Five days after the blast, Surendra Khatri regained consciousness at Gandaki Hospital in Pokhara. Both his hands were gone.
Unable to tell whether he was dreaming or awake, he panicked and began screaming. His family broke down in tears, but nothing could change the reality. At 20, his dream of joining the Indian Army had ended, along with his family’s hopes for his future.
Khatri, from Mangala Rural Municipality-2 in Myagdi district, was neither a Maoist fighter nor a member of the security forces. Yet he became a victim of Nepal’s armed conflict.
On June 26, 2006, he was grazing goats in a field near his home in Babiyachaur when he spotted a plastic packet. Curious about its contents, he tried to open it. The packet exploded, throwing him to the ground and leaving him unconscious and bleeding heavily.
His parents, Lal Kumar and Khim Kumari, collapsed at the sight of their injured son. His uncle Man Bahadur was helpless, too. A neighbour, Bed Bahadur GC, fashioned a stretcher and carried Khatri to the district headquarters in Beni, where treatment was not possible.
Health workers were reluctant to treat him because of the severity of the bomb injuries. After his hands and legs were bandaged, he was taken to Pokhara.
Nepal’s peace process was underway, but the Comprehensive Peace Accord had not yet been signed. Suspicion between Maoist combatants and state security personnel remained intense, and people wounded in bomb blasts and shootings could struggle to obtain help even if they had fought for neither side.
Khatri had to be carried across a suspension bridge over the Kaligandaki river before being taken to Pokhara. The lack of road access delayed his rescue, and he had lost so much blood by the time he received treatment that doctors had to amputate both hands.
The wounds on his legs and body have since healed, leaving scars. With further treatment and assistive technology, he has gradually learnt to manage many everyday tasks. But nearly 20 years later, ordinary activities remain painful reminders of what happened.
Khatri says those killed by either side of the conflict were declared martyrs, and their families received relief, compensation and reparations. Some relatives were offered jobs, and senior state officials continued to visit them. Civilians who suffered without joining either camp, he says, have largely been forgotten.
“I have never demanded that the person who planted the bomb be found and punished. But the state can at least ensure justice for us in education and healthcare,” he said. “People who suffered in the conflict have not received justice.”
After 35 days at Gandaki Hospital, Khatri did not even have the money to return home. The International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) helped him, while organisations including INSEC provided further support.
A Danish citizen later helped him obtain a passport and travel abroad for treatment. The medical care and assistive devices he received enabled him to become more independent. With the Danish citizen’s support, he also attended the Global Disability Summit in Germany, where he saw technology that could control prosthetic hands using chips. Its cost, however, put it beyond his reach.
Life without hands had initially left him unable to work or manage basic tasks without his family’s help. He also had a three-month-old daughter to raise. After returning from Germany, he learnt to feed himself, brush his teeth and maintain personal hygiene. He can now walk without major difficulty, but several daily activities remain challenging.
He wants to wear shirts and trousers, but cannot fasten buttons. He is forced to wear T-shirts instead. When a bar of soap slips from his grasp while bathing, he cannot pick it up. Even drinking tea can be difficult if it is served in a glass he cannot hold.
“The state tells us to forget the wounds of the conflict. Families of those killed may forget, and families of those who disappeared may forget. But how can I forget?” he said. “Every time I bathe, I remember the incident. Getting dressed brings the pain rushing back.”
“If there were a cup with a handle, I could drink tea with my own hands,” he said, explaining how small design changes could make everyday life more accessible.
Despite his struggles, Khatri has not given up. He lives for his two daughters, son and wife, Jyoti, who has supported him through years of hardship.
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Khatri is not alone. Bhim Bahadur BK of Badigad Rural Municipality-5 in Baglung still has a bullet lodged in his leg from a clash between Maoist fighters and the army in 2005. He has received no relief, reparations or compensation from the state or local authorities and continues to survive on daily-wage work.
Nar Bahadur Thapa, from the same area, also has a bullet lodged in his leg. He relies on crutches to walk and is more severely disabled. Because he has not been formally recognised as a conflict victim, he has been excluded from support services.
Laxmi Baskota, a former coordinator of the local peace committee, says local units could include such people in their own support programmes and offer relief or employment.
“When we went into the villages, we found many victims. But the deadline for registering some of them had already passed. Others had never been included in the state’s definition of a victim,” she said. “Many genuine victims were unable to come forward and claim their rights at the time.”
Other civilians who were not affiliated with either side include Sunita Chaudhary of Dang, Dev Datta Bhatta of Baitadi, Ram Chandra BK of Kaski and Man Bahadur Malla of Jajarkot. Rights activist Ram Sharma says the state has failed to acknowledge their suffering.
“Some victims joined political parties, which then helped them obtain relief and reparations. Those who were genuinely affected but did not align themselves with any party remain victims even today,” Sharma said. “The state must address their needs and support them in education, healthcare and other areas of social justice.”
Sharma, who worked with conflict victims for a decade through the human rights organisation Advocacy Forum, says the current government has an opportunity to address their grievances. He recommends establishing a commission to document the experiences of those left out of existing support programmes, provide relief and reparations, and ensure justice.
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Khatri now leads the National Network of Conflict Victims with Disabilities, which brings together people injured or disabled during the war who belonged to neither the state forces nor the Maoist insurgency.
He estimates that more than 1,000 such people could be living across Nepal. The network has already enrolled around 700, and members continue to identify others.
“We have already brought around 700 people into the network,” Khatri said. “We are still finding many more.”
Formal recognition by the state, he says, would itself bring considerable relief to people who have spent years struggling without acknowledgement or support.
Under his leadership, the network has also published a book titled Yuddha Ka Jibit Smritiharu (Living Memories of War), documenting victims’ experiences. Khatri hopes to compile the stories of all those affected into a comprehensive record of their suffering.
Sharma says the network could help press the state to identify and recognise victims excluded from existing programmes. For Khatri and others like him, the demand is not simply for compensation. It is for recognition, access to basic services and the chance to live with dignity.