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At 4 o'clock in the afternoon, 600 Maoist soldiers are massed in an empty field at the Shaktikhor cantonment. In the searing heat and humid air, few are able to give their full attention to the pronouncements being delivered by the division vice commander from the stage.
Some of the soldiers even look bored . After two years in the cantonment they are still waiting. Between the lines of soldiers, a toddler in squeaky shoes races up and down. A fallen tree trunk near the stage is teeming with children playing on it.
After the peace agreement was signed and the PLA housed in cantonments two years ago, many children ended up moving into camp with their ex-guerrilla parents. In the Chitwan cantonment alone there are about 300 children under the age of 10.
While these children have not been mentioned specifically in the peace accord, their welfare has been a matter of concern, especially because of disrupted domestic lives, exposure to military activities and likelihood of being recruited.
"These are unnecessary fears. We have no plans to recruit these children and we have not allowed them to participate in any military training," says Sanjib, vice commander of the third division. The soldiers also don't wish to see their children with guns in their hands. They say the reason they fought the war was to give them opportunities in life.
As there is no education here, the Maoists have set aside part of their food allowance to pay fees in private schools at Jutpani Chok. But there is never enough money. Bishnu, who has four children living at the cantonment, says "I don't think the party has enough funds, and I certainly don't, so what can I do?" He has not received his allowance for 10 months.
Some children are eager to go back home to their extended families. Others from poor families are glad to have shelter, free food and healthcare in the cantonment. Ten-year-old Arnish tells us life in the camp is strict. He had just been told off by one of the soldiers for climbing a tree. With more than 6,000 soldiers at Shaktikhor, there are more than enough adults to keep an eye on them.
They often play hide-and-seek, and sometimes pretend to be soldiers and play with toy guns. Their classmates at school are afraid of them and refuse to play together. "Maybe we really are different from the others," says nine year-old Dipesh.
A helicopter passes overhead and the children leap to their feet shouting "UN! UN!". For the most part they are well-informed about the political situation in the country, and can reel off names of political leaders and closely followed election results.
But no one know how much longer they will be here. Dipak, 10, who listened attentively to the commander\'s message, says he will stay till "Naya Nepal" is set up.