By Dr. Janardan Subedi

There are moments in a nation’s history when politics stop resembling governance and instead read like a farcical script—an absurdist drama authored by a playwright fed up with logic and choosing satire over reason. Contemporary Nepal is living through exactly such a scene. The setting: a burning republic. The characters: a betrayed generation, an idealistic crusader, and a Prime Minister who shifts political allegiances faster than a lizard basking on a rainbow.

The first act opened with the Gen-Z uprising, a revolt not born from party headquarters but from the collective exhaustion of a generation forced to inherit decaying institutions, corrupt uncles of the state, and a constitutional arrangement that had begun to smell like expired yogurt. This uprising was not a protest; it was a rupture in the nation’s soul. Seventy-eight young Nepalis died. Hundreds were wounded. Government buildings were burned into black monuments of public fury.

The Oli government, brittle as dry bamboo, snapped under this pressure and collapsed with all the dignity of a tent in a windstorm. In the aftermath, the political establishment scrambled for someone—anyone—who could project an image of neutrality and adulthood.

That is how Madam Sushila Karki, retired Chief Justice, rose to the position of Prime Minister. Her appointment was more of a default than a deliberate choice—she was the least controversial figure among many ongoing disappointments. Gen-Z, grieving but hopeful, accepted her with cautious optimism. They believed that perhaps a former judge, someone who had once worn the robe of justice, might also deliver justice, honoring the sacrifices of the youth who bled for change.

But once she settled into Singha Durbar, Madam Karki discovered a convenient shield against every request, every plea, every expectation: “I have no mandate.” This repeated excuse reveals a systemic pattern of political deception, highlighting how leaders dismiss genuine demands to avoid accountability, which weakens the call for authentic activism.
“I have no mandate.”

She repeated it with the dedication of a monk reciting a daily mantra.
No obligation to meet Gen-Z demands.
No obligation to address police brutality.
No obligation to honor the sacrifices that paved her path to power.

And in that moment, an entire nation realized that it had not appointed a guardian of justice; it had appointed a political chameleon, a master of selective responsibility, and an expert in vanishing into administrative shadows whenever the light of accountability shone too brightly. This metaphor emphasizes the need for societal awareness and active resistance against superficial leadership that avoids proper accountability.

That is how Durga Prasai, driven by passion and sincerity, launched his own movement—27 demands, 27 declarations, 27 reasons to challenge a government that had already let down the youths who sacrificed for it. These demands serve as a call for real change, standing in contrast to superficial political gestures that often hide actual issues.

Predictably, Durga was arrested.
Just as predictably, he was released.
Nepal’s legal system deals with dissent the way a sleepy shopkeeper handles flies—swats, shrugs, repeats.

And then came the moment that would test the limits of irony: Madam Karki, who “had no mandate” to address Gen-Z demands, suddenly found that she did have the mandate to negotiate with Durga Prasai.

She met him, listened, nodded, and offered tea.
And this–this was the moment the country witnessed a new breed of political excitement-an illusion of action that masks the absence of genuine commitment to justice and accountability.

And this—this was the moment the country witnessed a new breed of political excitement.

The Comedy of Instant Experts

Minutes after the meeting between Durga and Madam Karki ended, an excited group of commentators—armed not with facts but with adrenaline—flooded social media and mainstream platforms as if they had personally rewritten the constitution.

“Historic day! The monarchy question is now officially on the Prime Minister’s table!”

The excitement was so immediate and breathless that it felt as if they were standing by their keyboards, wearing party hats and blowing digital trumpets. Some even declared that the nation had entered a new chapter—simply because a tea-time conversation had taken place in Singha Durbar.

When I read these sudden epiphanies, I’ll admit—I was entertained and genuinely entertained. It was like watching people cheer for a football game while the teams were still warming up. But beyond the amusement, I felt a sense of responsibility pulling at my rational side. I thought maybe someone should speak with a bit less enthusiasm and a little more intellectual clarity.

So, I decided to write—not to crush their joy but to remind them that hashtags don’t make history, negotiations aren’t agreements, and chameleons don’t suddenly grow crowns.

Meanwhile, as the celebratory chatter grew louder, Durga believed the negotiation was genuine. Poor man. He walked into the meeting room thinking he was entering a covenant of national transformation. But what he had actually entered was a political performance — one designed not to resolve conflict but to manage optics. Madam Karki used him as a temporary shield, a distraction from the generation she refused to acknowledge.

Because while Durga was being entertained with polite negotiations, Gen-Z was invited to meet the Prime Minister—officially, formally, with all the pretenses of respect.

They arrived. They waited. Then they were kicked out—told they were “not recognized.”

This is perhaps the most shocking betrayal in recent memory: the same youths who fought and sacrificed for her rise to power were discarded like uninvited guests at a private party. A government that once trembled before their uprising suddenly acted as if it had never met them, exposing the superficiality of political gestures over the absolute acknowledgment of society.

Durga, meanwhile, remained unaware of the manipulation around him. He believed he had become the agent of change. What he really was, however, was a pawn—used temporarily, placed strategically, and quietly cast aside when his usefulness ended.

This is where the truth becomes painfully apparent.

The Man Fooled by a Chameleon

Durga ji, let’s speak frankly.

You were fooled. Not subtly, not creatively, and not even with respectable sophistication.

You were fooled in broad daylight, in a room lit by chandeliers, with cameras outside, security guards watching, and the entire nation observing the farce unfold.

You believed the negotiation was genuine. But the woman across from you had already told the world that she had “no mandate” to act on anyone’s demands—including yours. The way her mandate appeared only for you, disappearing for Gen-Z, was not logical; it was just a theatrical performance.

Madam Karki does not plan to meet your 27 demands.
She does not plan to meet Gen-Z demands.
She does not plan to meet any demands.

Her only goal is to survive. Her only strategy is to stall. Her only ability is to blend in.

You mistake adaptability for sincerity, performance for governance, and chameleonic survival for leadership.

The Larger National Tragedy

Gen Z, the backbone of the original uprising, now watches from the streets with disillusioned eyes. They see a Prime Minister who rose from the ashes of their sacrifice but refuses even to acknowledge their existence. They see Durga, bewildered, slowly realizing he has been played. And they know the government retreats behind locked doors, smirking at how easily they can manipulate and discard those who once believed in them.

But the more profound tragedy—one older than any person—is this:

Nepal keeps trusting chameleons to build stability.
Nepal continues to mistake political drama for genuine political change.
Nepal keeps expecting redemption from those who have never delivered it.

Yet there is a quiet truth beneath all this absurdity, a truth that neither Madam Karki nor her chorus of instant experts can suppress:

The next true revolution won’t require appointments or invitations. It won’t negotiate in secret. It won’t tolerate deception disguised as diplomacy.

And when it comes—and come it will—it will not be led by chameleons, nor negotiated by the naïve.

It will be led by a generation that already understands the cost of sacrifice.
And has no patience left for political theatre.

The post Madam Chameleon and the man who wanted to believe appeared first on Peoples' Review.

By P Kharel

In his third prime ministerial term, Narendra Modi’s folly precipitates India’s isolation in South Asia, the world most-populous region and the fourth largest economy in the world GDP ranking list. However, all its six South Asian neighbors have distanced themselves farther than ever from New Delhi. This underscores Modi’s foreign policy failure. Even Rajiv Gandhi had not engaged in such folly in the latter half of the 1980s.

Bangladesh-Pakistan ties in the last 16 months have undergone sweeping changes that no one could logically have predicted in the previous 53 years since the erstwhile eastern wing of Pakistan became independent with New Delhi’s active support in 1971.

New Delhi must be recoiling with the series of steps that Dhaka has taken since the interim government was installed under the leadership of Nobel laureate Mohammed Yonus in the wake of mass demonstrations across the Muslim majority country with a population of 170 million.

DHAKA DISTANCE: The Yunus team has dramatically redirected Bangladesh’s foreign policy course and expanded strategic military ties with China and Pakistan much to India’s consternation. Dhaka’s military contacts with Islamabad were perfunctory at best before and during the 15 consecutive years of Hasina Wajed in power. The youth-led protest movement changed all that only six months after Wajed won a landslide majority in an election effectively boycotted by the main opposition parties and which only 40 per cent voter turnout.

Following a grim notice by the military that she had an hour to decide whether to remain in the capital and face the boiling wrath of protestors or leave the country for personal safety, Wajed contacted New Delhi and fled the country in a tearing hurry. She later complained of not having enough time for even packing her baggage, and did her shopping for clothing and other basic items as soon as she landed in India.

Ironically, the first time Modi was sworn in as prime minister at a sports stadium in Delhi 12 years ago in the presence of all SAARC leaders, he pledged a “neighborhood first” policy which was widely welcomed. SAARC leaders, attending the ceremony that marked BJP’s first majority government, were hopeful that a new beginning might unroll. But Modi’s vow ended in mere rhetoric.

Had he put his pledge to practice, the Bharatiya Janata Party leader might have emerged as a truly towering personality to reckon with among South Asians both in heart and mind—at least in most of the neighbors of this region of 1.8 billion population.

Twelve years later, India has frittered away an opportunity for credentials as the country’s tallest leader on the foreign policy front since its independence 1947, outshining even the first Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru not only in this region but also in the rest of the world’s estimation.   

FRESH MEMORY: Indian elites have begun accepting that if their government cannot forge amiable relationship with Nepal— “sharing bread and martial ties since time immemorial”—how can New Delhi hope to improve ties with others? India trained, equipped and financed Nepalese Maoist rebels for a decade in a civil war that claimed more than 17,000 lives and staggering setbacks to the economy of the one of the poorest nations.

In a cruelly blatant hypocrisy, New Delhi declared the Maoists a terrorist organization, though the latter’s supremo Pushpa Kamal Dahal alias Prachanda confessed during his first official visit to New Delhi as prime minister that he had spent eight years in India.

New Delhi clamped economic sanctions on Nepal at least four times since the 1960s. Memories are long. Most Nepalese term the 1950 treaty with India an unequal treaty, imposed during the dying months of the autocratic Rana rule. Trying to hold another country hostage does not pay off, except to extract under duress or extort something for immediate gain but at the cost of creating subtle enmity in the long run.  

Ties with Sri Lanka and the Maldives too are cool and only correct. Colombo has not forgotten the manner in which New Delhi propped up ethnic Tamils for three decades in civil war that claimed more than 60,000 lives and huge economic setback. President of the Maldives, Mohamed Muizzu, in office since November 2023, refuses to kowtow to New Delhi’s directives, unlike his predecessors. Indian tempers ran high and trade difficulties were created, though Muizzu stood his ground firm, with the Indian government now maintaining a strategic ceasefire.    

Bhutan signed a memorandum of understanding with China in 2023 after 25 years of Thimpu’s painstaking efforts and New Delhi’s persistent use of veto.  Although a very small step forward for landlocked Bhutan under the vice-like stranglehold of a 1949 treaty, updated in 2007, basically bequeathed by the British colonial rule, it is considered a feat.

AMERICAN VERDICT: The US intelligence, CIA, released a report last fortnight, with a verdict that Pakistan defeated India in the 12-day Pahalgam incident, which New Delhi had codenamed Operation Sindoor, in May. Deploying China-supplied J-35 fighters, Pakistan downed three to five counterpart Rafale fighter aircraft purchased from the French at four times the cost of the Chinese supply.  

In the 2017 military standoff with China in the Doklam border, too, New Delhi took a while for admitting the casualties its troops suffered at the hands of the Chinese. Although both have disengaged to normalcy, China continues to administer most of Doklam.

The geography of a country or region might not change but events and politics are ingredients that shape tectonic shifts in geopolitics. Not all is lost for India, with such high potential. It needs to summon the desire to shift gear for its interests also in deference to those of neighbors’.

The post What precipitates India’s isolation? appeared first on Peoples' Review.