KATHMANDU, April 25: The Bagmati riverbank at Thapathali, long lined with makeshift homes and blue tarpaulin roofs, now stands cleared—its narrow alleys emptied under the watch of a heavy security presence. But as the settlement disappears, a more complicated story has emerged: most of those evicted were not, in fact, landless.
Government data reveal that nearly 90 percent of the people living in the Thapathali squatter settlement own land elsewhere in the country. The finding has cast fresh light on the long-running debate over who qualifies as a genuine sukumbasi—and who does not.
The clearance followed a notice issued just two days earlier. By early morning, authorities had moved in. Prime Minister Balendra Shah, who is also overseeing the Home Ministry, had earlier instructed security agencies to vacate the area by Sunday, signalling a firm political push behind the operation.
A 2024 survey by the Kathmandu Valley Development Authority (KVDA) had identified 391 individuals living in the settlement. But when officials cross-checked citizenship records, a striking pattern emerged: the overwhelming majority had property registered in their names outside Kathmandu.
Applications of 1.2 million landless people collected
KVDA estimates that only about 5 to 7 percent of residents qualify as genuinely landless.
The data tell their own story. Some residents were found to hold substantial plots across multiple districts. One individual from Kavre reportedly owns nearly 13,000 square metres of land in Dhankuta and Makwanpur. Others possess holdings ranging from 20 ropanis to smaller but still significant parcels scattered across the country.
The list spans districts from Makwanpur and Lamjung to Nuwakot, Dhading, and Dolakha—suggesting that the settlement had evolved into more than a refuge for the destitute. For some, it appears to have been a strategic foothold in the capital.
This raises a broader question: how did a settlement originally associated with the urban poor become home to individuals with measurable land assets?
Legal provisions are clear. The Land Act 1964 and guidelines of the National Land Commission prohibit settlement along riverbanks, road rights-of-way, forest areas, and other high-risk zones. Such areas are deemed unsuitable for habitation, and occupants are meant to be relocated to safer locations.
At the same time, the law provides a safety net for the truly landless—allowing for free allocation of land up to 130 square metres in urban areas and between 340 and 3,000 square metres in rural regions.
Yet, as Thapathali shows, implementation remains fraught.
This is not the first attempt to address riverbank settlements. More than a decade ago, during Baburam Bhattarai’s premiership, the government tried relocating squatters to Ichangunarayan. Four apartment blocks, built at a cost of around Rs 140 million and capable of housing 233 families, were completed in 2016. But the effort stalled when residents refused to move.
The Thapathali eviction, therefore, is not just about clearing a settlement—it is about confronting a persistent policy dilemma. As Kathmandu continues to expand, pressures on land, housing, and governance intensify. Distinguishing between vulnerability and opportunism has become increasingly difficult.
For now, the riverbank is clear. But the deeper issue—who truly belongs in the category of sukumbasi, and how the state should respond—remains unresolved.
