They never fought in the decade-long ‘People’s War’. They still bear its scars

Nepal’s “People’s War” was an armed conflict that lasted roughly a decade, from 1996 to 2006. The Maoists fought to change Nepal’s political and social system. The opposing side was the Nepali state, represented by its army, police and other security forces. The conflict affected far more people than those carrying weapons.

The article describes Surendra Khatri as neither a Maoist fighter nor a security-force member. He was a young civilian grazing goats when he found an explosive in a plastic packet. Bhim Bahadur BK, another civilian, still has a bullet in his leg from a clash between Maoist fighters and the army. These cases show how fighting, weapons and suspicion reached ordinary communities.

The war formally moved toward peace in 2006, but its consequences continued. People killed or disappeared were often publicly recognised and supported. Civilians who survived with serious injuries or disabilities say they were left outside many official programmes. The conflict’s legacy therefore includes both political change and unresolved demands for recognition, care and justice.

Civilians could be injured because the conflict was fought in and around ordinary communities, not only on battlefields. Explosives, bullets and armed clashes endangered people who had no political or military affiliation. Suspicion also made rescue harder. During the war, even injured people could struggle to obtain help if others believed they might be connected to one side.

Khatri was grazing goats near his home in Babiyachaur on June 26, 2006, when he noticed a plastic packet. He tried to open it, and it exploded. Bhim Bahadur BK was also a civilian, yet a bullet from a 2005 clash between Maoist fighters and the army remains lodged in his leg. Neither man had joined the conflict.

Their experiences show why victim support cannot focus only on fighters, security personnel or families of people killed. Civilians need recognition based on the harm they suffered and their lack of affiliation should not disqualify them. Unexploded devices, unsafe areas and delayed emergency care can create consequences lasting decades.

Nepal’s conflict caused a large human cost beyond the fighters named in official narratives. Widely used national estimates place the death toll at about 17,000. More than 1,300 people were disappeared, and tens of thousands were displaced. Injury totals are less consistent because records were incomplete and different institutions counted different groups. These figures should therefore be treated as commonly cited estimates, not a complete final register.

The article does not provide national totals. Instead, it shows the cost through individual cases. Surendra Khatri lost both hands after opening an explosive in 2006. Bhim Bahadur BK still has a bullet in his leg from a 2005 clash. Both were civilians, and both say they received little or no state compensation.

The missing or inconsistent records matter because numbers shape recognition and policy. A government needs reliable lists of people killed, disappeared, injured, disabled and displaced. Without them, civilians can disappear from relief programmes even when their injuries clearly came from the conflict. Long-term rehabilitation also requires tracking needs after the war ends.

Khatri found a plastic packet while grazing goats near his home in Babiyachaur on June 26, 2006. When he tried to open it, the packet exploded. He was thrown to the ground, lost consciousness and suffered severe injuries to his hands, legs and body. He regained consciousness five days later at Gandaki Hospital in Pokhara, where he discovered that both hands were gone.

Rescue was slow because there was no easy road access. A neighbour, Bed Bahadur GC, carried him on a makeshift stretcher to Beni. Treatment was not possible there. Khatri then had to be carried across a suspension bridge over the Kaligandaki river before continuing to Pokhara. He had already lost a large amount of blood.

Doctors in Pokhara amputated both hands. His leg and body wounds later healed, but the amputation permanently changed his life. With treatment, assistive devices and practice, he learnt to feed himself and manage hygiene. Everyday tasks, clothing, bathing and drinking remain difficult nearly 20 years later.

Nepal’s Comprehensive Peace Accord was the 2006 agreement between the government and Maoists that ended the armed conflict and launched a peace process. It created a framework for managing former combatants, changing political arrangements and addressing conflict-related harm. Its importance lies in moving the country from armed confrontation toward legal and political solutions.

The article places Khatri’s injury just before the agreement. On June 26, 2006, he opened an explosive and lost both hands. The accord had not yet been signed, and suspicion between Maoist combatants and state security personnel remained intense. That atmosphere contributed to difficulty obtaining timely help, even for people who had fought for neither side.

The peace process brought recognition to many people killed by either side and support to their families. However, Khatri says civilians injured or disabled without joining either camp were largely forgotten. The accord ended the war, but its promises required inclusive implementation. Relief, healthcare, education and rehabilitation still need to reach civilian survivors.

Official relief systems often favour harms that are easier to record and publicly recognise. Deaths and disappearances produce named families, certificates and established categories of victimhood. Armed groups and state institutions may also have political reasons to honour those associated with the conflict. Survivors with injuries, however, can be overlooked when they were not fighters or security personnel.

Khatri says people killed by either side were declared martyrs, while their families received relief, compensation and reparations. Some relatives were offered jobs, and senior state officials continued visiting them. Khatri, who lost both hands as a civilian, says he received no comparable state justice. Bhim Bahadur BK likewise reports no relief, reparations or compensation.

This gap shows why victim policy must include civilians harmed by conflict-related weapons and violence. Recognition should depend on verified harm, not affiliation. Fair programmes should cover medical care, assistive technology, education, work and household support. They should also make applications accessible, because remote communities and people with disabilities may face practical barriers to claiming assistance.

Victim status should be based on credible evidence of conflict-related harm, not on whether someone joined a faction. A fair system should include civilians injured by explosives, bullets or clashes, as well as people killed, disappeared or displaced. It should use clear rules, local evidence and an appeals process. This matters because Khatri and Bhim Bahadur BK say they were harmed without belonging to either side.

Recognition is the gateway to help. Khatri lost both hands, needed emergency treatment and later depended on assistive devices to relearn daily tasks. He says the state could provide justice through education and healthcare. BK still works for daily wages with a bullet lodged in his leg, yet reports receiving no relief or compensation.

Support must also be accessible. Remote roads delayed Khatri’s rescue, while expensive technology remained beyond his reach. Rehabilitation should therefore include healthcare, prosthetics, mental and social support, education, livelihoods and home adaptations. Benefits should continue as needs change, because conflict injuries can shape work, family life and dignity for decades.