Two years ago during Dashain, I penned a memoir for Himal Khabar titled ‘It’s Difficult to Live as a Communist Son’. A young man who calls me “uncle” expressed interest in reading it, so I sent the article to him via WhatsApp.

A few weeks later, when we met, I asked for his thoughts. While I was initially skeptical that he’d read it, he proved me wrong by recalling key details. He mentioned how my father had to be taken to Siliguri, India, for treatment and eventually passed away there, and how our family had endured immense hardship because he was a communist. After confirming he had read the piece, he added, “These days, the word ‘communist’ just means a rogue, a cheat, or someone who takes commissions. Communists have gotten so rich, Uncle!”

That young man is from my son’s circle of friends. Their generation is called the ‘Y’ or ‘millennial’ generation, according to current trends. The ‘Y’ generation’s view of communists is clear from his statement. As for how the ‘Z’ generation, which is currently protesting to overthrow the government, views communists, that can be understood from the fact that most of the private homes set on fire during the protests belonged to communist leaders.

Then I remembered the writer Kumar Nagarkoti, who, in my estimation, belongs to the ‘X’ generation. I recalled these lines he wrote: “People call the UML the Communist Party of Nepal. I’m surprised. A party where NGOs, stockbrokers, contractors, and the neo-bourgeoisie have a monopoly? This is too much, sir! You are something else, NKP Sir. You are making a joke out of us poor people.”

Kumar’s comment was published on January 2, 2020, in Kantipur newspaper’s Koseli page, in an article titled Changga Jasto Mann Aakashganga Tira. Although Kumar mentioned a specific party, this comment is not entirely wrong for other parties in Nepal that bear the name ‘communist.’

We have read the views of the X and Y generations towards those known as communists, and we have seen the behavior of the Z generation in the fires they set.

Indeed, those who call themselves communists now ride expensive cars, live in magnificent mansions, play with millions, and don’t go to hotels below five stars. Those they verbally denounce as “broker capitalists” have themselves been transformed into them. They raise the slogan of democracy outside, calling themselves proletarians, but secretly become the earners of wealth. It’s not surprising that the X, Y, and Z generations are seething with resentment, anger, and hatred towards this duplicitous character and hypocrisy. After all, they didn’t get the title of “Communists” (earners) for nothing.

The communists my generation saw were a different breed. We, whom Westerners call “Baby Boomers,” witnessed a generation of dedicated individuals.

Like Raj Kumar Dikpal, they chose a path full of hardship, becoming the voice for the poor, the suffering, and the helpless. They were committed to fighting for the rights and welfare of others, embracing the collective good by sacrificing their own personal interests. The happy world they envisioned—one built on justice, equality, and brotherhood—seemed to me like a beautiful dream. To this day, it remains just that.

This is a story from Dharan where I grew up, and where I had closely observed those who had embraced communist principles, joined the communist party, and called themselves communists since my childhood. A root of communism sprouted in our own house in the form of my father. My father was a worker at the Rani-Jogbani’s Bobbin Mill when he joined the squad that carried a gun during the revolution of 1950/1951, and stormed the residence of the Rana Bada Hakim Uttam Shamsher in Biratnagar.

The seed of revolution planted by taking part in the attack on the building, which was considered a fort of the Rana dynasty, must have made him a communist, a principle to which he remained loyal throughout his life. Until I was four or five years old, my father was mostly absent from home. You could say my childhood passed without his guidance. Much later, when I became an adult and understood politics, I learned the reason why he was gone from home for so long and would leave again after spending just one night at home. That was a time when the Communist Party was banned in the country, which lasted from 1950 to 1955. His profession as a lorry driver took him far away anyway, and as an active communist, he had to do party work secretly. That was the real reason he was gone from home.

His comrades would often visit our house. They were all kinds of people—from the so-called barefoot workers and farmers to small petty traders, low-level employees to teachers and educated individuals. As the first general election of 1959, called the Great Election, drew near, the coming and going of these people increased even more. They would get engrossed in long discussions. They would mention words like Marxism, socialism, communism, capitalism, and the proletariat. They would take the names of Lenin, Stalin, and Mao Zedong. They would ponder over the Bolshevik Revolution and the Chinese Revolution. They would say that a government of farmers and workers should be established in Nepal, just like in Russia and China.

English was a very distant thing, so the revolutionary books they understood and read were mostly in Hindi. The educated comrades would discuss books like ‘Manav Samaj,’ ‘Bhago Nahi Duniya Ko Badlo,’ ‘Samyavad Hi Kyon,’ and ‘Baigyanik Bhautikvad’ written by Mahapandit Rahul Sankrityayan; ‘Maa’ and ‘Mere Vishwavidyalaya’ by Maxim Gorky; ‘Agnidiksha’ by Nikolai Ostrovsky; ‘Dada Comrade’ by Yashpal; ‘Ek Gadhe Ki Atmakatha’ by Krishan Chander; and ‘Asal Communist Kaise Bane?’ by Liu Shaoqi. At the same time, they would say that they must read storybooks published in Nepali like ‘Yo Ho Soviet Russia’ and ‘Ajako China’ written by Govinda Lohani, and ‘Comrade Jane Hoina?’ by Jagatmohan Adhikari.

It hadn’t even been a decade since the communist revolution succeeded in China, but more than four decades had passed since the Russian Revolution. China was primarily preoccupied with maintaining its internal stability, while Soviet Russia was making great strides in industrialization and science and technology.

It had launched the first satellite ‘Sputnik’ into space. While the first living creature, a dog named Laika, did not return alive after being sent into space for an experiment, about two years later, it successfully brought back two dogs named Strelka and Belka after their space journey.

Thus, the foundation was prepared to send a rocket with a human into space. In another two years, it successfully sent Yuri Gagarin into space. It seemed that the Soviet Union had left the United States far behind in the space race. This encouraged the communists in Nepal as well, because until then, Soviet Russia had been the source of inspiration for the world communist movement.

Around the same time, in the state of Kerala, India, communists succeeded in forming the first elected government on the basis of adult suffrage. This was perhaps the first example in the world of a communist government formed in a democratic way, without bloodshed and without an armed revolution. E.M.S. Namboodiripad became the Chief Minister of Kerala. It’s a different matter that Jawaharlal Nehru’s central government removed Namboodiripad’s communist government and imposed President’s Rule there after just two years. But as long as the communist government in Kerala lasted, it was a very inspiring subject for Nepali communists. They would give examples of Namboodiripad’s scholarship and simplicity.

They would talk about how as Chief Minister, Namboodiripad would not even allow his family members, let alone his wife, to ride in the government car he received, saying, “This facility is not for you; the government has given it to the Chief Minister.”

They would make their argument believable by asking, if a communist government can be formed through votes in Kerala, why can’t it be formed in Nepal?

They were confident that such a government would come, which would provide taxes to farmers according to their plowing, provide two meals a day for the poor and suffering, free education for children, medicine and treatment when they fell ill, a roof over their heads, and peace based on equality. They would address each other as “comrade.” It was a greeting that was used equally for both male and female. That address was an expression of equality and brotherhood. There was no age discrimination in it. A young person could be a comrade of an adult, or an adult could be a comrade of a young person. There was no hint of hierarchy in that address.

It was at such a time when the political enthusiasm of the communists was at its peak (at least in Dharan) that the general election of 1959, called the Great Election, arrived. The Communist Party’s election symbol was three cobs of corn in the middle of a sickle. The Nepali Congress’s election symbol was a dense, plump tree, while the Gorkha Parishad’s was a house, I think! The symbol of Dr. K.I. Singh’s United People’s Party was a paddy stalk. That party had created an attractive election campaign song, “The paddy stalk sways, O dear, the country is happy,” which had become quite popular.

I, too, along with others my age, eight or nine years old, had distributed handbills with the sickle and three cobs of corn symbol. There was no extravagant publicity with banners, streamers, and various frills back then; even using a microphone was rare. Dharan was in constituency number 33, and Divya Raj Acharya was the Communist Party’s candidate. Divya Raj, who wore glasses and had a commanding voice, was known for being frank and outspoken. My father and his comrades were fully confident of their candidate’s victory. But when the election results came out, contrary to everyone’s hopes, the Nepali Congress candidate, who was a person from a far-off place like Inaruwa and almost unknown to the people of Dharan, won. How tough the contest was between the communist and Congress candidates was clear from the number of votes they received. The communist candidate Divya Raj Acharya was behind by only 148 votes.

One interesting aspect of that election was that an independent candidate named Danalal Chaudhary from Sinuwari had run, and his election symbol was a hooded cobra. That election symbol became so famous that after the election, the people of Dharan had coined a phrase, “Danalal,” instead of “Goman” (Spectacled Cobra or Binocellate Cobra). People would say, “Danalal has come,” “Danalal might bite,” “Be careful of Danalal,” “Watch out for Danalal.”

The result was even more heartbreaking for the communists in Saptari’s constituency number 37 than in the Dharan constituency, where the party’s candidate Krishna Raj Verma was defeated by an independent candidate by a margin of only 107 votes.

Out of a total of 109 members of parliament, the Nepal Communist Party had won a total of four seats, which included Tulsilal from Lalitpur, Kamalraj Regmi from Palpa, and two candidates from Rautahat. The Nepali Congress won 74 seats and formed a single-party government, the Nepal Nationalist Gorkha Parishad won 19 seats, and the United People’s Party won five seats, becoming the second and third largest parties in parliament, respectively. The Communist Party, with four seats, also remained in fourth place in parliament. For the Communist Party, which had fielded candidates in a total of 47 places, this result was somewhat unexpected. Even its founding leader, Pushpalal, was defeated by the Nepali Congress’s Ganesh Man Singh in Kathmandu.

Although they had to face defeat in the general election, two years later, in the Dharan municipality election, the communists avenged that loss by winning the election in eight of the nine wards. Politics has such ups and downs—sometimes up, sometimes down. Kedarnath Khanal became the first mayor of Dharan municipality, and Krishna Prasad Shrestha B.A. became the deputy mayor. The winning ward members were Ram Tamrakar, Yagya Prasad Acharya, Kesha Prasad Acharya, and Govind Moktan from the Communist Party, while Yogendra Bahadur Thapa and Surya Prasad Upadhyay had won with the support of the Communist Party. Bhagwat Govind Shrestha of the Nepali Congress was the only one to win from ward number two.

The winning candidates in the Dharan municipality election were local individuals known as communists. Among them, Krishna Prasad Shrestha and Yagya Prasad Acharya were newer than the others, but they were educated—they had passed B.A. from Banaras. Because Krishna Prasad Shrestha was the first person to pass B.A. in Dharan, his name even became “B.A. Krishna.”

Besides these, the well-known communists of Dharan at that time were: Ishwarman Bishwakarma, Jadubir Bishwakarma, Hiralal Bishwakarma, Tularam Bishwakarma (T.R. Bishwakarma), Chhabilal Lamsal, Bishnu Kumar Hamal Thakuri (BKT), Shree Bahadur Ale and Nirmal Giri from Banjhghara, Prithviman Pariyar, Dhan Bahadur Thapa (Barmeli), Bhim Maskey, Krishna Bhagat Shrestha, Chandra Bahadur Shrestha, my father Indra Bahadur Thapa, and Chinidevi Shrestha, whom everyone called “Nini.”

I had not met or known Shree Bahadur Ale and Nirmal Giri from Banjhghara, and Dhan Bahadur Thapa among them. I knew all the rest at that time. Ishwar Man Bishwakarma lived near our house on Hathisar Hill and worked as a goldsmith from home. He was childless. When he met me, he would behave with love and affection. A very gentle and soft-spoken person, he had some spiritual inclination, and would recite the Gita daily. His words were unfiltered, restrained, and of a refined nature. When he had to refer to someone’s husband, he would use the word “his nath” (lord). I first heard the phrase “Hathi chale bazar to kutta bhauke hazaar” (When the elephant walks in the market, a thousand stray dogs barks along the way) from him and picked it up like a parrot, which I haven’t forgotten to this day. I also use it occasionally, imitating him.

Jadubir had also adopted the ancestral profession of making gold ornaments, but he was talkative and of a stubborn nature. He lived in the Kholsha Pari area, I think! Hiralal and Tularam were those Dalit brothers whom Pandit Chhabilal Pokhrel had taught by making them sit on the verandah, breaking the narrow tradition of untouchability that existed at that time. Prithviman Pariyar was a neighbor; his house was a few houses away from ours. He used to sew clothes while sitting on the verandah of a cloth shop in the market. The time for tailoring shops to open had not yet come in Dharan. BKT, who was a little stout, had a friendly nature. According to the traditional belief that Magars are the maternal relatives of Thakuris, he would call my father maternal uncle. Chhabilal Lamsal was known as a labor leader and was my father’s close friend. Bhim Maskey’s house was right at Chhatra Chowk on Chatraline. Krishna Bhagat Shrestha and Chandra Bahadur Shrestha were both residents of Phusre. The Chinidevi from Purano Bazar, who always appeared well-dressed and made up, was a bit of a tough type, both in her speech and temperament.

There was a sense of brotherhood and behavior among the communists at that time. When they met on the road, they would say, “Aren’t these your parents and where are you going, kid?” They would show concern. ‘Nani’ was a gender-neutral term used by elders for both boys and girls at that time. Nowadays, especially in Kathmandu, it’s gender-specific and used only for girls, and a small boy is called ‘Babu.’ ‘Babu’ was a prefix placed before a name as a sign of respect, for example, Babu Rajendra Prasad (the first President of India). Many of my father’s comrade friends seemed kind-hearted to me too. The currently universal and emotionally detached relationship of “Uncle” had not yet entered our daily vocabulary. Depending on the person, I would use the kinship term ‘Kaka’ (paternal uncle) or ‘Thulo Ba’ (paternal uncle, older than father), whichever was appropriate, to address my father’s comrades. Or I would use the kinship term I was taught, for example, among my father’s close friends from Dhankuta, there were two Rajbhandari brothers. I would respectfully address the older one as “Tari Ba” (or Tarim Ba) and the younger one as “Chiri Ba” in the Newari language, as I was taught.

It was easy for me to use kinship terms from my mother’s side. I would call those who called my mother ‘Bhauju’ (sister-in-law) ‘Kaka,’ and those who called her ‘Didi’ (elder sister) ‘Mama.’ The brotherhood established in my father’s political circle had given birth to such close emotional relationships. They emphasized that they should help each other in times of hardship and that communists should be sacrificing and social workers. They also emphasized integrity equally. They held the belief that they should not gamble or drink alcohol. They practiced that belief as well.

According to the old communist leader Ramprasad Khanal, that was a time when every second house in Dharan was either a communist’s or a communist supporter’s. It was not without reason that the majority of votes in Dharan went to the communist candidate in the general election. The communists were determined on the slippery field of politics, saying that they would surely do well in the next general election. Looking at the party’s organization and the comrades’ enthusiasm, it did not seem impossible for their aspiration to be fulfilled. But that next general election did not happen.

Instead, a political earthquake, more severe than the one in 1934, shook the country. This was King Mahendra’s royal proclamation to dismiss the democratically elected government, which had been in power for just eighteen months. On the afternoon of December 15, 1961, a Dakota plane suddenly appeared, flying low over Dharan Bazaar. It circled a couple of times, scattering handbills before flying away. By chance, I was walking near Dharan Hospital on my way home and, like everyone else on the street, I ran to grab one. The leaflet, addressed “To the citizens,” announced that the king had taken control of the country’s governance.

After the king’s proclamation, a long period of uncertainty and fear began. In that period of bans, arrests, searches, detentions, and warrants, the leaders and workers of almost all parties scattered. The comrades were also targeted by the government. Some were caught, and some managed to escape. The address “Lal Salam Comrade” was no longer heard. Red flags with the sickle and hammer disappeared. The notice board with “Communist Party” written on it suddenly vanished. The books and magazines on communist theory my father read at our house were hidden in a neighbor’s house stuffed in sacks. My father himself went into hiding to avoid a potential arrest. There were many who crossed the border into India while escaping. Some remained in exile there for a long time.

Political parties were left in disarray by that unexpected political earthquake. By the time the commotion caused by that earthquake subsided and the dust settled, many things had changed. The king had issued a new constitution and implemented a party-less state system called the Panchayat, where political parties had no place. The Muluki Ain of Jung Bahadur’s time was replaced by a new Muluki Ain. It had abolished untouchability and the caste system. That’s why the Dalit community’s organizations started celebrating the first of Bhadra, the day the new Muluki Ain was issued, as Liberation Day. The land reform policy, which established a land ownership ceiling, was implemented. The East-West Highway was surveyed. The former municipality was made a nagarpanchayat, and its election was also held. Now, there was a new system where there would be a Pradhan Panch instead of a mayor and an Up-Pradhan Panch instead of a deputy mayor.

Within the outlawed political parties, there was a split over what to do now. One group was of the opinion that they should remain in exile in India and start a revolution against the king’s party-less and undemocratic system.

The other group was of the view that they should remain within Nepal and fight internally and for that, they should enter the Panchayat bodies and class organizations set up by the king and contest elections. This internal disagreement existed in both the outlawed Nepali Congress and Communist parties. But within the Nepali Congress, that disagreement remained limited to factional divisions, whereas the communists split into two factions while still outlawed. In the long run, they fragmented into many pieces.

The leaders and workers of the former political parties were scattered. Some were released after serving a short jail sentence, some were pardoned, some were still inside prison, some were in hiding, some had their warrants canceled, and some were still in exile in India. Many had submitted to the Panchayat system. Some were tempted by positions. Some had turned into government informants.

There were some who abandoned the bundle of party principles and joined the Panchayat system, believing the king was everything, and there were some who maintained their connection with their party secretly while participating in Panchayat elections. Kedarnath Khanal, the first mayor of Dharan municipality, left Dharan after getting the position of magistrate in Patan. Hiralal Bishwakarma, who would spew fire in his speeches, later became an assistant minister by embracing Panchayat politics. Bishnu Kumar Hamal (BKT) and Yagya Prasad Acharya were among those who completely abandoned communist principles and joined the Panchayat system. Yagya Prasad Acharya even became the central chairman of the Nepal Youth Organization.

Leaders like Govind Moktan, who were elected Pradhan Panch twice, fell into the second category; they remained members of the banned Communist Party. My father also became a central member of the Nepal Workers’ Organization. With the exception of a few individuals mentioned above, all the rest of the old communists remained communists throughout their lives.

Since the dawn of democracy, Dharan had been a fertile ground for the growth of communism, in other words, a communist hatchery. That’s why Dharan came to be known as a red fort or a red bastion. Who were the builders who laid the foundation of this strong fort in Dharan?

The Nepal Communist Party was established in 1949 in Calcutta (now Kolkata), and it can be assumed that a branch of that party was opened secretly in Dharan soon after or around 1950, although it cannot be said for sure. A few years ago, I learned from the old communist leader Ramprasad Khanal that regardless of whether it opened in 1950 or 1951, the initial committee had these seven people: Mahendra Mohan Shrestha, Ganesh Maskey, Gopal Shrestha, Bishnu Prasad Parajuli, Ishwar Man Bishwakarma, Gopal Chandra Singh Pradhan, and Yagya Prasad Acharya (a resident of Chungwang). Devraj Adhikari has also confirmed this in one place, citing Krishna Prasad Koirala of Bijayapur.

I was surprised to learn that Ishwar Man Bishwakarma, a close friend of my father, a gentle man whom I had never seen chanting slogans in a rally and who always sat at his furnace making ornaments, was one of the founding communists of Dharan. I was even more surprised to learn that Mahendra Mohan Shrestha was the founding secretary. Mahendra Mohan, a simple and gentle person, was one of the teachers who taught us at Dharan Public High School. The fact that he was an accomplished violin player was a hidden side of his personality. That side of his was revealed at a cultural program held on the high school grounds once.

I was stunned to hear him play the tune of the song “Lagi Chute Na Ab To Sanam, Chahe Jaye Jiya Teri Kasam” on the violin. The song from the Hindi film “Kali Topi Lal Rumal” had a special violin tune, and at that time, that song as well as the film was a big hit. Mahendra Mohan Sir played the music of that song on the violin exactly the same.

How could our Mahendra Mohan Sir, such a musician and a humble person, be a revolutionary who founded the Communist Party? It was hard to believe. It wasn’t even in my imagination that he was a communist revolutionary at one time. Because he seemed genuinely detached from and miles away from politics. But knowledgeable people say this is history. According to them, he had resigned from the Communist Party and completely left politics because of a disagreement over showing a black flag to King Tribhuvan when he visited Dharan in 1951. His view was that democracy was still young in the country. Opposing the king now would not be in the interest of democracy. After all, democracy came through the cooperation of the people and the king. But despite his disagreement, his party comrades showed a black flag to King Tribhuvan in Dharan.

Besides Mahendra Mohan Sir and Ishwarman Bishwakarma, the other five founders who planted the seed of communism in Dharan are completely unknown to me and are anonymous figures lost in the abyss of history. I had read somewhere that the role of coordinator in establishing the Communist Party in Dharan was played by D.P. Adhikari, whom I knew when he lived in Biratnagar. With the passage of time, that same Adhikari became a minister of the king during the Panchayat era.

Although the Indians had long ago translated “Communism” into ‘Samyavad’ and “Communist” into ‘Samyavadi’ in Hindi, making it easier for Nepalis, for some reason, its usage did not catch on much in Nepal, especially in terms of naming.

There are so many parties that claim to be followers of the Marxist philosophy. But none of them have named their party ‘Samyavadi’; they have kept it as ‘Communist Party.’ Everyone also calls a person a ‘Communist,’ rarely a ‘Samyavadi.’ Perhaps because there is still some support and trust left, the people are still voting in the name of the communists.

It is not without reason that those who have a communist image or have received their support have been winning elections, whether it was when the first municipality was formed in Dharan, when it became a nagarpanchayat, or after it became a municipality again. Behind this is the heat of the sacrifice and unwavering integrity of countless known and unknown old communists who were dedicated to high ideals. It is because of their selfless hard work and sacrifice that Dharan has been known as the red fort for so long.

Those who were like nameless, anonymous bricks and stones buried in the foundation of the house were the true workers and, in the real sense, communists who were struggling in a land called Dharan to build a golden future. Compared to them, the current crowd of sycophants who are running after royal luxury and the opulence of mansions are just trivial, misled, and greedy travelers. They are by no means communists.