👀 Raaja Aau Desh Bachaau

Namaste!

La Eta Hernus

Ghatanakram

Too tall to ride: Nepal's ride-sharing sensation, Tootle, has made waves by signing Nepali Congress leader Gagan Thapa as their brand ambassador. Tootle CEO Sixit Bhatta expressed his enthusiasm, stating, "We're thrilled about this partnership as Gagan daaju perfectly embodies our company's values. Just like us, he’s been launching himself every year for the past decade!"

Uncle Breaks Record: Sunitha Williams, the American astronaut who once held the record for the most time spent in space by a person of South Asian origin during Expedition 33, has officially been dethroned. The new record holder? Dhananjaya Rijal, an NRN uncle who’s spent the last five years endlessly orbiting Twitter Spaces, passionately debating politics and proving that true endurance knows no bounds.

Teej Tech Fail: Aama Samuha’s much-anticipated Teej party in Samakhusi was cancelled after a tech crisis unfolded—none of the moms could figure out how to connect their phones to the Bluetooth speaker. After 45 minutes of “Yo kasari milcha?” and “Mero chhora ta sajilai milaucha,” the group finally gave up and declared the event postponed until further notice—or until someone’s son shows up.

Pollution Politics: Mayor Balen has promised to tackle Kathmandu’s air pollution with a bold new target: bringing down the city’s AQI values to match the IQ levels of its residents. Critics argue this goal might be overly ambitious, but Balen insists it’s achievable—especially if he focuses on certain Facebook comment sections where the IQ is already hovering at breathable levels. In his words, “If we can’t clear the air, at least we can lower the standards.”

Dayahang Rai has released another movie where he plays a Gurung/Magar/Rai husband grappling with conflicted emotions.

Aayush Pradhan, an artist from Jhamsikhel who uses ChatGPT to write emails and Instagram captions, is reportedly upset that people are using AI to generate art.

Hospitality Awakening: A Maharajgunj restaurant owner has discovered a sudden, almost spiritual empathy for Nepali customers after USAID slashed 90% of its funding and the usual crowd of khaires stopped coming in for overpriced pasta. With the dollars drying up, they’re now greeting locals with the kind of warmth usually reserved for expats struggling to pronounce “momo.” Regulars have noticed a shocking shift from “Sir, reservation cha?” to “Sir, tapaiko lagi special discount.” Turns out, patriotism is a lot easier to find when the dollar tips disappear.

Protests Hit Home—For the Dogs, At Least: Rato Bangla students are reportedly developing newfound empathy for those killed and injured in recent protests—after discovering that dogs were hurt in the chaos, too. The shift was immediate, with several students launching hashtags and donation drives for the injured pups, while occasionally remembering to mention the humans involved. As one student put it, “Violence is tragic, but hurting dogs? That’s just crossing a line.”

Man Sues Skincare—And Maybe His Pillowcases Next: Manohar Kuikel, a 28-year-old man, is suing skincare brand Cetaphil after months of using their products failed to transform his skin. Before meeting his arranged marriage wife, Manohar’s skincare routine consisted mostly of not having one—he admits to going six months without changing pillowcases at times. Encouraged by his wife’s gentle but persistent nudges, he finally started a proper routine at 27, expecting instant glow-up magic. “I did the face wash thing, the cream thing—everything! Still looks the same,” he lamented, visibly heartbroken and now considering suing his pillowcases too.

Yeti Dherai Maya Diyi: Amid recent airplane crashes in America, U.S. airline companies have reportedly reached out to Yeti Airlines in Nepal for advice on handling PR disasters. “We heard you guys are pros at the ‘thoughts and prayers’ routine, followed by doing absolutely nothing,” said one American executive. Yeti Airlines responded by offering their signature strategy: blaming the mountains, the weather, and occasionally, divine will—basically everything except the airline itself.

Raajniti: Rastriya Swatantra Party members Sumana Shrestha and Swarnim Wagle released a joint statement condemning rajawaadis and voicing strong support for ganatantra. They took aim at figures like Rabindra Mishra and others for backing a shady character like Durga Prasai, questioning if chasing popularity was their only agenda. “It’s pathetic to see people stoop so low and rally behind a sketchy figure just to stay relevant in politics! We would never do something like that—obviously,” they declared, with the kind of confidence only politicians can muster.

And now, because not everything is a joke (although the country is)

Sabin Maharjan and Suresh Rajak had dreams, simple, human dreams that should’ve been theirs to chase. Sabin Maharjan, just 29, was a transport worker striving to provide for his wife and young daughter. His days were long and tiring, but he took pride in honest work, dreaming of building a better life for his family. That morning, he went out to pick up a vehicle from a garage, likely thinking about his daughter’s future or what little treat he might bring home for her. Instead, he was shot, another life extinguished, another family left shattered.

Suresh Rajak was a man who believed in truth-telling. As a photojournalist and the head of the camera and video division at Avenues Television, he wasn’t just doing a job; he was fulfilling a calling. He also aspired to capture reality, tell meaningful stories, and hold powerful figures accountable through his lens. But last week, while covering the protests, he found himself trapped in a burning building, set alight by people blinded by rage or manipulation. He died alone, his commitment to his craft answered only by apathy and neglect.

These men deserved so much more than the fate handed to them. Sabin deserved to watch his daughter grow up, to see her smile when he walked through the door. Suresh deserved to come home to his wife, to continue capturing the world as he saw it, to grow old doing the work he loved. Instead, their names risk fading into just another statistic, another tragedy in a country where justice feels like a distant dream.

They need to be remembered. Not just as casualties of violence or footnotes in the chaos of protests, but as men who lived, loved, and dreamed. As a father who only wanted to provide for his family. As a journalist who believed in the power of truth. They were killed by hate, by indifference, by a system that values spectacle over humanity. And if we don’t remember them, if we don’t demand accountability, then we are just as guilty of letting their dreams burn.

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