KATHMANDU: The image of the teacher's body tied to a tree and riddled with bullets still haunts his son 14 years later. Communist militants allegedly dragged the Nepali man from the class he was teaching and then killed him for refusing to give part of his salary to fund their bloody rebellion.

Suman Adhikari has little hope he will get justice for his father's death — not with the same Maoist fighters-turned-politicians controlling the country's government.

Despite international pressure and government promises, including by the Communist Party of Nepal Maoist Centre (CPN MC) themselves, Adhikari and thousands of other conflict victims are still waiting for information about loved ones who were among the 17,000 killed or hundreds who disappeared during the decade-long insurgency demanding an end to the country's now-defunct monarchy.

"The Maoists want everyone to forgive and forget whatever happened during the conflict, but that is not acceptable to us," said 40-year-old Adhikari, who works for a Kathmandu-based charity that works with the deaf.

Earlier this month, Maoist leader Pushpa Kamal Dahal became Nepal's prime minister, leading the poor and politically fractious country's ninth coalition government in 10 years. His ascent to the top elected position completed the Maoist's political rehabilitation started in 2006 when they signed a UN-brokered peace accord to end their guerrilla campaign against authorities.

Meanwhile, Nepal is still beset by ethnic conflict and protests against its new constitution, and coping from widespread damage caused by earthquakes that killed thousands last year.

For victims of the old insurgency, the Maoists' rise was nothing to celebrate. Those hoping for resolution from a newly assembled Truth and Reconciliation Committee fear the Maoists will seek to sweep away post-conflict cases by delaying investigations, ignoring advice to prosecute or even legislating for a general amnesty that would absolve all crimes.

With the committee's mandate expiring in February next year, some of its 100 staff members admit they have neither the time nor the manpower to investigate the more than 53,000 complaints alleging human rights violations unless the government extends its mission. None of the cases have been resolved so far.

"We want to know why they were killed; they were unarmed and not part of the fighting," said Anita Jnawali, who said her father was a local politician in the western village of Kerunga when he was hacked to death inside his home for refusing to join the Maoists in their fight.

"We have almost lost hope," the 33-year-old drinking water consultant said. "The Maoists are always trying to suppress our cases, and now that they are in the government we are even more suspicious that they will bring new laws and make attempts to provide amnesty to their people."