Women survivors of Nepal’s decade-long internal conflict are increasingly shaping the country’s transitional justice process, as advocacy efforts led by survivors push for accountability, legal reform, and recognition of conflict-related sexual violence.

The conflict between government forces and Maoist insurgents from 1996 to 2006 left at least 13,000 people dead and more than 1,300 missing, according to United Nations estimates. Women were among those most affected, facing arbitrary detention, torture, rape, forced displacement, and other violations, while also playing significant roles as combatants and political actors.

Devi Khadka, a former member of Nepal’s Constituent Assembly and a prominent women’s rights activist, is among those who have transformed personal trauma into sustained advocacy. Detained at the age of 17, she was tortured and subjected to gang rape by police who accused her of aiding her brother, a Maoist activist.

Reflecting on her experience, Khadka said a lack of understanding about trauma at the time shaped her response. “I didn’t understand why I suffered this,” she said, describing how she later joined the Maoist movement during a period marked by psychological distress and a desire to confront her circumstances.

Years later, the public disclosure of her rape by Maoist leaders compounded the trauma, exposing her to further harm and reinforcing the challenges faced by survivors in seeking dignity and privacy.The 2006 Comprehensive Peace Agreement formally ended the conflict and initiated Nepal’s transition toward democratic governance. Transitional justice mechanisms, including the Truth and Reconciliation Commission and the Commission of Investigation on Enforced Disappeared Persons, were established to investigate violations and promote reconciliation.

However, progress has been slow, and transitional justice remains one of the agreement’s unresolved commitments.Women survivors have faced systemic barriers in accessing justice, including stigma, social exclusion, and institutional limitations. Many lost family members who were primary earners, leaving them to assume economic responsibilities while also dealing with long-term psychological and physical impacts of violence.

Official data underscores the extent of underreporting. Of more than 63,000 complaints filed with the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, only 314 were classified as cases of sexual violence prior to legal reforms in 2024. Analysts attribute this gap to fear of retaliation, social stigma, and a lack of trust in institutions.

In response, Khadka and a group of survivors established Aparajit, meaning “the Undefeated,” a network aimed at supporting victims and advocating for systemic change. The organization has facilitated access to medical and legal services while promoting collective action among survivors.Khadka said the initiative initially faced resistance and accusations of undermining national reputation.

However, support from media organizations helped bring visibility to the issue, enabling the movement to expand and gain broader recognition.Advocacy efforts have contributed to tangible legal reforms. In August 2024, Nepal amended its transitional justice law to address longstanding gaps in the treatment of sexual violence cases.

The revised legislation includes provisions to classify sexual violence more comprehensively, remove statutes of limitation, and ensure that serious crimes are not subject to sentence commutation.Khadka said previous legal definitions were inadequate, narrowly interpreting rape and excluding various forms of sexual violence. “We brought up almost 75 percent of cases where the victim herself doesn’t call it sexual violence, and society doesn’t either,” she said, highlighting the need for broader recognition of such crimes.

The amended law also reopened the process for filing complaints, allowing survivors who had previously been unable or unwilling to come forward to seek redress. These changes reflect a shift toward a more inclusive and survivor-centered approach, though implementation challenges remain.At the international level, Khadka and other survivors have engaged with United Nations platforms to advocate for reforms.

Speaking at a Human Rights Council panel in Geneva in September 2025, she emphasized the importance of including survivors in designing justice mechanisms.“Especially in the case of sexual violence… it should be done with the involvement of the survivors themselves,” she said, noting that legal frameworks often fail to capture the lived realities of victims.

UN Human Rights has supported Nepal’s transitional justice process through technical assistance, policy advice, and engagement with government institutions, civil society, and victims’ groups. The organization has emphasized the need for a victim-centered approach that aligns with international legal standards and addresses root causes of conflict.

Efforts also focus on integrating gender considerations into justice mechanisms. The UN’s Women’s Rights and Gender Section has worked to highlight issues such as gender-based violence and women’s participation in post-conflict governance, aiming to ensure that survivors’ experiences inform policy decisions.Khadka said international support has been critical in advancing reforms and amplifying survivor voices.

Representing more than 3,800 individuals in her network, she noted that access to global platforms has strengthened advocacy efforts and contributed to legislative progress.For many survivors, participation in these processes carries both practical and symbolic significance. Public testimony, particularly in the presence of state authorities, can serve as a form of recognition and validation, helping to restore dignity.

Khadka described this recognition as central to recovery. “If a person’s lived experience becomes untrue… then there is no meaning to a life,” she said, underscoring the role of acknowledgment in the pursuit of justice.Nepal’s experience reflects broader challenges in post-conflict societies, where balancing accountability, reconciliation, and institutional reform requires sustained political commitment and inclusive approaches.

The increasing involvement of women survivors in shaping policy marks a shift toward more participatory models of transitional justice.As reforms continue, the emphasis on survivor-led advocacy highlights the role of lived experience in addressing systemic gaps and advancing accountability within complex post-conflict environments.

Deoband’s embrace of the Taliban foreign minister is dangerous — but also offers an opening.

Amir Khan Muttaqi, Foreign Minister of the Taliban-led government in Afghanistan and a senior figure in its political and ideological leadership, has recently completed a six-day visit to India — an episode loaded with meaning.

From his informal ban on female journalists, to the cancellation of his Agra leg, and his carefully choreographed stop at the Vivekananda Foundation. Yet, it is his visit to Dar ul Uloom Deoband, the theological heart of South Asian Deobandi Islam, that has invited sharpest scrutiny.

For years, Indian Muslims — particularly those aligned with the Deobandi school — have tried to draw a distinction between “their Islam,” described as democratic and egalitarian, and the Taliban’s brutal, patriarchal regime. Muttaqi’s pilgrimage to his ideological fountainhead has challenged that narrative.

When the Taliban’s foreign minister visits Deoband, and the seminary receives him with honor, it becomes almost impossible to sustain the claim that the Taliban are merely “misguided” Muslims. Why, then, should men who have subjugated women and silenced dissent be treated as heroes?

What emerges instead is a chilling recognition: the Taliban are not a deviation from Deobandi Islam according to the seminary, but one of its most literal political manifestations.

The confusion within India’s religiously-inclined Muslim intelligentsia over how to respond to this visit is telling — and repetitive. Some rush to rationalize it as “cultural diplomacy” or a gesture of goodwill in the national interest, strangely bringing the Muslim right and the Hindu right onto the same page.

Others recoil in discomfort but stop short of open criticism. Deoband’s endorsement of Muttaqi symbolically affirms the very doctrines that have justified gender apartheid, banned girls from education, and institutionalized moral policing across Afghanistan.

This moment is not merely about Afghanistan; it reflects a moral crisis within Indian muslims as well — a refusal to confront its own regressive solidarities under the pretext of religious kinship. The spectacle of Deoband greeting Muttaqi with reverence reveals the unbroken theological thread linking the 19th seminary to the taliban led theocratic governance.

Deoband’s embrace of the Taliban foreign minister is dangerous — but also offers an opening. If the Taliban truly draw their ideological legitimacy from Deoband, then Deoband carries a moral responsibility: to humanize that ideology, to insist that justice and compassion, not repression, define Islam.

The seminary has a proud history of standing against colonial injustice and for India’s freedom. Can it now stand for Afghan women denied education, or men imprisoned for thought?

If Dar ul Uloom Deoband wishes to remain relevant in a plural democracy, it must decide where it stands — with democracy, gender justice, and education, or with those who burn books, bury dissent, and blind the future of half their population.