Nepali security guard killed in Abu Dhabi shows risks faced by 'trapped' migrant workers

The wailing inside the Shrestha family home carries across the hillside.  

Inside a small mud-brick house, Pavitra Shrestha sits on the floor next to photographs of her son, Dibas. 

Relatives gather around her, murmuring prayers, trying to steady her breathing.

"They killed my precious son," she screams repeatedly.  

Just days earlier, Dibas had been working the night shift as a security guard at Abu Dhabi's Zayed International Airport.

Now his family is preparing the final rituals following his death from a war thousands of kilometres away.  

On March 1, an Iranian missile fired toward the United Arab Emirates was intercepted above Abu Dhabi. But debris from the interception fell near the airport, killing the 29-year-old.

For the Shrestha family, the news arrived slowly.  

"I saw news that three people had been killed: a Nepali, a Pakistani and a Bangladeshi," Dibas's father Cham Bahadur Shrestha recalled.  

"A photo of the Nepali victim was shown in the media, but it wasn't my son."

A short time later, officials confirmed that it was.

"Later, we received his body," Dibas's father said.  

Trapped in war

Borlang village sits deep in the rugged hills of Nepal's Gorkha district.

Terraced fields and scattered houses cling to narrow ridges, but farming can rarely support a family.  

In Nepal, where job opportunities are limited and wages are low, working abroad has become a lifeline for millions of families.

Remittances account for more than a quarter of the country's economy.

Young men leave villages like Borlang to work on construction sites in Qatar, drive taxis in Dubai or guard offices in Abu Dhabi.

Dibas followed a similar path.

After finishing school in his village, he briefly studied and worked in Kathmandu. But the salary wasn't enough.  

"He felt that the salary was low in Nepal and the expenses were high," his father said.  

"So he decided to go abroad for a few years."

In Abu Dhabi, Dibas was able to help in ways that had been difficult at home. His father, a retired police officer, receives a pension of about $200 a month. 

When Dibas's sister gave birth, he sent money to support the family.

Across the six countries of the Gulf Cooperation Council — Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Qatar, Kuwait, Bahrain and Oman — migrant workers form the backbone of oil and gas-rich economies.

The region's population is roughly 60 million people. More than half are migrants, with Indians making up 10 million people across the Gulf states.

Millions more arrive from Bangladesh, Pakistan and Nepal.

They often work in essential jobs that keep cities running: building skyscrapers, cleaning offices, delivering food and guarding airports.

But these workers also occupy the most vulnerable positions in society.

Usman Jawed, a researcher on migrant labour, says that vulnerability becomes especially visible during crises.

"If you have rocket exploding overhead and debris falls, and you're living in accommodation that is not as well protected then you are more at risk."

'Please rescue us'

Since the United States and Israel launched strikes against Iran two weeks ago, killing supreme leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, Iran has fired hundreds of missiles and drones toward targets across the Gulf.

While officials say the intended targets have been American military bases and infrastructure, civilians have also been killed.

Iran has continued launching missile and drone strikes across the Gulf in retaliation, targeting energy facilities, airports and commercial vessels.

Data compiled by the ABC shows at least 15 civilians have been killed across Gulf countries since the conflict began, in every state except Kuwait.

Twelve of the victims were South Asian nationals — including five Indians, four Bangladeshis, two Pakistanis and one Nepali — working as drivers, labourers, cleaners and sailors.

For many Gulf residents, life has continued largely as normal despite the attacks. But for migrant workers, the sense of insecurity is growing.

And many have found themselves trapped.  

Thousands of South Asian workers are also employed in shipping across the Middle East.  

Some are now stranded near active conflict zones.

On a vessel anchored at Iran's port of Bandar Abbas, a group of Indian seafarers recently filmed a video message asking for help.

"Continuous bombing is taking place," one crew member said.  

"Our company is not listening to us. Please rescue us."

According to the Forward Seamen's Union of India, roughly 23,000 Indian seafarers are currently working across waters affected by the conflict.

Manoj Yadav, the union's general secretary, says many ships cannot easily leave their positions.

For governments in South Asia, evacuating citizens is proving complicated.

The conflict escalated unexpectedly, leaving little time for evacuation planning.

Airspace closures and rising flight costs have also made it difficult for workers to leave.

Even if the fighting spreads, many migrants have little choice but to stay.  

In India alone, remittances from overseas workers exceed $100 billion a year — a significant share of it coming from the Gulf.

Those payments support entire local economies, says Usman Jawed.

And despite the conflict, people are still applying for visas.  

'I have no words'

In Borlang, the war feels impossibly distant.

The village is quiet except for the sounds of chickens and children playing on paths.  

But inside the Shrestha household, the future the family imagined has suddenly disappeared.

Dibas had planned to work abroad for several years before returning home. He wanted to save enough money to start a small business.

His relatives had begun discussing his marriage.

"He used to tell me when I'll come back, get married, and enjoy life," his aunt Sita Shreshta said.

"There may be a war between countries, but an innocent person has lost his life."

His father says the loss of his only son has left him struggling to imagine what comes next.

"Nobody would face that pain that I'm feeling now," he said.  

"I have no words."