Nepal's decade long conflict now feels like a distant memory. Up until 2006, every day brought news of the death of civilians, Maoists, policemen and soldiers. Although Kathmandu was hardly affected, the mood there was tense. The endless queues at checkpoints reminded people of the war raging in the countryside.
"What do the Maoists look like?" my grandmother used to ask. For those in the city, the rebels could have been space aliens.
The Maoist revolution was largely motivated by long-standing and extreme abuse and exploitation of poor rural people by a small, landowning elite. An upper-middle-class friend of mine, whom I used to tease for being a "feudalist”, admitted to me that he knew people who had raped Tharu (indigenous) women and thought little of it. But although he empathised with those who joined the revolution, he could not bear the thought that his privileges might come to an end if the revolution was successful.
That fear was shared many well-off city folks. The debates in Kathmandu bars and sitting-rooms were far away from the young people who joined the Maoists in the hope of making a change.
Many of the rebels joined up in their mid-teens. The war caused a great deal of suffering and they suffered too. Whether or not one sympathises with their aims and methods there is no doubt that many of them were brave, idealistic young people. Almost all those who fought have horrific tales to tell. Like others who were caught up in violence in other ways, many of them still suffer from nightmares.
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