionment, the Communist Party of Nepal (Maoist) launched an armed insurgency in 1996. Their “People’s War” lasted a decade, claiming over 17,000 lives.[2] The insurgency both exposed and deepened the fault lines of Nepali society—between urban and rural, elite and marginalized, high caste and minority.

Jan Andolan II and the Abolition of Monarchy (2006–2008)

By 2005, King Gyanendra’s attempt to reassert royal authority backfired, uniting democratic parties with the Maoists. The 2006 People’s Movement (Jan Andolan II) mobilized millions across Nepal. Unlike the cautious 1990 movement, this uprising demanded the abolition of monarchy itself.

The monarchy was dissolved in 2008, and Nepal was declared a federal democratic republic. The Maoists, remarkably, became the largest party in the Constituent Assembly elections, making Nepal one of the few nations where communists captured power through ballots rather than bullets.

The Republican Turn and the Communist Dilemma (2008–2015)

The overthrow of monarchy in 2008 and the birth of a republic were historic. Rarely in the world have communists come to power through ballot, as they did in Nepal in 2008—much like the EMS Namboodiripad government in Kerala in 1957.

Yet Nepal’s communists faced the classic dilemma: revolutionary structures ill-suited for democratic governance. In theory, communism demands dismantling feudal and capitalist structures before socialism; in practice, Nepal’s leaders inherited a fragile state, empty treasury, and fractured society. Instead of unifying, they splintered into factions of CPN-UML, Maoists, and Madheshi groups, undermining governance and accountability.

The result has been chronic instability, revolving-door governments, and stalled nation-building.

Democratic Fragility Since 2015

The republican project faltered almost immediately. Drafting a new constitution dragged on until 2015. Successive governments rose and fell in rapid succession. Power-sharing deals, corruption, and factionalism eroded public trust. Meanwhile, 40% of working-age Nepalis sought employment abroad, underlining a profound failure of the state to provide opportunities.

Thus, the September 2025 uprising must be seen not as an anomaly but as the latest chapter in a long tradition of rupture and protest, rooted in unaddressed grievances and fragile institutions.

Comparative Analysis: Lessons from Other Movements

The French Revolution (1789) – Like the September 2025 protests, it began with grievances over daily hardships. Leaderless at first, it spiraled into radicalization, the Reign of Terror, and authoritarian rule. Lesson: anger without anchors destabilizes rather than democratizes.

Assam Gan Parishad (1985–90) – Civic movement captured power but collapsed within five years due to weak governance. Lesson: protest legitimacy is not the same as governing legitimacy.

Aam Aadmi Party (2011–present) – Sustained itself only by evolving from activism into structured politics. Lesson: movements endure only if institutionalized.

Bangladesh Student Uprising (2024–25) – Youth-driven, leaderless protests toppled an entrenched regime but left governance uncertain, opening space for technocrats and military actors. Lesson: Nepal faces similar dangers of unrest without resolution.

External Dimensions: Nepal as a Geopolitical Chessboard

Nepal’s fragility cannot be understood without its geopolitical location between India and China. Both powers see Nepal as a buffer, while the United States also views it through the prism of great-power rivalry.

China has deepened economic ties via the Belt and Road Initiative, while cultivating Nepal’s communist factions.

India’s influence, once dominant, has waned due to perceptions of overreach and unequal treaties.

The US, through aid and diplomacy, increasingly frames Nepal within its Indo-Pacific strategy.

The September unrest therefore risks becoming a proxy battlefield. If external actors exploit the vacuum, Nepal’s fragile democracy may be further destabilized.

Nepal’s Democratic Crossroads: Three Scenarios

Scenario	Description	Strengths	Risks	Likely Outcome
1. Restoration of Elite Order	Return of traditional parties and leaders through backroom deals.	Short-term stability, experienced leadership.	Deepens public alienation, revives corruption, youth anger persists.	Order restored briefly but risks another uprising within 3–5 years.
2. Technocratic Interregnum	Interim government of academics, ex-bureaucrats, or judges to restore calm.	Projects neutrality, may attract international support.	Lacks grassroots legitimacy, risks capture by external powers.	Governance limps on, but fragile and unsustainable long-term.
3. Democratic Renewal	Emergence of new, accountable political vehicles led by youth and civil society.	Channelizes anger into institutions, builds long-term stability.	Hardest path: requires leadership, unity, and resources.	Low probability in short term, but only sustainable solution.

 

Conclusion

The deaths of thirty young Nepalis in September 2025 are a stark reminder of the unfinished project of democratization. Nepal’s youth are not apolitical; their grievances stem from systemic failures—unemployment, corruption, and exclusion. But like other historical movements, their uprising risks collapse unless anchored in durable institutions.

Three scenarios lie ahead:

1. Restoration of the old elite order – delivers stability but deepens alienation.

2. Technocratic interregnum – promises efficiency but lacks legitimacy.

3. Democratic renewal – hardest but most hopeful, requiring new, accountable political vehicles.

For Nepal’s fragile republic, the lesson is clear: anger without organization breeds chaos; technocracy without legitimacy breeds dependency; and external meddling breeds instability. Only by forging inclusive, accountable institutions can Nepal escape its cycle of unrest.

The September uprising has already redrawn the contours of Nepali politics. Its reverberations will shape not only Kathmandu’s streets but the democratic futures of South Asia as a whole.

References

1. Whelpton, John. A History of Nepal. Cambridge University Press, 2005.

2. Hutt, Michael. Nepal in the Nineties: Versions of the Past, Visions of the Future. Oxford University Press, 1994.

3. International Crisis Group. “Nepal’s Troubled Political Transition.” Asia Report No. 211, 2011.

4. Upreti, Bishnu Raj. The Maoist Insurgency in Nepal: Revolution in the Twenty-First Century. Routledge, 2008.

5. Adhikari, Aditya. The Bullet and the Ballot Box: The Story of Nepal’s Maoist Revolution. Verso, 2014.

6. The Kathmandu Post. “Protest Over App Ban Turns Deadly.” September 10, 2025.

7. The Hindu. “Youth-led Agitation in Bangladesh Topples Government.” August 2024.

8. BBC News. “Sri Lanka Crisis: How Economic Collapse Fueled Mass Protests.” July 2022.

9. Guha, Ramachandra. India After Gandhi: The History of the World’s Largest Democracy. HarperCollins, 2007.

10. Anderson, Benedict. Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. Verso, 2006.

 

 

When the River Comes Back: Punjab and the Northern Deluge — A Scientific, Political and Moral Reckoning

 

The Forgotten Victims: Landless Labourers and Informal Workers

The 2025 floods in Punjab, Himachal Pradesh, Jammu & Kashmir, and Uttarakhand represent one of the most devastating disasters in recent decades, causing large-scale destruction of agriculture, livestock, housing, infrastructure, and livelihoods. Punjab, having declared all districts as flood-affected, estimated immediate losses at over ₹20,000 crore; however, the Central Government sanctioned only ₹1,600 crore in assistance. This disparity provoked criticism from Opposition parties, farmer organizations, and civil society, who labelled the relief “a cruel joke.” The analysis presented in this study highlights the inadequacy of ad-hoc relief measures and the persistence of “package politics” in disaster governance. While climate change has intensified extreme rainfall and cloudburst events, the floods were exacerbated by anthropogenic drivers, including illegal mining, encroachment on riverbeds, unplanned road construction, neglected drainage systems, and poorly managed reservoir releases. The plight of landless agricultural labourers and informal workers, often excluded from compensation frameworks, further underscores the inequities in disaster response. The paper argues for a paradigm shift towards a statutory, science-based disaster finance and management framework, emphasizing basin-level planning, ecological restoration, crop diversification, and inclusive compensation mechanisms to mitigate future vulnerabilities and safeguard food security in northern India.

 

The floods that swept across Punjab and large tracts of the Himalayan foothills this season are not a localized tragedy to be “managed” with headlines and a token cheque. They exposed a chain of failures — natural and man-made — and left millions reeling: submerged villages, ruined harvests, homes washed away, livestock dead or lost, roads and bridges broken, school buildings damaged and whole communities traumatized. The Prime Minister’s announcement of ₹1,600 crore for Punjab (and ₹1,500 crore for Himachal Pradesh) after an aerial review has been greeted with gratitude by some — but with anger, disbelief and the charge of tokenism by many farmers, opposition leaders and unions who say the figure is wildly inadequate

The scale of the disaster (the facts)

Government and media assessments show a large, multi-dimensional disaster:

Punjab: thousands of villages and nearly all districts were affected; the scale of agricultural damage runs into the hundreds of thousands of hectares (reports cite figures in the range of ~1.7–1.9 lakh hectares (≈4–4.8 lakh acres) and thousands of villages impacted). Rescue operations involved NDRF, Army, BSF, local responders and NGOs.

Uttarakhand, J&K and Himachal: cloudbursts, flash floods and landslides in hill catchments produced sudden torrents, washing away settlements, damaging infrastructure and causing loss of life in mountain valleys — the humanitarian cost here is acute because terrain and isolation make rescue and recovery harder.

Haryana and neighbouring plains too suffered widespread waterlogging and crop damage — hundreds of thousands of acres were registered on state portals for claims.

In short: lives, livelihoods and public assets across a vast, inter-connected basin were struck simultaneously.

The relief maths (and why people are outraged)

Punjab’s elected government and many observers urged a special central package of around ₹20,000 crore to address immediate relief and early reconstruction. The Centre’s announcement of ₹1,600 crore — even if made in good faith and supplemented by earlier central allocations under various schemes — looks tiny by comparison. To be precise, ₹1,600 crore is only 8% of a ₹20,000-crore immediate package demand; even adding the reportedly available ₹12,000 crore “already in the state’s kitty” would bring central support to about ₹13,600 crore, still short of the state’s ₹20,000-crore request. No wonder farmers’ unions, Opposition leaders and many displaced families called the aid a “cruel joke”.

Numbers matter because they determine whether a farmer who saw an almost-ready crop washed away can replant, whether a family that lost its home can be put under a roof, whether markets and supply chains (and therefore food security) can be stabilized. Token amounts don’t buy back sowing seasons or restore soil health in a single monsoon.

Causes: natural extremes amplified by human choices

It’s tempting to treat each flood as “an act of God”. But the science and reporting point to a mix of forces:

1. A more volatile climate — heavy rainfall events and short, intense downpours are increasing in frequency and intensity (a pattern flagged by the IPCC and several regional studies). That raises the baseline risk of floods and cloudbursts across the Himalayan catchments and plains.

2. Upstream triggers in fragile mountains — cloudbursts, landslides, glacial melt and sudden releases from natural or artificial dams in J&K, Uttarakhand and Himachal can send huge pulses downstream within hours. The Himalayan geology is young and sensitive; disturb it, and water does the rest.

3. Anthropogenic amplification — unregulated and illegal mining in river belts, unchecked road construction and poorly engineered “development” in fragile catchments, encroachments on floodplains and riverbeds, weakening of natural drainage, silted siphons and culverts — all these make floods worse and prevent water from moving safely through the landscape. Local reporting and investigations have repeatedly connected mining and construction practices to increased flood damage.

4. Infrastructure and operational choices — reservoir releases from Pong, Bhakra, Ranjit Sagar and other dams, especially when combined with intense rainfall upstream, can greatly intensify downstream inundation. Weak or breached embankments and poorly maintained drainage systems turn a heavy rain event into a catastrophe.

Put simply: climate-driven extremes expose pre-existing vulnerabilities created by governance, planning and choices about land and river use.

Who is invisible in this calculus?

Policy responses tend to focus on titled landowners and visible public assets. But the poorest are often the least visible:

Landless agricultural labourers, informal workers, daily wage earners and tenant cultivators lose immediate purchasing power when fields are flooded; they rarely show up in land-based compensation lists. Their loss is often the hardest to recover from because they lack title, savings or collateral. This is not marginal: the social fabric of rural Punjab and surrounding plains depends heavily on such labour. (Local reports and unions raised this point repeatedly during the relief debate.)

Politics of packages — why the row?

Disagreement over the size and timing of relief is political — and rightly so. Citizens expect the state and Union to act proportionately after a disaster. This is not about party scores; it is about whether disaster assistance is fair, needs-based and rapid. Claims of differential treatment of opposition-ruled states, or of “political optics” driving relief, inflame the situation and erode public trust. Several state leaders and farmer unions publicly described the Centre’s figure as paltry and politically tinged.

What should government actually do? — A practical, non-partisan plan

Short term (first 3 months)

Rapid, transparent cash assistance to affected households (not only landowners). Expand direct transfers to landless labourers and informal workers.

Immediate livelihood kits: fodder & veterinary support, seed & saplings for replanting, repair grants for tubewells & tractors, temporary housing material and water/sanitation relief.

Fast, independent, verifiable damage assessments (girdawari + third-party audits) that publish methodology and outcomes quickly so assistance is timely.

Medium term (6–24 months)

Public works employment to deploy local labour to drainage repairs, embankment strengthening, field restoration — with wages paid transparently.

Subsidized inputs and interest relief for affected farmers, plus targeted insurance payouts (and an easier claims process) for the landless.

Rehabilitate critical roads, bridges and power infrastructure with a climate-resilient design code.

Long term (3–10 years) — structural fixes rooted in science

River basin restoration: de-congest channels, rejuvenate floodplains, legally enforce no-build corridors, and remove illegal encroachments.

Strict control on mining and construction in hill catchments; environmental clearances with real field verification; close monitoring of road and hydro-project impacts. The Supreme Court and investigative agencies must follow up on reported green-norms violations.

Integrated water management: better reservoir operation protocols coordinated across states, improved forecasting, basin-level decision rules and adaptive reservoir management.

Diversify cropping and water policy: move away from mono-season water-intensive cropping on flood-prone plains where feasible; invest in micro-irrigation, crop diversification and soil restoration.

Funding and institutional reform: set up a state-contingent disaster reconstruction fund with transparent triggers and automatic release clauses, and expand social protection so citizens are not reduced to pleading for ad-hoc packages.

These measures are standard in disaster science and are echoed in NDMA and international climate guidance — the point is implementation, transparency and political will.

Questions to ask — and to answer publicly

Why were river channels, drains and siphons allowed to silt up or be encroached despite repeated warnings?

Why is much of the recovery tied to discretionary central allocations rather than automatic, statutory relief mechanisms that kick in with verifiable triggers?

How will the state and Centre ensure the invisible poor — landless labourers and casual workers — receive direct, unconditional help?

A plea — not partisan, but urgent

It is reasonable to be astonished that a calamity described by state officials as costing tens of thousands of crores is met with an immediate package that will not remotely match the scale of the immediate needs on the ground. The Centre must revisit the magnitude and design of relief — for Punjab, for Himachal, J&K and Uttarakhand, and for Haryana and other affected plains — and move from episodic, token aid to a predictable, science-led, rights-based disaster finance regime. Taxpayers’ money is not charity to be dispensed for optics; it is public revenue to secure public life and livelihoods.

Finally: floods are not only a meteorological event. They are a mirror that shows how we have used land, rivers and mountains. If we want fewer catastrophes, we must change policies and choices — fast. The people who planted the fields that feed the nation, who have risked lives on our borders and who keep the rural economy alive are not asking for alms. They are asking for dignity, for fair recompense, for a plan that will keep this from happening again. The state owes them nothing less.

References

1. The Tribune – “Modi announces Rs 1,600 cr for flood-hit Punjab; Opposition, farmers call it ‘cruel joke’” (2025).

2. Hindustan Times – Punjab floods: CM Bhagwant Mann demands Rs 20,000 crore relief package; pending dues of Rs 60,000 crore (2025).

3. The Indian Express – Flood-hit Punjab: Farmers, Opposition reject Rs 1,600 crore relief, call it inadequate (2025).

4. NDTV – Punjab Floods: PM Modi conducts aerial survey in Gurdaspur, meets victims (2025).

5. Times of India – Himachal Pradesh floods: Centre announces Rs 1,500 crore assistance (2025).

6. The Hindu – Climate change and extreme rainfall events in North India: IPCC findings (2024).

7. Down To Earth – Illegal sand mining, encroachments, and their role in North Indian floods (2024).

8. Business Standard – Punjab agriculture and flood damage: 1.9 lakh hectares affected (2025).

9. NDMA (National Disaster Management Authority) – Guidelines on Flood Management (Government of India, 2023).

10. Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) – Sixth Assessment Report: Impacts, Adaptation and Vulnerability (2022).

11. The Wire – Landless labourers in Punjab floods: invisible victims of disaster (2025).

12. Indian Express (Archive) – Drainage neglect, encroachment, and flood vulnerability in Punjab (2023).

13. Supreme Court Observations – Environmental norms violations in Himachal Pradesh hydel and road projects (2024).

14. Press Information Bureau (PIB) – PM CARES for Children, PM Awas Yojana and flood relief initiatives (2025).

 

 

 

 

Mewat’s Untold Legacy: Valor, Compassion, and Resilience

Mewat’s Silent Strength: Resistance, Loyalty, and Humanity

The blog traces the little-known yet profound legacy of the Meo community of Mewat, a region often stigmatized as backward but historically defined by resilience, syncretism, and compassion. From the valor of Hasan Khan Mewati against Babur, to the Meos’ participation in the 1857 revolt, and their refusal to migrate during Partition despite violence, the narrative highlights their enduring loyalty to India. Mahatma Gandhi’s 1947 visit to Ghasera reaffirmed their place in the Indian nation. Post-1966, however, state neglect widened disparities between Mewat and its neighbor Gurugram. Yet, the Meos continue to embody humane values, as seen in 2025 when impoverished villagers donated jewelry, food, and handmade blankets to Punjab flood victims. The blog underscores that the true legacy of Mewat lies not in stereotypes but in its culture of Kisaniyat—the fraternity of farmers—marked by compassion, resilience, and an unwavering commitment to pluralism.

The sight of 75-year-old Rahimi from Tilakpuri village in Nuh unfastening her only silver bangle — once meant for a poor girl’s wedding — and handing it over for flood relief in Punjab is a reminder that Mewat’s compassion has deep historical roots. Long stigmatized as backward, violent, or communal, the Meos of Mewat embody resilience, syncretism, and an enduring sense of kinship.

Distinct Identity of the Meos

The Meos are not “mainland” Muslims in the North Indian sense. They descend largely from Rajput clans (Chauhans, Kachwahas, Tomars) who converted between the 12th–16th centuries but retained Hindu customs. They celebrate Holi, Diwali, and Teej alongside Eid; marriages follow Hindu-style rituals; and they uphold local deities while reciting Islamic prayers. Their culture is syncretic, rooted in Kisaniyat (the brotherhood of farmers), not rigid religiosity.

Mewat and the Mughals

Mewat, straddling Haryana, Rajasthan, and parts of Uttar Pradesh, was historically a turbulent frontier. Its people fiercely defended autonomy.

Hasan Khan Mewati (d. 1527) allied with Rana Sanga against Babur and fell at the Battle of Khanwa, becoming a symbol of valor.

Earlier Khanzada rulers (Rajput converts) alternated between alliance and resistance to Delhi Sultans and Mughals, but Meos often rebelled against excessive taxation.

Throughout the 16th–17th centuries, Meos resisted Mughal authority through guerrilla tactics in the Aravalli hills.

Resistance in 1857

During the First War of Independence, Mewat again erupted:

Meos joined uprisings in Gurgaon, Alwar, and Bharatpur, attacking colonial officials.

Village panchayats mobilized armed bands that aided the Delhi rebellion.

British reports marked Mewat as a “disturbed tract,” reflecting their scale of involvement.

Leaders in the Freedom Struggle

The nationalist era saw Meo leaders emerge:

Chaudhary Yasin Khan (1896–1977) – educationist, reformer, and Constituent Assembly member, mobilized Meos in freedom struggle.

Chaudhary Rahim Khan and Chaudhary Tayyab Husain – carried forward the political integration of Meos post-Independence.

Many Meo peasants joined Kisan Sabha movements and Gandhian campaigns.

Partition and Gandhi’s Visit

In 1947, Muhammad Ali Jinnah invited the Meos to Pakistan, but they refused, declaring: “We are Indians.” Despite suffering communal violence, they chose loyalty to India.

Mahatma Gandhi, visiting Ghasera village in December 1947, praised their steadfastness, saying India’s survival depended on communities like the Meos. His reassurance strengthened their faith in pluralism.

Post-1966 Neglect

When Haryana was carved out in 1966, both Gurugram and Mewat were agrarian, underdeveloped regions. But Gurugram, riding on state investment, corporate influx, and infrastructure projects, rapidly transformed into one of India’s leading urban hubs. Mewat, by contrast, was left behind with minimal schooling, healthcare, or employment opportunities. This chart illustrates the widening gap: while Gurugram’s “development index” shot up after 1990 with globalization, Mewat’s progress remained sluggish. The disparity underscores how historical neglect, not community deficiencies, created the backwardness now associated with Mewat.Gurugram transformed into a corporate hub after 1990, while Mewat remained mired in poverty, lacking schools, hospitals, and jobs. The disparity is a product of policy neglect, not community failure.

Stigmatization and Communal Targeting

Despite their patriotism, Meos face stereotyping. In recent years, right-wing mobilizations around Krishna Janmabhoomi processions and Jalabhishek yatras stoked tensions. Lynching of youths under the pretext of cow protection has scarred the community, even though Meos have traditionally reared cattle for milk, not slaughter. Such vilification ignores their peace-loving coexistence with Hindus for centuries.

Compassion Amidst Adversity

Against poverty and stigma, the people of Mewat continue to show their humane spirit. In 2025, women donated jewelry, pensions, food grains, and handwoven gudris to Punjab flood victims. Artisans wove blankets, women baked rots that last a week, and villagers mobilized over 250 truckloads of aid — despite their own waterlogging woes.

This is not charity but solidarity — a reaffirmation of Kisaniyat, the farmer’s fraternity of shared suffering.

The Humane Culture of Mewat

From Hasan Khan Mewati’s valor to Gandhi’s embrace in 1947, from rejecting Pakistan to aiding Punjab today, the Meos have always chosen India, compassion, and tolerance. Their story is one of loyalty rewarded with neglect, yet their spirit endures.

Rahimi’s silver bangle and Aasmina’s ornaments are not mere donations. They are declarations: that humanity transcends politics, that compassion outlives hatred, and that Mewat’s true legacy is one of resilience, brotherhood, and an unwavering Indian identity.

References

1. 

1. Shail Mayaram, Resisting Regimes: Myth, Memory and the Shaping of a Muslim Identity (Oxford University Press, 1997).

2. Satish Chandra, Medieval India: From Sultanat to the Mughals (Har-Anand, 2005).

3. William Dalrymple, The Last Mughal (Penguin, 2006).

4. S.C. Misra, The Rise of Muslim Power in Gujarat (Motilal Banarsidass, 1963).

5. Government of India, Sachar Committee Report (2006).

6. Gandhi’s speech at Ghasera, Dec 19, 1947 – Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi, Vol. 90.

7. David Hardiman, Gandhi in His Time and Ours (Orient Blackswan, 2003).