Long before the end of December, a snapshot of a highly exclusive Christmas tree went viral in Nepal. Not for its festive cheer, but for the exhibitionist exposure of the lavish lifestyle of corrupt politicians and their children.
The word ‘nepo baby’ is borrowed from gossip stories about Bollywood and Hollywood, accusing celebrity children of getting movie roles because of their last name rather than their talent. But recently, this already pejorative nickname has taken on a sharper, political edge. It migrated from Instagram and TikTok into the vernacular of Kathmandu’s streets. Elitist sons and daughters of politicians and bureaucrats, showing off their wealth, unwillingly sparked the country’s frustration with inequality and corruption.
The Nepali youths posting this stuff drew inspiration from Indonesia, where young people began exposing the extravagant lifestyles of ministers’ children. On various social media platforms, including TikTok, Instagram, Reddit, and X, posts under hashtags such as #Nepobabies have garnered millions of views. They feature affluent youngsters driving luxury cars, dressed in designer brands, dining abroad, or posing in exotic locations, often juxtaposed with images of ordinary Nepalis struggling with floods, power outages, and soaring food prices.
A Symbol of Access
One infamous example is Saugat Thapa, son of Law Minister Bindu Kumar Thapa. His Christmas tree, built entirely from Louis Vuitton bags and Gucci boxes, topped with designer sneakers, instantly became a symbol of excess. His father has a political and business background that has often drawn controversy. Serving as Law Minister, while also being the founder of the Ansuvara Group with interests in real estate and other sectors, he faced questions over whether his public office served the people or his business interests.
Shrinkhala Khatiwada is the daughter of an ex-Health Minister, who became Miss Nepal, turned influencer, and started a glossy, globe-trotting Instagram feed, which amassed a large following until she suddenly became a target. She lost many fans, and her family home was torched during the riots.
Singer Shivana Shrestha, connected to the Deuba family, wasn’t spared either. Her videos, filmed in lavish homes dripping with expensive fashion, were widely shared as proof that political families live in a different universe.
Power Tends to Circulate
The eruption in September 2025 was fueled by anger at people who flaunted wealth that many believe is built on corruption. Social media amplified their resentment, and for many, the government’s crackdown on digital interaction felt like an attempt to silence criticism.
In a country where unemployment hovers around 20% and tens of thousands leave each year for menial jobs abroad, such displays hit a nerve. These were kids the same age as the protestors, but instead of worrying about rent or tuition fees, they posted from private villas or international shopping trips. Their wealth was not earned; it was inherited. In a nation surviving on remittances and modest incomes, such images felt like more than vanity. They felt like theft.
For the protestors, the nepo babies are proof that effort and talent are not enough to make a decent income. Opportunities are often reserved for the elite, contracts are awarded through connections, and power tends to circulate within the same dynasties. Seeing a twenty-year-old daily revving a foreign sports car through the narrow streets of Kathmandu is a reminder that the system is rotten.
Profound Tragedy
It’s unfair to paint every politician’s child with the same brush. Some may work hard, while others may dedicate themselves to public service. But nuance rarely survives in the public imagination. What people see is the expensive imported car, the careless display of luxury. What they feel is the gap between that world and their own. And what they conclude is that the system does not reward honesty or effort, but only bloodlines.
This is a profound tragedy. Nepal’s recent history, from the end of the monarchy to the promise of a new constitution, was supposed to deliver inclusion and fairness. Yet for many young people, little has changed. Jobs remain scarce, infrastructure is weak, the cost of living continues to rise, and opportunities appear to be shrinking. Into this void, images of inherited privilege rub salt in a wound.
The protests were about a generation that feels excluded from the nation’s future, a generation disillusioned by broken promises and shrinking horizons. The nepo baby is simply the most visible symbol of that disillusionment.
Inequality has long existed in Nepal, but social media platforms like Instagram have made it impossible to ignore. Luxury is no longer hidden behind high walls; it is displayed, filtered, hashtagged, and broadcast to every phone. The same platforms the government tried to suppress are the ones that exposed this privilege most vividly.
This story, in the end, is not about a few rich teenagers showing off. It is about a generation’s demand for fairness and the anger that grows when merit is overshadowed by class.
Pratikshya Bhatta is a junior Editor at Nepal Connect.
