Latest news with #Nepali-speaking
Time of India
2 days ago
- Politics
- Time of India
Ejected from US, rejected by Bhutan and Nepal: Himalayan refugees face statelessness
More than two dozen Bhutanese refugees who were forcibly deported from the United States this spring, in a move that stunned resettled communities across America, have found themselves in devastating legal limbo after Bhutan refused to accept them upon arrival. Instead of a homecoming, the deportees were rejected at the border, leaving them stateless and adrift—most now confined once again to refugee camps in Nepal . Nepal has said it cannot grant these refugees legal status and is in negotiations with the US government for a possible solution, but so far, no country has agreed to offer citizenship or permanent refuge. Explore courses from Top Institutes in Select a Course Category Public Policy Design Thinking Cybersecurity Artificial Intelligence MCA Degree Others Data Science healthcare Leadership CXO Finance Product Management Digital Marketing PGDM Operations Management others Management Data Analytics Data Science MBA Project Management Healthcare Technology Skills you'll gain: Economics for Public Policy Making Quantitative Techniques Public & Project Finance Law, Health & Urban Development Policy Duration: 12 Months IIM Kozhikode Professional Certificate Programme in Public Policy Management Starts on Mar 3, 2024 Get Details Skills you'll gain: Duration: 12 Months IIM Calcutta Executive Programme in Public Policy and Management Starts on undefined Get Details Who are the refugees? The affected are primarily Lhotshampa , a Nepali-speaking ethnic minority forcibly driven out of Bhutan in the 1990s. Over 100,000 were housed in sprawling camps in eastern Nepal, and beginning in 2007, many resettled in the US, Canada, Australia, and the UK as part of a UN-led solution. by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like Smart Indians use these 5 WhatsApp tricks google Learn More Undo Ramesh Sanyasi, 24 was born in the Beldangi refugee camp in Nepal and migrated legally to the United States at age 10, becoming part of Pennsylvania's vibrant Bhutanese resettled community. He worked at an Amazon warehouse, hoping to build a stable future. Everything changed after a night out with friends led to his arrest for unauthorized use of a motor vehicle and providing false identification, according to court records. After serving an eight-month sentence, he was abruptly deported in April 2025: first to New Delhi, and then flown to Paro, Bhutan. Live Events Upon arrival in Bhutan, Sanyasi and two others were not welcomed—they were instead transported to the border with India. Bhutanese authorities handed each of them 30,000 Indian rupees (about $350) and arranged for someone to ferry them to Panitanki, a town on the India-Nepal border. There, the deportees paid smugglers to secretly cross the Mechi River back into Nepal, returning to the very refugee camp Ramesh had left more than a decade earlier. 'Life here is tough. I'm living without any identification documents, which makes everything challenging. I can't even withdraw money sent by relatives because I lack proper ID,' he told CNN . 'For now, I'm surviving on money sent from the US, but once that runs out, I don't know what will happen.' Why were they deported? Most, like Sanyasi, were not undocumented but lost their visas due to criminal convictions—sometimes minor, sometimes more severe—under US law. Many completed their sentences before deportation, but once expelled, found themselves returned to countries that neither recognize their citizenship nor accept their return. At least 30 Bhutanese refugees have been deported by the US to Bhutan so far, all legally admitted to the US as children under a UN-led resettlement program. All deportees so far have been expelled again at the Bhutan border, given cash, and left to fend for themselves in India and, for most, eventually smuggled into Nepal. According to Gopal Krishna Siwakoti , president of the International Institute for Human Rights, Environment and Development, many deportees are in hiding; some in Nepal, some still lost in India. Four deportees have now been threatened with a second deportation—this time from Nepal, where they were arrested for illegally crossing the border. However, Nepal's Department of Immigration admits there is nowhere for them to go: 'We are in a dilemma: the US is unlikely to accept them back, and deporting them to Bhutan is not straightforward either,' said department director Tikaram Dhakal. Life in limbo: The camps of eastern Nepal For those who remain or have returned to the camps, mostly the elderly or infirm, conditions have evolved: electricity and running water are now present in places like Beldangi Camp, but the end of international aid has led to increased vulnerability, exploitation, and fear of detention. Informal work is the norm, but for many, legal protections are non-existent. Political stalemate Efforts for repatriation have repeatedly stalled. Neither Bhutan nor Nepal is party to the 1951 UN Refugee Convention , complicating formal policy frameworks. Bhutan continues to resist accepting its former citizens, and recent years have seen the exposure of a fraudulent refugee registration scandal, further eroding trust and muddying advocacy efforts. Diplomatic conversations have inched forward—Nepal announced renewed talks with Bhutan in 2023, but significant progress remains elusive. India, a key regional power, remains a reluctant participant in mediation, and international pressure on Bhutan has waned. Q. What allowed thousands of Bhutanese refugees to move to the United States? Most Bhutanese refugees moved to the US through a UNHCR and IOM-backed Third Country Resettlement Programme launched in 2007. The US first pledged to take up to 60,000 refugees from Nepali camps, later increasing to more than 80,000, the largest single-country intake. Resettlement was based on refugee status and need, not skills, and included other partner countries—over 100,000 Bhutanese were resettled globally by 2015. Q. What is the UN Refugee Convention, and why is it important? The 1951 UN Refugee Convention is a major international treaty that defines refugee rights and the duties of signatory nations. It guarantees non-refoulement (protection from forced return), and the rights to legal status, work, education, and due process. This Convention sets a standard for how refugees are to be protected and integrated by member countries, ensuring basic security and legal recognition. Q. How does Nepal and Bhutan not joining the Convention affect refugees? Because Nepal and Bhutan are not signatories, refugees there lack international legal protections—such as the right to residency, documents, protection from deportation, or legal employment. There's no obligation for local integration or citizenship, keeping refugees in prolonged limbo. Legal rights and policies are governed solely by domestic law, leaving refugees vulnerable to changing policies and without international recourse.
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First Post
3 days ago
- Politics
- First Post
Deported to nowhere: Bhutan rejects refugees US sent back, it's a story of Lhotshampas
More than two dozen refugees from Bhutan were left in a limbo after they were deported from the US to their home country, but the Himalayan nation rejected them, leaving them stuck in a refugee camp in Nepal. read more More than two dozen refugees from Bhutan were left in a limbo after they were deported from the US to their home country, but the Himalayan nation rejected them, leaving them stuck in a refugee camp in Nepal. According to a CNN report, refugees from Lhotshampa, a Nepali-speaking ethnic minority, were denied entry to Bhutan after they were deported from the United States. The ethnic minority group was expelled from Bhutan back in the 1990s. After spending decades in refugee camps, more than 100,000 of them were legally resettled in countries like the US, Australia, Canada and other nations. The process took place under a UN-led program that commenced back in 2007. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD Until very recently, the United States had not deported a single person to Bhutan in years. One of the main reasons behind this is the fact that the Bhutanese government have been unwilling to repatriate its refugees, who were stripped of their citizenship when they fled. This technically leaves them stateless. Deported to nowhere According to CNN, since March, more than two dozen Lhotshampa have been deported from the US back to Bhutan. However, the Himalayan nation is still refusing to take them in, and they had to settle in refugee camps set up in Nepal. Many deportees told CNN that they are now back in refugee camps where they lived as children. One of the deportees told the American news outlet that he was put on a one-way flight to New Delhi, India, then to Paro, Bhutan. When he arrived in Bhutan, the country's local authorities took him and two other refugees to the border with India. The deportee recalled that the Bhutanese authorities paid 'someone' to take the refugees to Panitanki, a town on the India-Nepal border, giving the deportees 30,000 Indian rupees (about $350) each. The refugee admitted that he and the others paid someone to smuggle them across the Mechi River into Nepal. Most of the refugees find themselves in a diplomatic grey zone, with no documentation for either the US, Bhutan or Nepal, where many are currently residing. While all this is taking place, four of the US deportees have now been ordered deported by a second country, after they were arrested and briefly detained by the Nepali government for illegally crossing the border. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD However, Tikaram Dhakal, the director of Nepal's Department of Immigration, told CNN that the country has nowhere to deport the refugees. 'We are in a dilemma: the US is unlikely to accept them back, and deporting them to Bhutan is not straightforward either," he told the American news outlet. Hence, these deportees are still stuck in Nepalese refugee camps with no country they can call their home. Bhutan's crackdown on ethnic minorities Bhutan, a small Buddhist kingdom, houses 800,000 people. While the country is known for peace and tranquillity, it has a dark history of crackdowns on ethnic minorities. In the late 1970s, the government of Bhutan began cracking down on ethnic Nepalis who had migrated to southern Bhutan in the 19th century by introducing discriminatory policies. In 1989, the government pushed its ambition to 'Bhutanise' the country by enforcing a dress code and outrightly banning the Nepali language. Anyone who resisted faced abuse, threats and coercion in the country. Adhering to international law, the US did not send someone to a country where they could be persecuted; in this case, it was Bhutan. However, the Trump administration's recent crackdown on immigration has led to the deportation of people to states with grave human rights records, such as Libya and South Sudan. Under pressure of tariffs, some countries are accepting deportees, but Bhutan has refused to receive Lhotshampa refugees. Interestingly, the Himalayan nation was initially included in a draft 'red' list prepared by US diplomatic and security officials of 11 countries whose citizens would be barred from entering the US. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD The draft was initially published in March by The New York Times. However, when the final list of 19 countries with full or partial travel bans was released in June, Bhutan was not included. Hence, it is still unclear where the Trump administration stands with Bhutan on the issue.
The Hindu
09-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Hindu
Author Prajwal Parajuly returns to campus life in Sri City
After being gone six long months, I am back in Sri City. I have come equipped with cheese that stank up every plane I was on, chocolate that smudged half my white shirts and a nine-kilogram poker kit that I joke is my first-born. It's been a good time away, but I have missed the students, the weather, and the mangoes. I have missed the marauding monkeys and the shuttle that conveys me to campus. I have not missed the department meetings because we continued having them online. I have missed the karaage that's not exactly a karaage at Asagao, my favourite Japanese restaurant here, and I have missed the karaage that's more like a karaage at the Zen Restaurant at Tokyo Ryokan, not my favourite Japanese place (but to admit which I feel guilty because the manager is a Nepali-speaking man from my neck of the woods). Out of a sense of loyalty to the Japanese establishments in Sri City, I ate ramen only once in New York. I am a good fanatic. One of the many charms of an association with a university that's just stepping into its sixth year is being part of creating something new. This, of course, involves hard work. My colleagues and I have been tasked with developing a Creative Writing minor. We just recruited poet Arundhathi Subramaniam and academic Kai Easton into the department. We are also in the process of getting someone to set up a Translation Studies programme. Literature at Krea has had quite a year. But not everything needs to be big or life-changing. There's also joy to be found in the smaller stuff. I, for example, am moving into a new office in a new building. For the most part, the Krea campus looks good. The trees that line the avenue that runs between the residential buildings provide a canopy that reduces the temperature by a few degrees. The stretch, besides being aesthetically pleasing, is so well shaded that my follically challenged self can abandon his hat around here even if the sun is beating down. The newer buildings — like the one that houses the library — are properly charming in their part-Bauhaus, part-international, part-WTH aesthetics. But the main building looks like it was transplanted from 1950s Vladivostok. On the third floor of this almost dichromatic structure, in a busy thoroughfare, was my office. The space was all right — it was a good size, and my classes were all close by — but it received no natural light. I was ready for a change. And nothing screamed change louder than the new light-and-air-filled academic building, christened — what else but — the New Academic Block. It is here, to Office Number 335, that I have just moved with the five books in my possession. The swivel chair is still sheathed in plastic. My new space has views of what I thought was the parking lot but will actually become a cricket field. It also looks out to a Mondelez factory, to spite which I shall give up sugar. 335 has a window that opens, unlike 333, which is massive but cursed with a window that doesn't open. There's a white board on which I have started making a list of column ideas. Below the desk is a cute steel trashcan with a green trash bag. I want to steal the trashcan for my kitchen. It is such a cheerful building, thrumming with life and colour and hope, as though students will metamorphose into Shakespeares and Picassos the minute they set foot here. The lounges belong in Riverdale. The chairs are the colour of M&Ms. There's even a rooftop terrace where I hope to jump-rope in between tutorials. Today marks a year of my having moved here, and seeing tangible positive changes on campus makes for a strangely satisfying experience. The culinary scene, too, has evolved while I was away. The Zen Restaurant at Tokyo Ryokan, which you will remember isn't even my favourite Japanese eatery, has added Korean cuisine to its repertoire. With that, it has hit the trifecta: Japanese, Indian and Korean. It is more vegetarian-friendly than my favourite Asagao, which means nothing to me but would matter to my family. The one time I convinced my parents to make a trip to South India, they stuck to Chennai. When asked if they would like to visit Sri City, they smiled. We understand silences and vapid smiles in the family, so I let the matter slide. I hope to host them soon on the outskirts of Sri City even if we need to negotiate the delicate situation with the two bathrooms whose shared wall only goes three-quarters of the way up. At least they can stuff their judgy faces with the Agedashi tofu, vegetarian fried rice and edamame at The Zen Restaurant at Tokyo Ryokan. Prajwal Parajuly is the author of The Gurkha's Daughter and Land Where I Flee. He loves idli, loathes naan, and is indifferent to coffee. He teaches Creative Writing at Krea University and oscillates between New York City and Sri City.
New York Times
01-05-2025
- Politics
- New York Times
‘We Have Not Heard From My Brother': The Missing Bhutanese Deportees
The news of deportations arrived as a trickle. A member of the Bhutanese community in Texas was taken away. Another picked up in Idaho. Then, one in Georgia. 'People started calling us in a panic to let us know ICE arrests have started,' said Robin Gurung, a community leader in Harrisburg, Pa., a major center of life for Bhutanese refugees in America. Given the limited information from immigration officials and a cultural reluctance within the Bhutanese community to discuss the loss of loved ones, Mr. Gurung could only estimate the number of people detained and deported from his area and the rest of the state. 'At least 12 from here,' he said during a recent interview at a dumpling house near the Pennsylvania State Capitol. He paused, emphasizing the uncertainty, before continuing. A dozen 'that we know of.' As the Trump administration accelerated its controversial deportation program, primarily targeting undocumented immigrants from Mexico and Central and South America, confusion became a common theme. What is happening in the community from Bhutan, a sliver of a country near India and Nepal, has a similar opaque uncertainty, and its own set of vexing circumstances. The Bhutanese who have been caught in this dragnet since March are not undocumented, but they all reportedly have criminal records with offenses that range from driving under the influence to felony assault. They are refugees who arrived legally in the United States through a humanitarian program initiated under former President George W. Bush. Beginning around 2007, the United States offered shelter to tens of thousands of mostly Nepali-speaking, Bhutanese Hindus who had fled ethnic cleansing in the kingdom of Bhutan, which is predominantly Buddhist. Information from the Department of Homeland Security and Immigration and Customs Enforcement about the recent deportations has been sparse. The lack of transparency has left community leaders, politicians and grieving families in Harrisburg and the surrounding Central Pennsylvania region — which has taken in some 40,000 Bhutanese refugees over two decades — grappling for answers and consumed by fear. 'The community was not prepared for this,' said Mr. Gurung, a co-executive director of the local nonprofit Asian Refugees United. 'We came though the formal refugee resettlement program, which means the U.S. government, they agreed to bring us to this country. The understanding was the government, they're not going to come after us.' Precise nationwide figures remain difficult to confirm because of the lack of information from the federal government. But it is believed that as many as 60 Bhutanese refugees have been detained in immigration facilities, and at least two dozen have been deported, initially to Bhutan. From there, the situation becomes even more opaque. Advocates argue that the deported men, many of whom had served probation or time in prison and had been permitted to remain in the United States on work permits, were denied a proper opportunity to appeal their deportation orders or argue against being sent back to a country they or their families fled in fear. These deportees are stateless. Although they resided legally in the United States, none had attained full citizenship. Bhutan does not recognize them as citizens, nor does Nepal, where many were born and raised in refugee camps. Upon arriving in Bhutan, they were quickly turned away. Advocates said they weren't surprised that the men were then sent 'ping-ponging' between India and Nepal. Many families in the United States report that their deported loved ones are either in hiding or in unknown locations. 'We have not heard from my brother,' said Devi Gurung, whose brother, Ashok Gurung, was deported. 'For all we know, he could be dead.' 'The United States is sending people to countries where they have no citizenship, no right to be,' said Craig Shagin, a lawyer in Harrisburg, who is representing a deportee named Indra. He asked that his client's surname name be withheld out of concerns for his safety. Mr. Shagin's client was convicted of driving while intoxicated on two occasions. The second conviction, in 2018, included a charge for evading the police. A judge deemed it a crime of moral turpitude, an offense that could make him subject to deportation. But Pennsylvania courts vacated and dismissed the evasion charge, Mr. Shagin said. He added that the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Third Circuit, covering Pennsylvania, has since ruled that evading arrest during a D.W.I. stop is not a deportable offense. Despite Mr. Shagin's efforts to meet his client in custody, immigration officials delayed the meeting a week, rejected an emergency stay and deported him. Most of the Bhutanese who immigrated to America are historically from the south of Bhutan, and have deeper ancestral ties to Nepal and India than to Bhutan's Buddhist majority. In the early 1990s, the Bhutanese government began a campaign to forge a single national identity. Many residents from the south were reclassified as illegal immigrants. Dress codes were enforced, and teaching Nepali in schools was banned. Facing violent crackdowns, over 100,000 people fled to refugee camps in Nepal. The international community eventually intervened. Starting in 2007, a majority resettled in Europe and in countries including Canada, Australia, and the United States. Pennsylvania, particularly the Harrisburg area with its rolling hills reminiscent of Bhutan, became a primary destination. Today, the Bhutanese community in the Harrisburg area is spread across neighborhoods and townships. South Asian groceries and spices fill strip mall shops. Incense fills a former cinder-block school repurposed as a Hindu temple. The aroma of curry and steamed dumplings draws people to Mom's Momo and Deli, a local favorite that features exhibits on life in refugee camps and Nepal. 'People came to Harrisburg because the land reminds them of home and for the support system created here,' Mr. Gurung said, picking at noodles in the restaurant. This system includes access to jobs in nursing homes and the region's numerous warehouses. 'Many residents found their way here even after starting lives elsewhere in America,' Mr. Gurung noted. At 36, he is one such example, having lived most of his life in a refugee camp before passing his citizenship test in San Francisco and living in Oakland, Calif., for years. Drawn by the growing community, he moved to Harrisburg in 2020, during the pandemic. The deportations had triggered a pervading fear, Mr. Gurung said. Even naturalized citizens worry the crackdown could extend to them. People now carry documentation everywhere to prove their identity and legal status. Many elderly Bhutanese are re-traumatized as their family members disappear, he said, their memories jolted back to the repression and disappearances in Bhutan. 'This is opening the old wounds again,' Mr. Gurung said. 'It is a form of widespread PTSD.' In this community, mention of President Trump elicits shudders, frowns or blank stares. Shop owners, cooks and students are hesitant to speak to reporters or provide their names, fearing repercussions should they appear in print. 'Anxiety is something you can feel everywhere now,' said one Bhutanese Uber driver, who asked for anonymity out of fear. Even though he's a U.S. citizen, his wife is afraid for him to leave home without proof that he belongs in the country, and insists he carry documentation. He is not alone. 'Will Trump come for people who have done nothing wrong, who are not green card holders but actual citizens?' the driver asked. 'Nobody seems to know what is happening.' The initial group of deportees was flown from the United States to India, landing briefly in New Delhi, according to Gopal Siwakoti, a human-rights activist in Kathmandu who is tracking the situation. Indian authorities then sent them to Bhutan. Mr. Siwakoti said that Bhutanese officials interrogated the men, confiscated their identifications, provided them with roughly $300 and arranged taxis to drive them out of Bhutan to the Indian border with Nepal. From there, at least four men took a smuggler's route into Nepal, where about 1,000 Bhutanese people still live in refugee camps. Mr. Siwakoti confirmed these four men were arrested in Nepal and remain there. Of the remaining deportees, most are in hiding, have limited contact with family or are unaccounted for. Mr. Shagin's client is now somewhere in India, according to the client's brother, who requested anonymity because of concerns for his safety. 'My brother has no family in India, no connections there,' the brother said. 'What will be his future? I worry about suicide.' The exact whereabouts of another deportee, Ashok Gurung, are also unknown, his sister, Devi Gurung, said in a recent interview. She has not heard from him since ICE agents arrested him one morning in March. 'For all I know, he might be dead,' Ms. Gurung said through an interpreter. She spoke openly about her brother's past, including his criminal history. Mr. Gurung was born and raised in Nepalese refugee camps before arriving in the United States. In 2013, while living in Georgia, he was involved in a fight where he cut a man with a knife. Georgia court records corroborate this account. A judge found him guilty of aggravated assault, and he served three years in prison. Since his release, Ms. Gurung said her brother had been living with her family in their small Harrisburg home, staying out of trouble and working at a local warehouse. Ms. Gurung and her husband are U.S. citizens and have a young daughter who was born in the United States. Yet, she said, their family now lives in fear. 'Bhutan kicked us out,' she said, recounting her family's journey. 'We lived over 20 years in Nepal. We couldn't belong there. We came to the United States with ultimate hope. Now there is fear again.' 'Where,' she wondered, 'do we belong?'
Business Mayor
21-04-2025
- Politics
- Business Mayor
Nepali-speaking Bhutanese refugees in limbo after deportation from US
W hen Narayan Kumar Subedi received a call from his daughter in the United States three weeks ago, he expected to hear news of his two children's life abroad, perhaps even plans for a long-awaited reunion. Instead, he was told his 36-year-old son Ashish, a Bhutanese refugee resettled in the US, was being deported. Ashish had been caught in a domestic dispute that led to police involvement. After several days in detention without proper legal support, he was caught up in Donald Trump's migration crackdown and deported to Bhutan. But what followed was a surreal sequence of events that left Ashish and nine other Bhutanese refugees stateless: abandoned by the country they once fled, expelled by the one they tried to call home, and detained by the one they sought refuge in. Narayan was one of 100,000 Nepali-speaking Bhutanese who fled the country in the early 1990s to escape persecution. Many saw emigration as the only hope for a future. Narayan's children were granted refugee status in the US, but Narayan himself was disqualified over paperwork errors and he still lives in the Beldangi refugee camp in eastern Nepal. Now, decades later, his son is back – but not welcomed by Bhutan, nor recognized in Nepal. According to Nepal's director general of immigration, Govinda Prasad Rijal, four of the 10 deported Bhutanese refugees, including Ashish, were taken into custody for entering Nepal illegally via India. 'They were taken from the refugee camp on 28 March because they had entered Nepal without valid visas,' he said. 'Since the matter is still under investigation, we have not decided whether they will be deported to India, returned to Bhutan, or what other action might be taken.' However, after the family filed a habeas corpus petition in Nepal's supreme court, the court issued an order to produce them before the court on 24 April and not to deport them until then. Ashish and nine others were first flown from the US to Delhi, where they were reportedly treated well and even put up in a hotel during transit. The following day, they were flown to Paro international airport in Bhutan. There, according to Ashish's father, the Bhutanese government welcomed them courteously but didn't allow them to stay long. After routine questioning, the group was handed 30,000 Indian rupees each and transported to the Indian border town of Phuentsholing. Within 24 hours, they were out of Bhutan again. 'The fact that Bhutan accepted them from the United States shows an acknowledgment of their citizenship. But deporting them to the Indian border within a day reveals a deceptive character,' said Dr Gopal Krishna Shiwakoti, former chair of the Asia Pacific Rights Network. 'It's strange in itself to send them to a country that had earlier refused to recognize them as its citizens, leading the US to resettle them in a third country.' From Phuentsholing, the group made its way to Nepal through Indian intermediaries. Later, Ashish and his friends Santosh Darji, Roshan Tamang and Ashok Gurung were detained by Nepalese authorities. 'I was shocked,' Narayan says. 'To be treated like a criminal in your own refugee camp, after all these years … it breaks you.' Nepal has no comprehensive legal framework addressing refugee protection or statelessness. That leaves people like Ashish in legal limbo – neither welcomed back by Bhutan nor recognized as refugees in Nepal. Tulsi Bhattarai, the immigration officer leading the investigation, confirmed that four of the 10 individuals are in custody. 'Their statements confirm they entered Nepal from Bhutan via India,' he said. 'We've collected documents from their time in the refugee camps and submitted a full report.' Activists argue the situation echoes the early days of the 1990s refugee crisis. 'We've come full circle,' says Shiwakoti. 'This is a 360-degree repeat of history. Nepal must urgently initiate diplomatic engagement with Bhutan to resolve this issue.' From 2007 to 2018, more than 113,000 Bhutanese refugees were resettled in third countries, mainly the US, according to the UNHCR. But around 6,500 still remain in camps in Nepal, caught in a state of indefinite limbo. Now, for deportees like Ashish, a new crisis is unfolding. International rights groups are raising alarm. In a joint statement, Bhutanese political and civil society leaders have appealed to the United Nations, the US and Indian embassies, and the government of Nepal for intervention. Their core demand is that the 10 deported individuals be recognized as Bhutanese nationals and protected under international refugee law. 'These people are not just numbers. They have histories, identities, and rights,' says Ram Karki, coordinator of the Global Campaign for the Release of Political Prisoners in Bhutan (GCRPPB). Back in Beldangi, Narayan waits. His son remains in custody, with uncertain future. 'I just want my son to be free,' he adds. 'We lost our country once. Must we lose it again?'
