A Wounded District: Bardiya’s Burden of the Past

Nestled along Nepal’s western plains bordering India, Bardiya District is a land of fertile soil, dense jungle, and a resilient people. But beneath its quiet fields lies a history of pain. During Nepal’s 1996–2006 internal armed conflict, Bardiya became one of the most severely affected districts in the country—particularly for the Tharu indigenous community, which makes up over 52% of the district’s population.

According to the Commission of Investigation on Enforced Disappeared Persons (CIEDP), Bardiya holds the highest recorded number of enforced disappearances in Nepal—239 cases. Over 70% of the disappeared were Tharu. A 2008 OHCHR report documented 156 of these cases and found that over 85% of the victims were Tharus, with state security forces responsible for at least 75% of the disappearances. Entire families were left in the dark as sons, daughters, fathers, and mothers vanished—never to return. (Source: Bardiya Tharus wait for justice – The Record)

The underlying reason? Many young Tharus joined or were suspected of supporting the Maoist rebels, who promised an end to systemic marginalization and feudal oppression. According to Bhagiram Chaudhary, president of the Conflict Victims’ Committee (CVC), “More than 80 percent of the Maoist combatants in Bardiya were Tharu youths. And the state began to treat all Tharus as Maoists.” (Source: Bardiya Tharus wait for justice – The Record)

The result was systemic violence, arbitrary arrests, torture, rape, and disappearances—targeted particularly at rural, indigenous populations. After the war ended in 2006, Bardiya was left with deep wounds and unanswered questions. It has since remained a symbol of both state neglect and grassroots resistance.

Bardiya today comprises eight municipalities: Gulariya (District HQ), Rajapur, Badhaiyatal, Barbardiya, Madhuwan, Thakurbaba, Geruwa, Bansgadhi.

Each of these municipalities has a local conflict victims’ committee, and together they form the backbone of the CVC’s district-wide operations—making Bardiya a unique pilot site for transitional justice implementation in Nepal.

Bridging the Void: Doing the Government’s Work

While Nepal’s transitional justice process has faltered, Bardiya’s victims—led by the CVC—have taken charge. Formed in 2006 by victims and for victims, the CVC is now the largest conflict victims’ organization in Bardiya, with networks across all municipalities.

In the vacuum left by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) and CIEDP—both of which were formed in 2015 and later dissolved without fulfilling their mandates—the CVC stepped in. It has visited every village in the district, collecting accurate, updated, and disaggregated data on survivors’ needs, from conflict-related sexual violence (CRSV) to livelihood challenges. This is not merely symbolic; this data has been handed to the government and has directly informed local reparation programs.

Recently, 20 conflict-affected families received monetary support—a collaboration between the CVC and local municipalities—demonstrating the power of community-led planning and delivery.

A Victim-Led Vision for Reparation

The CVC has developed a dynamic reparation framework that evolves in response to the changing needs of victims and their families. In the years immediately following the conflict, the primary concerns were, for example, scholarships for children. Today, as widows age and children reach adulthood, those needs have shifted. The current priorities include social security for the elderly, access to healthcare, skill training and employment opportunities for youth, and meaningful memorialization efforts.

The CVC is building a municipality-by-municipality needs assessment, with five local governments already formulating tailored reparation policies. Its long-term goal is to compare these models, creating a blueprint for a wider reparation strategy rooted in local realities.

Tackling Conflict-Related Sexual Violence: Quiet Power, Ethical Care

CRSV remains one of the least documented yet most traumatic legacies of Nepal’s war. In Bardiya, as elsewhere, women survivors face deep stigma, especially in rural communities. The CVC approaches CRSV with respect for agency and privacy. It does not pressure women to disclose their experiences but creates an environment where disclosure is safe and voluntary.

In 19 years of work, Chaudhary recalls only one woman who came forward to share her story—alongside her husband. “That tells you how difficult it is,” he says. “Sexual violence is not just a war-time issue—it’s embedded in our society.”

The CVC is approaching CRSV with deep sensitivity, recognizing the complexity and stigma survivors face, especially in rural areas. Their position is clear: survivors must have the freedom to choose whether to share their stories or not, and their privacy and security must be protected. The CVC believes that CRSV cases should be documented in history books—not to pressure survivors to speak, but to ensure that these violations are not erased. From a human rights perspective, they emphasize the need for social security guarantees so that survivors can feel safe, supported, and free from consequences if they choose to come forward. Even if survivors do not speak publicly, they must still be included in reparation processes.

This rights-based but trauma-informed approach reflects a rare combination of international human rights norms and local cultural sensitivity.

Justice as a Living Concept

When engaging with survivors, the CVC always begins with a fundamental question: “What does justice mean to you?” The responses are rarely focused on punishment. Instead, they often focus on:

• Truth: “We just want to know what happened.”
• Support: “We need health services and job opportunities.”
• Inclusion: “We want our pain to be acknowledged.”

In today’s Nepali society, there is no longer enmity between the political parties—the society has, in many ways, already healed at that level. But for families of the disappeared, true healing still depends on knowing what happened to their loved ones. At the personal level, the pain remains, and what they seek now is truth, recognition, and the dignity that has long been denied.

From Memory to Movement

The CVC is not only focused on the present. It is also shaping how Nepal remembers the war. A Peace Memorial Park is being planned in Bardiya to honor all the conflict victims including the disappeared. Statues will represent every missing person, and the park will serve as a public archive and community space. A bulletin is also being developed to share the stories of victims—not just for policymakers, but for future generations, so that the state’s silence is not the only version of history.

Conclusion: When the People Lead

Bardiya is more than a war-torn district. It is a laboratory of people-powered justice, and the CVC is its most vital institution. Through data collection, advocacy, reparation planning, and healing work, it has done what no government commission has achieved.

Nepal’s state institutions must learn from Bardiya: victims are not just stakeholders to be consulted—they are the authors of justice. And justice, in Nepal’s case, will not come from the center. It begins at the margins, where the pain was deepest, and where people like those in the CVC have never stopped fighting to be seen, heard, and remembered.

Our meeting with Bhagiram Chaudhary took place in Bardiya on July 16.