The news item tucked away inside a Nepali daily newspaper was indifferent and unmemorable: 'Suspected Maoist Rudra Chapagain, alias Ramesh, was shot dead by the security forces in Baneswor.'

But that death wiped out everything in the life of Chapagain's 25-year-old widow, Debi. With her husband gone, she lost not just her right to wear her wedding beads, glass bangles, tika and clothes in different shades of red but also her social status, economic security and legal protection.

Born into a bahun family from Bhojpur, she came to Kathmandu eight years ago to go to school. Here, she met a fellow villager, had an inter-caste marriage against her parents' wishes and had a son by him. He was a karate instructor who dreamt of launching a martial arts training institute in Kathmandu.

Dressed in a drab black and white salwar kamij, with no make-up on her face, Debi breaks down as she recalls the pain she has lived through in the last six months. "He had loaned three or four lakhs to various friends," she recalls. "When he left our rented apartment that morning, he said someone had promised to return the money owed him." That evening, she heard about his death on the eight o'clock tv news.

If he were a Maoist, she never knew about it.

Debi's parents reminded her that her misfortune was of her own making so she decided to turn to her husband's brothers, both assistant sub inspectors in the Nepal Police. Her oldest brother-in-law invited her to stay with his family but she had to leave within a fortnight as his wife made it clear that Debi was too attractive to be welcome in her house. She then went to stay with her second brother-in-law. Debi was just settling in with his family when he was killed in action three weeks later during a firefight with Maoists in Siraha.

With nowhere else to go, Debi and her six-year-old son now share an apartment with her brother's family. She can't go back to her husband's house in Bhojpur because local Maoist cadres have labelled her family "anti-people" and have padlocked their house. "I can't even turn to my in-laws because they themselves are living in a rented room in Itahari," she says.

Rights activists estimate that there are over 15,000 widows like Debi, each an individual tragedy and most being ostracised. A recent study by the group Women for Human Rights counted 7,000 widows in 100 VDCs of the 23 districts most affected by conflict. Of these, two-thirds were younger than 30, a third were illiterate and only two percent had college education.

Worldwide, men make up the bulk of the fighting forces of militias and armies but it is women who form the majority displaced by war. In the absence of men, women-headed households also carry the additional burden of taking care of families in conditions of extreme poverty and insecurity.

In Nepal, war widows have a double trauma of grief and social stigmatisation. Their presence in religious ceremonies is considered inauspicious, they are hounded out of their homes, denied access to land, property and children and their assets are often seized by those closest to them. As young women without protection, they are also targets of social isolation, economic discrimination, psychological trauma, sexual violence and crimes like trafficking and forced prostitution.

Despite ratifications to the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women, the consensus on the Beijing Platform for Action and governments' endorsement of the UN Security Council's Resolution 1325 on women, peace and security, conflict widows continue to suffer in the face of government inaction.

The Nepali state has acknowledged its responsibilities towards widows of conflict by making available a one-time compensation package ( Rs 750,000 for widows of members of security forces and up to Rs 200,000 for widows of civilians killed in conflict) and a monthly stipend of Rs 150. Both require women to register with their VDCs. But "Maoist" and "civilian" widows often don't have the knowledge and the wherewithal to access the compensation money. The monthly stipend is barely enough to feed a family for two days.

Nepali women, especially Hindu women, dress in shades (and combinations) of blue, yellow, black and white to indicate they have lost their husbands. Colour coding invites unwanted attention, discrimination, abuse, violence and isolation. Last year activists launched a movement to reclaim the colour red for these women. It has spread like wildfire from Dang to Ilam and is empowering women to think of their lives as meaningful and productive.

"What we really need, however, is a social security scheme for these young women," says Lily Thapa of Women for Human Rights. Other actions that would help: a safe place to recover from the wounds of war, skills training and job placement for self-sufficiency and policies supportive of widows.

Debi's name was changed on request.