Rabi Lamichhane’s Message from Prison on Raswapa Foundation Day

The National Independent Party (Rastriya Swatantra Party – Raswapa) marked its third anniversary and entered its fourth year without the presence of its chairman, Rabi Lamichhane. Despite being imprisoned over allegations of embezzlement related to cooperative savings, official records at the Election Commission still list Lamichhane as the party chairman.

From behind bars, Lamichhane claimed that the conspiracy against him has not yet ended. He stated that, under this criminal siege, he now has no place to seek justice except through the people’s court. Furthermore, he accused those in power of turning not only him but the entire country into a prison.

“The conspiracies against me are far from over. Over the past 36 years since 1990, these forces have captured the executive, legislative, and judicial branches, as the world now witnesses. Under this criminal blockade, I have no place to seek justice except in the people’s court. The state belongs to them, their hubs and courts, and even the media is theirs. Every organ and structure of the state is their recruitment center,” Lamichhane said.

He further added,

“They have caused me much suffering repeatedly. But looking back at the 36 years of hardship they have inflicted on the country and its people, my personal suffering is nothing. Why should I grieve just because they have imprisoned me when they have already turned the whole country into a prison?”

Regarding the cooperative savings embezzlement case, Lamichhane denied any involvement.

“I am not a member of any cooperative. Not a single penny has come into my account from any cooperative. I am neither a member, shareholder, borrower, nor employee of any cooperative,” he clarified.

Full message from Rabi Lamichhane on Raswapa’s Anniversary:

Dear mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters,
Greetings. Jai Ghanti.

As our party marks its third anniversary, I send this heartfelt appeal from cell number 9725 at Bhairahawa Prison. I trust it will find its way to you one way or another.

You elected me to Parliament not once but twice, with record-breaking votes. You gave nearly 1.2 million votes to a newly born party — the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP). Those votes shook the status quo, and by-elections in Chitwan and Tanahun left the political establishment even more rattled. When they realized they couldn’t defeat us through fair political competition, and their haven of corruption was at risk, they resorted to conspiracies against me.

You’ve seen with your own eyes how those conspiracies unfolded, who was involved, and how state resources were misused. It was horrifying.

You know me. I am someone who cannot remain silent in the face of injustice. I’ve even made a world record for speaking out. But this time, the web of conspiracies was so deep that I couldn’t even speak in my own defense. My legal team warned me repeatedly: “You are up against the largest criminal syndicate in the country. Even one emotional statement could be twisted to trap you in more legal troubles.” With cases filed in four districts, four high courts, and even the Supreme Court — now including Parsa District — I had no choice but to remain silent.

That silence hurt me more than anyone else. I had made up my mind to speak, no matter the consequences. On Chaitra 18, I publicly declared from the party office that I would speak in Chitwan on Chaitra 23. Coincidentally — or not — just a day before, on Chaitra 22, the High Court ordered my detention. Now, even the Supreme Court has been dragged into it.

But the conspiracies haven’t stopped. Over the past 36 years, the ruling elite have taken control of the executive, legislative, and judiciary. The world can now see this reality. In this criminal blockade, I have no other option but to turn to the court of the people. The state is theirs. The offices, courts, and media are all in their control. All government institutions are their recruitment centers.

Sometimes, I feel like I’ve suffered a lot. But then I realize — compared to the pain and injustice they’ve inflicted on the nation for the last 36 years — my suffering is nothing. Why should I complain about being jailed, when they have turned the entire country into a prison?

A Personal Reflection from Behind Bars

From this prison cell, I’m reflecting on my life — and I want to share that with you, not as a leader, but as a son, a brother, and an ordinary citizen.

I never thought I’d enter politics. I began my career in media during my student days. I became a minor celebrity on TV and FM radio. I moved to the U.S. hoping for a better life. I never had political ambitions. Even in America, I stayed involved with the Nepali community.

But my heart was never truly at peace. Though I lived abroad for 14 years, I always wanted to return home. I thought of setting a world record for the longest-running television talk show. I could’ve done it in the U.S., but something inside me said: “If not for your country, what else would you return for?” So I came back and registered my name in the Guinness Book of World Records from Nepal.

With experience in media and entertainment, I chose to return to journalism — but I wanted to do something impactful and meaningful. At the time, I believed in prime ministers. I saw a communication gap between the people and the government. So, I called then-PM KP Oli, reminded him of a brief interview we had done in New York, and asked for 30 minutes to discuss a few ideas — with zero personal gain. He agreed. That’s how the “Sidha Kura PM Sanga” program began.

Why I Gave Up Everything to Serve the People

Later, KP Oli said he gave me a job — but let me be clear: I never took a single penny from Oli, CPN-UML, or Nepal Television for that show. What I gained was knowledge — how ministers and bureaucrats think, and how they neglect the people.

That’s when I realized — talking directly to the rulers wouldn’t change anything. We needed to talk directly to the people. That’s how “Sidha Kura Janata Sanga” was born.

During “Sidha Kura PM Sanga,” I used to visit AC rooms of ministers and secretaries. I wasn’t angry then. I was still unaware of the real pain of the people. But after “Sidha Kura Janata Sanga” began, I came face-to-face with the truth of this nation.

I heard the cries of a young boy whose mother, Laxmi Pariyar, was forced to eat human waste over accusations of witchcraft. I visited Radha Chaudhary, brutally beaten by her entire village. I received live pleas for help from Kavita Tamang, who had been sold to the Gulf and was facing sexual abuse. I talked live to a girl in Iraq who witnessed her friend being raped in the next room.

I didn’t stay in the studio. I flew from Abu Dhabi to Gorkha seeking justice for Ashtami Gurung, who committed suicide after sexual harassment. I reported on predatory moneylenders like Shyam Pardeshi, who forced villagers to send young girls to spend nights with him in exchange for debt forgiveness.

My Journalism Was Never Soft — Because the Truth Was Brutal

My journalism focused on broken systems, bribes, discrimination, and violence. I didn’t come to read news after fancy dinners — I came after listening to the wails of the oppressed. That’s why my voice was loud. I was devastated by the decay of the nation. I gave up everything and decided to fight for truth, even if it meant risking my life.

While hundreds were paying over Rs. 14 million to human smugglers to enter the U.S., I returned my U.S. passport with honor and paid the U.S. embassy Rs. 350,000 to do so.

Back then, I received dozens of calls every day from desperate Nepalis in Nepal and abroad. I was working at News24 with limited resources and couldn’t address all the issues. While exploring options, I was approached by the owners of Himalaya and AP1 TV. But then former DIG Chhabilal Joshi introduced me to G.B. Rai, who was starting a quality television network. We signed an agreement — he’d handle finances, and I’d handle content. That’s how Galaxy 4K TV was born.

Let me be very clear — I had no previous relationship with G.B. Rai or his businesses, associates, or family. I joined only based on professional terms.

Dear Brothers and Friends,

From hosting a single program on News24 to leading an entire station at Galaxy Television, my journey in the media world saw remarkable growth. I moved from a small studio to a grand one. Our network of journalists expanded, and the screen became even brighter. Yet, one truth became increasingly clear to me: no matter how powerful the media is, in a country ruled by the irresponsible, we can only shout—but real change is almost impossible.

In this country, shouting, reasoning, or showing the suffering of citizens to those in power brings no real change. Even during my time in journalism, I took the initiative to build settlements for 52 Musahar families in Saptari and helped construct a well-equipped 15-bed hospital in remote Kalikot. I helped rescue many stranded Nepalis abroad and delivered oxygen and food to the poor during the COVID-19 pandemic. While I could have taken pride in these efforts, when viewed in the larger context of our country’s systemic problems, they felt like just a few drops pulled from a toxic ocean.

If real change is to happen, we must uproot the system’s deep-rooted dysfunction. That’s why I returned the free shares I received and stepped down from Galaxy Television. I left journalism to step into politics.

But how should I enter politics? I had two choices—either join an established party and try to reform it from within, or create a new party to challenge the status quo. After much deliberation, I concluded that forming a new party was the better path. That decision was no easy one.

I knocked on many doors, requesting respected figures—people admired by the nation and desired by society—to lead the new party I envisioned. I offered to support them while they led. But most declined.

From Dr. Sanduk Ruit to Kulman Ghising, from Rajesh Hamal to Anil Keshari Shah—I earnestly requested several admired personalities to lead this initiative. When no one accepted, I took the responsibility myself and registered the party.

Even after forming the party, I approached many others to take leadership or at least contest elections—but most said no, wasting my campaign time.

Still, the people made Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) the fourth-largest party in the country. We received nearly 11% of proportional representation votes. Some say, “What has the new party achieved?” Maybe not all expectations were met, but let me ask: Did Rabi Lamichhane, as party president, sell those votes to businessmen or mafias like traditional politicians?

Proportional representation votes were once seen as commodities, sold by party leaders to benefit relatives, cronies, or business interests. But did RSP do that? No. Just like in direct elections, RSP chose the most committed and representative candidates for proportional seats.

Would any traditional party have ever elected Bindabasini Kansakar, a survivor of an acid attack, to Parliament? Would a returnee like Sumana Shrestha ever fit in their party? When would people like Manish Jha and Santosh Pariyar get a turn in old-party politics? When the economy was crumbling, would they ever recognize global economists like Dr. Swarnim Wagle or gynecologists like Dr. Chanda Karki?

Would they ever field fresh young leaders like Toshima Karki and Sobita Gautam in direct elections? Or offer tickets to competent individuals like Hari Dhakal? Would capable youth like Biraj Bhakta Shrestha and Shishir Khanal ever be made ministers?

With full respect for the current constitution and democratic norms, we formed a new party to correct the deep-rooted malpractices inside old political parties. Today, it’s impossible to imagine the House of Representatives without RSP. But why do our scholars and political analysts struggle to acknowledge the hard work and integrity of our new generation of leaders?

Rabi Lamichhane could write long articles and do deep political analysis if he wanted. But I’ve already seen the impact of such discussions—I don’t want to analyze the illness anymore. I want to destroy it. Appealing or pleading with the enablers of corruption won’t fix the country. We must challenge and confront them directly. I’m now paying the price for doing so—but I have no regrets.

Some friends ask, “Why did you enter government?” I respond: Was the nearly 1.2 million votes we received meant for filing petitions in Parliament, or for making an impact? I had already pleaded enough from television. I asked for votes so I could intervene from within the system. And I did.

Let me speak clearly: I brought Bechan Jha from the shadows into the spotlight. The repercussions were so strong, they changed the entire political landscape. Overnight, Congress and UML joined forces. Some say, “Why did you, as Home Minister, turn your eyes toward Baluwatar and Budhanilkantha?” I wasn’t targeting individuals. I was trying to uphold the rule of law.

When I said, “Cut off the thief’s foot,” I didn’t mean literally—but ask yourselves, who felt the pain? As Home Minister, I didn’t care about individuals, only about the legal process. That remains my guiding principle.

As for fear—I was never afraid of these people, and I never will be. They might try to bury Bechan Jha’s case now, but I will reopen it with the support of the people. Justice will be served.

Not Just the Home Ministry—Not a Single Ministry We Handled Faced a Scandal

Be it Sumana Shrestha, DP Aryal, Shishir Khanal, or Biraj Bhakta Shrestha—none of our ministers brought shame to the mandate given by the people. Every minister left a positive impression in their respective ministries. Is there any other political party in Nepal that has returned from power without facing allegations of nepotism, favoritism, or corruption?

Some critics label me as someone obsessed with power. To them, I say this: I, Rabi Lamichhane, rejected the offer to become Prime Minister. We didn’t form our party to grab the top post—we declined it. Had I said yes to the opportunity, who could have stopped me? The top leadership of the Nepali Congress waited past midnight for my signature to nominate me as Prime Minister—but I refused. The very next day, they started calling me a cooperative fraudster. My question is this: A person who rejected the Prime Minister’s seat and is now in jail—is he power-hungry or a political rebel?

After the by-election results, major political parties, especially Nepali Congress, were scared of us. The results proved that public awareness had evolved. When I was reappointed Deputy Prime Minister and Home Minister on March 6, 2024 (Falgun 23, 2080 BS), the then-opposition Nepali Congress demanded a parliamentary committee to investigate cooperative savings misuse, explicitly mentioning my name. Despite resistance from the then-Prime Ministers Pushpa Kamal Dahal (Prachanda) and KP Sharma Oli, I personally encouraged the ruling alliance to approve the probe. And on May 28, 2024 (Jestha 15, 2081 BS), the committee was formed—not in my name, but under “Gorkha Media.”

Dear Parents and Citizens,

Let me now explain how political revenge was carried out against me and how the law was misused.

1. The parliamentary investigation committee’s report (page 449) clearly states: “Though there is no documentary evidence of Rabi Lamichhane’s involvement in bringing cooperative funds into Gorkha Media Network, his involvement is seen in the utilization of funds after their arrival.” Another point reads: “As a partner in the company during the period when cooperative funds were received, he is responsible and should be prosecuted under prevailing laws.”

This makes three things clear:

• Yes, cooperative funds came to Gorkha Media.
• No evidence was found that I was involved in bringing the funds.
• Responsibility is attributed only if I was involved in spending the funds.

The applicable law for company fund management is the Companies Act, 2063. But the government used the Cooperative Act—which doesn’t even apply—to falsely accuse me. Isn’t that pure political revenge?

2. Since 1997, there have been 15 parliamentary special investigation committees. Of the 14 others, their reports stayed in the archives. But for the first time in history, the report against me was approved by the Cabinet on September 16, 2024 (Bhadra 31, 2081 BS) and forwarded for action—only against me.
3. Once the report was out, the state began executing a pre-planned drama. A district judge on leave was summoned to issue my arrest warrant on November 17, 2024 (Kartik 2, 2081 BS). According to law, charges must be filed within 35 days—but that didn’t happen. Later, they labeled me a “criminal mastermind” and detained me for 60 days. As the 60-day limit approached, they slapped a money laundering charge to keep me for 90 more days and suspend my MP status.
4. A person in police custody in Pokhara was taken to Kathmandu for a statement, and then to Chitwan the next day. My blood pressure spiked from stress and exhaustion. In Chitwan, I resumed my statement with medication, despite poor health. Around 11 p.m., SP Gautam Mishra said, “There’s an order to move you.” This order came from then–Police Chief Basanta Bahadur Kunwar, who in turn followed orders from political superiors. Despite being too weak to stand, I was forced into a vehicle at midnight.

I previously stated that officers sent to forcibly remove me appeared intoxicated. I asked for a medical test and to inform my family—they refused. I was denied the right to inform my lawyer. Taken away on a midnight ride through Trishuli highway, I had no idea where I was being taken. Was it to Pokhara—or was it something worse? That night broke me mentally.

5. While detained in Kaski, I was taken to Kathmandu, Rupandehi, and Parsa—all for “investigations.” One allegation—cooperative fund misuse. But the charges kept changing: cooperative fraud, general fraud, organized crime, and even money laundering. My wife Nikita and I were both charged under the Money Laundering Act, despite only having around 700,000 NPR in the bank and all ancestral properties declared. The public must know—Rabi Lamichhane became the first person in Nepal to face money laundering charges from a cooperative case at the district police level.
6. What about leaders from Nepali Congress and UML who ran cooperatives? Congress MP Maya Rai (former deputy secretary of Swarnalaxmi Cooperative) was called “absconding” while attending parliament. She was arrested only after public outrage, released on 1 million bail within days. Congress Vice President Dhanraj Gurung faced mild questioning. UML leader Rishikesh Pokhrel’s wife Anjala was released on the day of her court appearance. No appeals were filed against their bail—but everything was weaponized against me.
7. According to the Cooperative Act, charges must be filed within 90 days. A complaint was reportedly lodged against me on February 4, 2024 (Magh 22, 2080 BS). The case should have been filed by May 23, 2024 (Jestha 10, 2081 BS). Instead, I was arrested on November 17, held for 84 days, and only then was a case filed on December 22, 2024 (Poush 7). This violated both civil and criminal legal principles and ignored the specific time limitations of the Cooperative Act. They instead used general law (Section 249 of the Penal Code 2074), which contradicts legal hierarchy and principles of jurisdiction and limitation.
8. On April 4, 2025 (Chaitra 22), the High Court of Tulsipur (Butwal bench) decided to send me to jail. Within minutes, police stormed into my bedroom and asked me my “last wish.” They didn’t even have a proper arrest warrant—one was hand-written on the spot. Arrest papers from different units gave different reasons: enforcement of court order, investigation necessity, and custody requirements. Three versions of the same arrest.

I wasn’t produced before Rupandehi District Court until April 7. Until then, my detention was illegal. But in a country where a corrupt syndicate controls everything, what meaning does a citizen’s fundamental rights hold? In a state where every institution has become a recruitment center for one group, how can we believe in justice?

Respected Mothers, Fathers, Brothers, and Sisters,

False accusations have been brought against me, using someone else’s petition as a pretext. Ironically, even the petitioners have publicly clarified, “We never requested for Rabi Lamichhane to be arrested. His name isn’t even in our petition.” When those very petitioners state that the police misused their savings recovery request to target me, should the judiciary turn a blind eye to such manipulation? If someone publicly states they don’t want me imprisoned and yet I am jailed because of that same petition, isn’t this jungle law rather than the rule of law?

During my tenure at Galaxy Television, the investment made by Jeevi Rai was transparently disclosed in the company’s audit report, stating it came from land sales in Hetauda. When such financial sources are clearly mentioned in audit reports, does anyone go around scrutinizing a business partner’s assets in Nepal? The law doesn’t require it, nor does anyone have the authority to do so. Chhabilal Joshi, one of the stakeholders, left for the U.S. within one and a half months of the channel’s launch. Jeevi Rai, who claimed ownership of companies in seven countries, was rarely even present in Nepal.

Despite that, the work couldn’t stop, salaries couldn’t be withheld, and operations had to continue. I had signed the agreement to launch the TV within seven months. I remained actively involved in the field. Accountants used to request me to sign checks for operational continuity. At that time, the country was battling the second wave of COVID-19. Jeevi controlled the finances, bore the liabilities, and even appointed the accountant. Until that point, no one had raised questions about his financial dealings.

There was a written agreement that I, Rabi Lamichhane, would not hold any financial responsibility in the company. When the main investor insists on disbursing checks, what moral authority would I have to deny signing them? How could I have predicted that some of those checks would later be weaponized against me?

Three years later, after examining a truckload of documents, it came to light that the money deposited into my personal account had originally come from a cooperative into Jeevi’s account and then into mine as per our agreement. How could I have known the complete origin of funds deposited into Jeevi’s personal account? Is it even humanly possible to track every financial movement of someone else’s personal account?

Some opportunists, shouting in parliament while holding blank sheets of paper, claimed they had evidence that Rabi Lamichhane defrauded billions from cooperatives. But what have they actually produced? After months of searching, have they found a single cooperative where I requested a loan? Have they found a single document bearing my signature? Was I ever an official, member, or employee of any cooperative? Can someone defraud a cooperative without even being associated with it?

And yet, in a country where actual cooperative officials are released on bail of two to four lakh rupees, I, who have never been formally linked to any cooperative, am facing relentless persecution. Does the law even exist in this nation? Where is the rule of law and justice?

I no longer hold any illusions about the state possessing moral integrity. I am not under pressure to protect anyone’s reputation. This is not democracy. This is a criminal syndicate built over the past 36 years by a handful of powerful leaders. They have embedded their loyalists into every branch of the state and transformed even constitutional bodies into extensions of their will. Read former Chief Justice Sushila Karki’s book “Nyaya” to understand the condition of Nepal’s judiciary. These leaders open and close the doors to judicial appointments at their convenience. If they don’t want a judge appointed, they simply stall the parliamentary hearings.

So tell me, how can a judge—who isn’t even politically affiliated—sacrifice their career to serve justice to someone like me? The higher the court, the greater the political pressure. Every judge operates under two looming threats: the Judicial Council and Parliamentary Hearing Committee. Sitting inside this prison cell, I often wonder—was it wrong of me to expect justice from a judiciary that itself survives under so much influence and intimidation?

Respected Parents, Brothers, and Sisters,

Why is there always suspicious behavior in courtrooms before judgments are issued against me? Why are verdicts leaked to select media outlets before official release? Why do final rulings, after full-day hearings, arrive in just 5-7 pages? Why does a habeas corpus petition, which must be resolved within 24 hours, get dragged out for over a month in my case?

In my case, decisions appeared on the court website, then suddenly vanished and were altered. How could police in Kathmandu arrive at my bedside in minutes of a ruling issued from Bhairahawa? Why would officers prepare legal paperwork on my bed even before the official procedures were completed? Why would they ask, “Do you have any last wishes?” I am stunned—not for myself, but for the fate of this country.

Why did the court staff run to the media immediately after reading the verdict to my wife Nikita, who had every right to hear it first as the petitioner? Is this justice?

My goal in life is no longer personal liberation, but the liberation of this entire nation from the grip of this criminal syndicate led by a few political elites. People mocked me for once saying, “We must break the backbone of this system.” But I repeat it today from this prison: We must completely restructure this state.

What I face is not justice under democracy but a political conspiracy by the likes of KP Oli, Gagan Thapa, and their legal lackeys. The rule of law was already killed by these people long ago. They have turned every constitutional body into a sharpened weapon.

Except for a handful of leaders, no one is safe in this syndicate. I will continue to fight for justice within the system, but I have little hope. That said, I still have not given up faith in the judiciary. Eventually, the courts will see the injustice done to me.

And until that day, I commit to fighting in the biggest courtroom in the world—the People’s Court. From today, I officially register my case in the court of public opinion. If you believe I am the target of political vengeance, please lend your support and sign in solidarity.

“The accusations against me are not based on any cooperative, but on company-related transactions—bank account operations, cheque signatures, and share ownership—all belong to companies, not cooperatives,” said Rabi Lamichhane in a powerful statement from behind bars.

He emphasized that a special investigative report titled “Cooperative Fund Misuse Investigation 2081” itself clearly states that he had no role in securing loans from any cooperative. “Despite this, I am being targeted in multiple courts across the country purely out of political revenge,” he claimed.

Lamichhane further alleged that all cases against him were registered only after Ramesh Lekhak assumed office as Home Minister. “The complaints were fabricated by coercing individuals with fear, greed, or false promises. People were even handpicked to file these cases against me,” he added.

“If someone wanted to file a case against them (his opponents), they could choose from a long list of crimes—as if they were contestants on a game show. Just one case could land them in jail for life and their illegally amassed property would go to the state treasury,” he said, criticizing the double standard of justice.

“Ironically, in the same Supreme Cooperative case for which I am imprisoned, other officials and employees have been released on bail—Dipesh Pun (former secretary) was released on NPR 400,000 bail, Bhawishwar Aryal (IT head) on NPR 1.84 million, branch manager Durga Pandey Chapagain on NPR 1.8 million, and other employees on even smaller amounts,” he said.

He pointed out the irony that all those directly involved in the cooperative were granted bail, while he—who had no direct role—remains behind bars. “Is this what justice looks like in Nepal?” he questioned.

Lamichhane alleged that the real mastermind, Jivi Rai, initially faced only fraud charges, but was later accused of organized crime and money laundering just to drag him (Lamichhane) into the scandal.

“They’ve already made legal maneuvers to block any settlement or resolution—because they want to deny Jivi Rai the chance to explain or return funds. I want to promise all depositors from my prison cell: the door to your savings will soon be broken open by me,” he vowed.

“One day, these political actors will have to pay the price for the injustice they’ve done to thousands of innocent depositors just to frame me.”

“This is not just about me. What they have done to me is nothing compared to how they have devastated Nepal’s economy and politics,” Lamichhane added.

“Politics has become a mafia-run business. Leaders have become puppets and agents of criminal networks. If my assets can be investigated, then so should theirs. Most of them would land in jail.”

“They have already captured all constitutional bodies—courts, anti-corruption commissions, election commissions—using the Constitutional and Judicial Councils as their tools.”

“They have sold the future of not just this generation but the next as well. Institutions like Nepal Rastra Bank, Insurance Board, and Securities Board have been handed over to brokers.”

“I may or may not survive this, but I have a few firm resolutions. The current constitution that supports corruption and political crime must not be amended—it must be rewritten.”

“All high-ranking officials’ assets must be investigated. Cabinet decisions since 1990 should be reviewed. Nepal must move to a directly elected executive system to end parliamentary instability.”

“Provincial assemblies should be dissolved. The National Assembly should be made up of scholars, not defeated politicians and their relatives. All constitutional bodies must be restructured. University campuses must be cleared of party banners. Student and sister organizations should be dismantled.”

“We need to clean up politics, launch economic reforms, and focus on youth employment, investment, and entrepreneurship.”

“Whether through the streets or the ballot, Nepal must prepare for a peaceful revolution.”

“Those who sold the country under Mahakali and other treaties walk freely in Singha Durbar. No case is filed against them. Those who traded citizens under fake Bhutanese refugee or visa scams recite poetry in Parliament. They have no fear of investigation.”

“Land-grabbers of Lalita Niwas and Giribandhu Tea Estate are giving lectures on ‘Happy Nepali.’ They fear no law.”

“And me? I, Rabi Lamichhane, who returned from America with a dream to work for my country, am labeled the biggest criminal and locked inside a jail.”

“Everyone seems to have made a vow to sacrifice me—some to save their politics, some to protect their government, and some to reach the top.”

“How many times must one man be slaughtered to fulfill everyone’s wishes? All that remains of me is bones, skin, and a handful of life. All I have left now is the truth.”

“They say the judiciary’s credibility depends on imprisoning me. But everything is now under public scrutiny—media, courts, all must answer to the people’s court eventually.”

“One day, the truth will be revealed.”

Dear Mothers and Fathers, Brothers and Sisters,

For 36 years, their misrule has torn apart families, divided communities, and pushed the nation into turmoil. The tears shed by the people under their tyranny have now transformed into a river of resistance. These criminals are not afraid of Rabi Lamichhane—they are afraid of their own crimes. They fear the love and support you all have shown for Rabi Lamichhane. They now realize: either Rabi Lamichhane will be in prison, or they will. Either conspiracy will win and I will rot in jail, or your love will triumph and they will pay for their 36 years of crimes.

I, Rabi Lamichhane, am ready for any kind of trial. Be it my father, my elder brother, my sister-in-law, or younger brother—I repeat loud and clear: I am prepared to face any challenge. Even if I am killed in this prison cell, I have full faith that this country will not rest until those 36 years of wrongdoings are accounted for.

Those who filed complaints against me have slowly begun to speak the truth. To the rest, I make a sincere appeal: look your own parents in the eyes, face your own children, and ask yourself—did you file complaints against me because I cheated you? Did you deposit money in cooperative schemes simply because Rabi Lamichhane was associated with them? I do not know how many of you believe in sin or virtue. But even those who reject religion know when they’ve done wrong. Whatever greed, pressure, or motive made you speak against me, ask your heart—did Rabi Lamichhane truly deceive you?

To those reading this, I kindly ask you to read this message aloud to parents and elders who may not be able to read: Your Rabi Lamichhane is not afraid of prison walls. He is not panicking, and he has not lost courage. Even from behind bars, I hold the moral strength and bravery to shake the conscience of these traitors.

Let the people’s court decide: Have I committed an organized crime, or is this an organized political attack against me, misusing the power of the state? If my words from this dark cell hurt anyone, then I ask—how much more cruelty is left to inflict upon me? I call upon the people to support the petition campaign against this political vendetta. These handcuffs placed on me are merely seeds—soon they will sprout, grow, and bloom.

Those criminals who have turned this heaven-like nation into hell cannot hide behind conspiracies for long. Even if I am killed, the people will snatch the expensive watches from their hands—gifts from smugglers—and place handcuffs on them. That day is not far away.

Having said all this, I know I will now be made to pay an even heavier price—but I do not care. I am ready.

Thank you. Jai Ghanti!
Ashar 2082, Bhairahawa Prison

(This appeal was prepared and released by Rabi Lamichhane’s Secretariat.)