Despite the US’s ongoing “Operation Epic Fury” against Iran and its earlier kidnapping of Venezuelan leader Maduro, which have crippled the international order, preparations are underway for President Trump’s scheduled trip to China from 31 March to 2 April, 2026.
Trump last visited China in November 2017 during his first term. That visit was hailed as a success, and according to the White House, it laid the foundation for “<a href="https://trumpwhitehouse.archives.gov/briefings-statements/president-donald-j-trumps-state-visit-china/" target="_blank">productive engagement</a>” with China. Trump was honoured with special treatment no other US president ever received—a tea reception hosted by Chinese leader Xi Jinping inside the Forbidden City. Trump earlier welcomed Xi to his Mar-a-Lago estate in Florida in April 2017.&nbsp;
But the honeymoon did not last long. The Trump administration initiated a trade war on 6 July, 2018, by imposing 25 per cent tariffs on Chinese imports. Spiraling tensions became the dominant feature of US–China relations during the remainder of Trump’s first term and throughout the Biden administration.
The US–China relationship was off to a promising start after Trump won the November 2024 election. He frequently touted his good relationship with Xi, whom he invited to his <a href="https://www.cbsnews.com/news/trump-invites-china-xi-jinping-inauguration/" target="_blank">inauguration</a>. Xi sent Vice President Han Zheng to Washington, the highest level of Chinese presence on such occasions.
Trump seems to be his own ‘China desk officer’ now who favours a softer approach in his second term. The latest <a href="https://www.whitehouse.gov/wp-content/uploads/2025/12/2025-National-Security-Strategy.pdf" target="_blank">National Security Strategy</a> and <a href="https://media.defense.gov/2026/Jan/23/2003864773/-1/-1/0/2026-NATIONAL-DEFENSE-STRATEGY.PDF" target="_blank">National Defence Strategy</a> are both modest on China, avoiding calling China America’s ‘pacing threat’.&nbsp;
Trump’s current cabinet members are also less hawkish toward China. Notably, Secretary of State Marco Rubio has shown remarkable pragmatism, arguing for <a href="https://www.youtube.com/shorts/q4gK1BrT9Wk" target="_blank">engagement</a> and dialogue with China, different from his hardline stance as a senator.
Yet on 2 April, 2025, Trump imposed sweeping Liberation Day tariffs on virtually all US trading partners, and China topped the list with accumulated tariffs as high as 145 per cent. A defiant China hit back hard with its own 125 per cent tariffs on US goods. Beijing also swiftly imposed export restrictions on rare earths and paused the import of US soybeans, hurting the US economy and farmers who tend to be Trump supporters.
After several rounds of negotiations, the two countries reached a so-called tariff ‘truce’. When meeting with Xi in Busan, South Korea on 30 October, 2025, Trump called China “the <a href="https://www.fmprc.gov.cn/eng/xw/zyxw/202510/t20251030_11743886.html" target="_blank">biggest partner</a> of the US” and claimed that the two countries always had “<a href="https://www.fmprc.gov.cn/eng/xw/zyxw/202510/t20251030_11743886.html" target="_blank">a fantastic relationship</a>.” It was there that Trump reaffirmed his plan to visit China in spring 2026.
Many people wonder what kind of deal Trump is seeking with China. Some have speculated that perhaps he will <a href="https://thehill.com/opinion/national-security/5518004-trump-may-be-abandoning-taiwan-to-chinas-tender-mercies/" target="_blank">sacrifice Taiwan</a> in return for China’s increased purchase of US products. The Trump administration recently withheld a <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2026/02/27/us/politics/trump-taiwan-arms-sale.html" target="_blank">weapons sale</a> to Taiwan valued at $13 billion, but this is a tactical adjustment to avoid derailing Trump’s Beijing trip. The sale will undoubtedly proceed after Trump returns from China. The United States is unlikely to please Beijing by ditching Taipei due to Taiwan’s strategic and economic values.
With many thorny issues such as Taiwan and the international order and structural conflicts associated with global power transition, the United States and China need to lower expectations about Trump’s trip and be realistic, aiming for several concrete deliverables.
First, extend the current tariff truce. Since the visit will be trade-focused, the two leaders should not impose any new tariffs until they find a better way to fix trade-related problems. As China continues to purchase more from the United States, Washington should cut tariffs and ease export controls for China while China should respond reciprocally. The encouraging news for Washington is that the US goods trade <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2026/02/19/business/economy/imports-tariffs-trade-deficit.html" target="_blank">deficit with China</a> shrank to $202 billion in 2025, the lowest in more than two decades. China is apparently willing and able to purchase more from the United States, including oil and Boeing aircraft, if the political atmosphere is right.
Second, reopen consulates in Houston and Chengdu simultaneously. The US decision to close China’s consulate in Houston in July 2020, giving Chinese diplomats only <a href="https://www.reuters.com/article/world/us-gives-china-72-hours-to-shut-houston-consulate-trump-says-other-closures--idUSKCN24N0UZ/" target="_blank">72 hours</a> to vacate, was made rashly, leading to China’s retaliation by closing the US consulate in Chengdu, escalating bilateral tensions. Houston and Chengdu represent the heartland of each country. The reopening of the two diplomatic posts will not only substantially expand trade and other exchanges between the two heartland regions but also signal to the world that the two countries are willing to engage rationally and peacefully despite differences.
Third, promote tourism and educational exchanges. Tourism and people-to-people exchanges could serve as a buffer against political and diplomatic tensions. China can consider 30-day visa-free for American visitors since it has granted citizens of dozens of countries this policy, including <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c875d3d3x34o" target="_blank">Canada and the United Kingdom</a> following their leaders’ recent visits to China. To welcome more Americans to China and make visiting China easier, it is fitting for Beijing to announce the 30-day visa-free policy for Americans when Trump is in town. Meanwhile, the United States can encourage more Americans to travel to and <a href="https://www.insidehighered.com/opinion/views/2024/03/08/us-should-encourage-americans-study-china-opinion" target="_blank">study in China</a>. Such measures would help generate goodwill between Americans and Chinese.
The US–China relationship faces daunting challenges. Both Trump and Xi view summit meetings as crucial in arresting the deterioration of bilateral relations, and both want this visit to be a success.
The two sides will have to agree to disagree on highly controversial issues, including Taiwan and the global order. Instead, they should focus on areas where their interests align, such as keeping a strong trading relationship and advancing people-to-people exchanges. A relationship bound by close trade ties and robust societal exchanges is unlikely to end in war. One visit will not solve all the problems between the two rivaling powers, but a pragmatic approach that helps stabilize the relationship serves the interests of both countries.
Zhiqun Zhu is Professor of Political Science and International Relations and Director of the China Institute at Bucknell University, USA. A member of the National Committee on US–China Relations, he has written extensively on Chinese foreign policy and US–China relations.&nbsp;

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Opinion

Trump’s China Trip: Aiming for Deliverables

Nepal’s new political wave has been described in many ways: a generational shift, a technocratic shift, a shift in ideas, and a shift in political behaviour. Young leaders now sit in Parliament, many with international education and policy experience.
But amid this excitement, a quieter truth risks getting lost: this political transformation is also the ascent of people who, until recently, were the grassroots themselves.
For the first time, many of the people now sitting in government are not distant elites. They are people I have marched with, argued with, worked with, and been inspired by for more than a decade.
They are people who once stood ankle‑deep in floodwaters, not in front of press conferences. As optimism rises around the new government, we must not forget that the climate crisis has not slowed down. 
The monsoon is at our doorstep again. And if the disasters from previous years taught us anything, it is that climate impacts do not wait for political transitions. And our mountains and rivers do not care who sits in Singha Darbar.
What is different this time is who holds power.
During the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/flood-of-despair" target="_blank">September 2024 floods in Kathmandu</a>, the first responders were not the state or development machinery. It was ordinary young people. A loosely formed WhatsApp network coordinated everything from dispatching mountain bikers to landslide‑stranded areas, to pooling relief supplies, to delivering materials to army bases for airlifting. These were citizens acting out of necessity, not mandate.
Many from that very network are now part of the government. As I have argued before in Nepali Times, top‑down climate responses in Nepal have always been too little, too late, and too disconnected from lived experience. The only proven path is bottom‑up, community-led adaptation where those who face the risks daily shape the solutions. 
International research backs this: community-based adaptation has been central to success stories from Bangladesh’s cyclone shelters to Vietnam’s mangrove restoration to the Philippines’ barangay disaster committees. The world has repeatedly learned that resilience grows from the ground up, not the top down.
RARE MOMENT
Nepal now has a rare political moment where people with lived experience of crisis sit in positions of authority. The real test is whether this lived experience becomes policy and immediate action.
The expectation should not be that these new leaders deliver because of their degrees. It should be because they remember where they come from and use their privilege to strengthen and fund local institutions, networks and people who kept this country functioning long before governments did.
The monsoon that starts in June will test the government’s commitment to governing from the bottom up. Will these new leaders govern the way they once volunteered — listening first, acting fast, improvising where needed, and involving those closest to the danger? Or will the weight of the state push them back toward the familiar comfort of top‑down plans and consultant reports?
The challenges are complex. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/a-pre-monsoon-deja-vu" target="_blank">Climate change is driving displacement</a>, deepening poverty, and exacerbating gendered vulnerabilities. Climate adaptation, therefore, needs cross-sectoral solutions that understand how these issues intersect.
Long-term transformation is essential. Our major cities like Kathmandu desperately need a future where rivers are protected instead of mined, where an urban forest cools our heat‑trapping city, and where mobility focuses on sustainability, not just shiny EVs. Our mountain villages and terai lowlands deserve a community resilient to climate impacts, with livelihoods protected.
These require years of work. But immediate, life-saving measures cannot wait.
Will the government finally rein in the sand mining and quarrying upstream of the Rosi and Nakkhu Khola? Will someone sit down with the communities on the riverbanks and listen to the early warning signs they’ve learned through pain? Will climate adaptation be prioritised amidst political noise and competing crises?
Or will we find ourselves, yet again, mourning damage that could have been prevented? I have been inspired by many of the individuals now in government — they questioned old hierarchies, challenged worn‑out norms, and believed that things could be done differently. 
But while the faces in Parliament have changed, the bureaucracy has not. Development organisations and civil society groups have not. And those systems are slow: too slow for the speed at which our climate is changing.
So something has to give. And that shift must begin with remembering where this political movement came from: the grassroots. Those now in power must not forget the urgency they once carried in their bones. They cannot forget the feeling of wading into murky floodwater, holding a bag of rice over their heads. 
And it is our responsibility — mine <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/turning-green-policies-into-greenbacks" target="_blank">as a writer</a>, yours as a reader, and ours as citizens — to remind them. The real spark for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/measuring-climate-impact-on-culture-and-heritage" target="_blank">climate action</a> comes from personal stories of loss, fear, survival, and solidarity. And suddenly, those stories are no longer outside the halls of government. They are inside.
The question is no longer whether our leaders understand the stakes. They do. They lived it. The real question, as the skies grow heavier again, is this: What will we do with this moment?
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/a-pre-monsoon-deja-vu">Rastra Raj Bhandari</a> is a co-founder and fellow at the Himalayan Water Project, where he leads the research on climate finance opportunities for the Himalaya. He contributes regularly to Nepali Times on climate change.

Soon, the monsoon

Nepal's general election was notable not merely for its electoral outcome, but for the quality of civic discourse it produced. In homes, tea shops, polling queues, and university corridors across the country, citizens engaged with political questions in ways that felt qualitatively different from previous cycles.&nbsp;
Conversations extended well beyond candidate assessments and partisan allegiances — they were about institutional integrity, government accountability, and the structural direction of the country over the coming decade. For a significant portion of the electorate, the election carried the weight of a historical inflection point.&nbsp;
For others, it prompted measured reflection rather than unqualified optimism. Both responses deserve serious consideration.
Among the most consequential developments was the mobilisation of young voters on an unprecedented scale. Over one million new voters registered with the Election Commission, bringing the total electorate to 19,005,324 — a substantial expansion in a country of 30 million people.&nbsp;
The visible presence of first-time voters at polling stations across Kathmandu Valley was striking. Many waited patiently and with purpose at polling stations. This was a meaningful departure from earlier elections in which many young Nepalis considered the political system to be inaccessible, corrupt, or indifferent to their concerns.&nbsp;
But when citizens internalise a sense of ownership over democratic processes, participation deepens in ways that institutional incentives alone cannot produce.
National voter turnout reached approximately 60%, with several constituencies like Kathmandu-5 recording 71.31%. That reflected genuine civic engagement but also revealed that four in every ten eligible voters did not exercise their franchise.&nbsp;
This gap was not uniformly distributed. It correlates with geographic remoteness, socioeconomic disadvantage, and, critically, migration status.
Nepal's diaspora population - concentrated primarily in the Gulf states, Malaysia, and South Korea - contributes remittances that account for close to one quarter of the country's GDP. They constitute one of the most economically significant constituencies in the nation, yet many are not allowed to vote.&nbsp;
This disparity between economic contribution and political representation is widely recognised among young Nepalis abroad and represents a fundamental inconsistency in Nepal's democratic framework.
GENERATION GAP
This election marked a generational transition in Nepal's legislative composition. For several decades, political leadership at the national level was dominated by figures who retained prominence across successive constitutional and governmental changes. Now it is a cohort of younger parliamentarians drawn from backgrounds in law, civil society, policy analysis, and the professional sector.&nbsp;
Their entry into the legislature has generated a palpable sense of renewal among segments of the electorate that had grown disenchanted with the continuity of familiar leadership. Notably, in a number of constituencies, candidates from opposing parties offered public congratulations following the announcement of results, and in some instances participated jointly in post-election gatherings.&nbsp;
While such gestures may appear ceremonial, they reflect a civic disposition — the capacity to acknowledge political competition without resorting to antagonism — that democratic systems require in order to function sustainably.
The consolidation of electoral support around a single political force raises legitimate questions about the future character of parliamentary debate. Opposition parties perform an indispensable function in democratic governance: they scrutinise legislation, interrogate executive decisions, and represent constituencies and perspectives that may not be served by the governing majority.&nbsp;
Historical evidence, both in Nepal and internationally, demonstrates that the weakening of opposition does not produce more effective governance — it produces governance less subject to accountability. Nepal's incoming Parliament would do well to recognise that principled disagreement is not an impediment to the democratic process, it is an expression of it.
The electoral performance of the RSP invites comparison with earlier moments of political transformation in Nepal's recent history. The scale of popular enthusiasm surrounding the RSP's rise is not without precedent. Following the conclusion of the Maoist insurgency, the Communist Party of Nepal (Maoist) secured a decisive electoral mandate in 2008 amid widespread public expectation of systemic change.&nbsp;
The parallels are instructive, not as a prediction of failure, but as a reminder that democratic renewal requires sustained institutional commitment well beyond the period of electoral momentum. The capacity to translate popular mandate into durable governance reform is the measure by which political movements must ultimately be judged.
Nepal's constitutional guarantee of at least 33% female representation in Parliament has genuine democratic import. However, the mechanisms through which this threshold is met warrant critical examination.&nbsp;
In this election, women constituted only 388 of the 3,046 candidates contesting 165 first-past-the-post seats. The constitutional quota is fulfilled primarily through proportional representation lists, a process that formally satisfies the legal requirement while potentially obscuring the absence of genuine structural support for women's direct electoral participation.&nbsp;
Women candidates routinely operate with fewer financial resources, reduced party infrastructure, and disproportionate public scrutiny directed at personal rather than policy matters.&nbsp;
The parliamentarians who succeeded did so as a consequence of sustained commitment in the face of considerable institutional obstacles. Their presence is important. The conditions that made their path unnecessarily difficult must be addressed.
Democratic participation cannot be conceived solely in terms of legal rights, it must also be understood as a function of physical access. The design of electoral infrastructure communicates, in concrete terms, who is envisioned as a participant in democratic life.&nbsp;
Observing the formal transfer of ballot boxes under security escort prompted a recognition that institutional processes, however routinised in appearance, are sustained by collective trust and collective sacrifice. Democratic systems endure not because they are structurally perfect, but because citizens continue to invest them with meaning and hold them to account.
The 5 March election was held three days before International Women's Day. In Nepal, as across much of the world, women continue to face systemic disadvantages in public life, economic participation, and personal safety.&nbsp;
There must be an honest assessment of these conditions and in concrete commitment to their redress — through a safer public environment, equitable political representation, fair access to economic opportunity, and the consistent application of dignity in everyday social conduct. Anything less risks reducing a serious occasion to a performative exercise.
Nepal's current political moment carries genuine promise. A younger legislative cohort, a more politically engaged citizenry, and a demonstrable willingness among many citizens to hold institutions to higher standards.&nbsp;
They do not, however, constitute change in themselves. The critical work of democratic consolidation lies ahead: in the formulation and implementation of sound policy, accountability, and in the cultivation of a political culture in which public office is understood as a form of civic service rather than a source of personal authority.
Political progress is not measured by the energy of an election night. It is measured by the quality of governance that follows — by decisions made outside the public eye, by commitments honoured or abandoned when scrutiny recedes.&nbsp;
Nepal does not require only new faces in positions of power. It requires a durable transformation in the relationship between those who govern and those who are governed — one founded on the principle that public officials are, in the most fundamental sense, accountable to the people they serve. The ballot has rendered its judgment. The responsibility for what follows is shared by all.
Ishika Panta is a Nepali social entrepreneur, policy advocate, and founder of Project Abhaya.

After the ballot in Nepal

Nepal has delivered a clear, decisive mandate to the RSP in this election, breaking many previous records.&nbsp;
Not even Pushpa Kamal Dahal got such a victory during the first Constituent Assembly election in 2008 in which he had emerged as a larger-than-life figure after the conflict. What Balendra Shah has achieved is rare in Nepal’s 35-year-old multiparty democratic system.
The campaign slogan ‘Abki Baar Balen Sarkar’ was heard right across the Tarai, even though the turnout of 58%, was the lowest in Nepal’s multiparty history. Many Nepalis in the Gulf could not return to vote, others could not travel back to their districts from the cities.&nbsp;
Traditional voters of the old parties may also not have turned out to vote. This election was all inclusive, all old or new parties and independent confidantes participated and voting was &nbsp;held on time as mandated to interim prime minister Shushila Karki.
Nepal is now going to have a ‘Balen sarkar’ of the RSP, a party barely three years old moving to a two-thirds majority. In the proportional representation count, it is securing more than 50% of total party votes.&nbsp;
All this is rare in Nepali political history, when a single party gained a majority for the first time since 1999, especially given the mixed electoral system, which generally reduces the possibility of a single party obtaining a majority. The popularity of the rapper-turned-politician and former mayor of Kathmandu has made this remarkable outcome possible. &nbsp;
<div class="embed-block"><iframe src="https://election-geo-dashboard.pages.dev/" width="100%" height="600" frameborder="0"> </iframe></div>
The result will also weaken the argument that the mixed electoral system is not suitable for Nepal, an argument that had recently been gaining momentum.
Balendra defeated former Prime Minister K P Oli in his stronghold of Jhapa-5, considered the Leningrad of the Nepali left. All former prime ministers in the fray, except Dahal, have lost their seats. Shah’s popularity was often dismissed as merely a social media hype, but his decision not to become the interim leader after the GenZ movement now appears to have been a wise one.&nbsp;
Nepal was in dire need of a stable government, and is now going to have one. Past mergers and coalitions have fallen apart due to power clashes. There have been 30 governments in the past 35 years of multi-party political history. No government in that time ever completed its five-year term.&nbsp;
Parties were unresponsive to the people’s desire for accountable and efficient government. These were the objective conditions that drove the GenZ movement, and also emerged as the main issues in this election. Voters rejected the old political parties, reducing them to one of the lowest levels in history.&nbsp;
The communist parties have suffered significantly in terms of seats and vote share, while the RSP has performed very well across all parts of Nepal, including Madhes, where its prospects were previously considered weak because of its past anti-federalism stance. The RSP managed to defeat even Madhes-centric parties.&nbsp;
CHALLENGES
Great power brings great responsibility, and the RSP government will face several challenges from day one. It will have to ensure transparency, maintain stability and have an economic blueprint for job creation and development.&nbsp;
There is also the possibility of internal rivalry between Shah and Rabi Lamichhane, the founding chair of the party. Lamichhane is considered an ambitious figure, and so is Shah — although he keeps his cards close to his chest and is introverted. Their egos could clash, creating divisions within the party when it gets into government.
The RSP has promised constitutional reforms that emerged during the GenZ movement. It has pledged to introduce a discussion paper on proposed constitutional amendments covering issues such as a directly elected executive, a fully proportional Parliament, and reforms in the country’s federal system.&nbsp;
These changes would require a two-thirds majority in the National Assembly as well, where the RSP currently has no presence. Support of the other parties would be essential. As leader, Shah will have to move away from his earlier aggressive and confrontational attitude, and instead adopt an approach based on cooperation and consultation in order to advance his agenda.
The election results suggest that there was deep dissatisfaction, distrust, and anger among Nepalis toward the old political establishment. The new government will have to restructure the Nepali state, focusing on tackling the issues such as corruption, favouritism and political appointments in the bureaucracy and judiciary, so that public trust in the system can be restored.&nbsp;
The people have played their part, now it is the turn of the RSP to deliver. Here, the economic sector needs and overhaul to reduce dependence on remittances. Unemployment among youth is at 20%, and following the arson and vandalism in September foreign investment declined by 40%.&nbsp;
The new government's main task will be reversing out-migration by creating jobs at home, which requires a better investment climate and economic reform. Many hydropower projects remain incomplete, but Nepal can monetise its geography and water resources to boost the economy. Nepal’s industrial and manufacturing sector needs reorganisation and investment.
Another task will be to ensure justice for the victims of the GenZ movement by making public the report of the Gauri Bahadur Karki Commission and delivering justice to those affected. The Shah-led government will need to deliver on the promises made.
It will also have to carefully manage balanced relations between India, China, and the United States. As mayor of Kathmandu, Balendra Shah’s views on India were critical and hardline, when he displayed a map of ‘Greater Nepal’ in his office in 2023.
However, given India’s importance in Nepal’s development journey, he must move beyond past emotional and nationalist rhetoric and work toward building constructive relations with New Delhi.&nbsp;
India will have to be reassured that its interests in the neighbourhood will not be ignored and that Nepal will remain sensitive to India’s security concerns, while also assuring China that Nepal will not become part of any U S strategy directed against Chinese interests.
Mohan Kumar Mishra is a PhD scholar in the Department of Political Science at Banaras Hindu University, Varanasi.&nbsp;

Nepalis deliver a mature and historic mandate

Nepal’s 5 March election may represent one of the most significant political shifts since the country adopted its republican constitution in 2015. What began as a youth-led protest last year has grown into a strong electoral mandate.&nbsp;
The Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP), led by Kathmandu’s former mayor Balendra ‘Balen’ Shah, appears set for a major victory, reshaping the political landscape and challenging the long-standing dominance of traditional parties.
The scale of this change is truly remarkable. Early vote counts show the RSP winning or leading in most regions, outpacing well-established political figures and ending the dominance of parties like the Nepali Congress and the Communist factions.
Based on current trends, the RSP appears on track to secure an outright majority within Nepal’s 275-seat lower house of Parliament. It might also achieve a two-thirds majority once the results of the proportional representation segment of Nepal’s mixed electoral system are finalised. This development contradicts a common assumption among most analysts – including this one – that Nepal’s complex electoral system would make unstable coalition governments likely.
A COMPLICATED PHASE
For many Nepalis, especially the youth, this election means more than just a regular democratic process. It signifies a rejection of the old political order. Still, the RSP’s electoral success does not mean all of Nepal’s political problems are solved. In fact, it marks the beginning of a more complicated phase.
The rise of the RSP highlights widespread dissatisfaction with Nepal’s political leadership. Years of instability, corruption, economic stagnation, and high unemployment have eroded public trust in traditional parties.
The turning point came with youth protests in September 2025, driven by frustration with government policies and social discontent. These protests led to Prime Minister Khadga Prasad Sharma Oli’s resignation and early elections.
In this atmosphere, the RSP positioned itself as a change-maker. Its anti-corruption rhetoric, active social media presence, and connection with young voters resonated with the public mood.
What is happening now is a major political upheaval. Established parties, used to sharing power, now face a very different political landscape. However, turning electoral support into effective governance will be a major challenge, far more difficult than winning votes.
The first big hurdle for any RSP-led government will be managing governance itself. While the party’s rise is fueled by hopes of reform, turning those hopes into real policies will require strong administration, discipline, and teamwork, traits that new political parties often struggle to develop.
Nepal’s bureaucratic system is complex and often resistant to change. Overhauling government institutions, improving public services, and fighting corruption will need continuous reforms, not just words.
Public expectations are sky-high. Ironically, this might be the biggest challenge for the RSP. If reforms stall or internal conflicts arise, public disillusionment could grow quickly.
Nepal’s economy faces serious issues. Many citizens work abroad, sending remittances that support the economy but also highlight the lack of local opportunities. Youth unemployment, underemployment, and slow economic growth are ongoing problems.
An RSP-led government must develop a credible economic plan focused on job creation, attracting investment, and infrastructure. Without visible progress, the initial enthusiasm for change could fade fast.
Meanwhile, Nepal’s young population is a vital resource. If the new government harnesses this talent by encouraging entrepreneurship, using technology, and investing in education, it can turn societal frustration into economic development.
Nepal’s strategic position between India and China adds extra complexity. The country has traditionally kept a delicate balance in its relations with both neighbors, along with other international partners. The new government might face pressure to shift this balance, with both India and China closely watching foreign policy moves. The challenge is to protect Nepal’s sovereignty while gaining the economic aid needed for growth.
UNIQUE OPPORTUNITY
Despite these challenges, the 5 March election offers a unique opportunity. Nepal’s democracy, often complicated, has once again shown its resilience and ability to renew itself. Voters have peacefully replaced the old political elite with a new generation of leaders, an achievement worth celebrating.
If the RSP can move beyond protest politics and develop a comprehensive governance plan, Nepal could enter a new era of growth and renewal. A government dedicated to integrity, opportunity, and reform could rebuild public trust in democracy.
However, history warns us that revolutions often create expectations that exceed institutional capacity. For Nepal, the real work begins now.
Sanjay Upadhya is the author and analyst based in the United States. Originally posted <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/nepals-mandate-change-test-governance-sanjay-upadhya-soafc">here</a>.

Nepal’s mandate for change

Sanae Takaichi’s electoral victory in February marks a historic turning point in Japanese politics. As Japan’s first female prime minister and the leader of a commanding parliamentary majority, she represents change in both symbolic and strategic terms. 
Conventional wisdom long held that younger Japanese voters leaned progressive, were sceptical of assertive security policies, and disengaged from ideological nationalism. Yet a segment of digitally active youth rallied behind a politician associated with constitutional revision, expanded defence capabilities, and a more unapologetic articulation of national identity. 
This shift cannot be reduced to a simple conservative swing. Rather, Takaichi’s rise reflects a deeper transformation in how democratic politics is constructed in the digital age: the growing power of imagery, digital mobilisation, and algorithm-driven branding in shaping political choice—particularly among younger voters.
Takaichi’s approval ratings among voters aged 18–29 approached 90% in some surveys, far surpassing those of her predecessors. Youth turnout also rose, suggesting that Japanese youth are not politically apathetic. 
On the contrary, they are paying attention—but the nature of that engagement has changed. Viral images, short video clips, hashtags, and aesthetic cues travelled faster and farther than policy briefings. For many younger voters, engagement began—and sometimes ended—with the visual and emotional appeal of the candidate. 
This pattern is not uniquely Japanese. However, the scale of its impact in this election suggests that political communication has entered a new phase in which digital imagery can shape electoral outcomes as much as—or more than—substantive debate.
A New Phase of Digital Politics in Japan
In the months leading up to the election, Takaichi’s image proliferated across social media platforms. Supporters circulated clips highlighting her confident demeanour and historic candidacy. 
A cultural trend sometimes described as ‘sanakatsu’ or ‘sanae-mania’ framed political support as a form of fandom participation. Hashtags multiplied. ‘Mic-drop’ moments went viral. Even personal accessories—her handbags and ballpoint pens—became symbolic conversation pieces.
Political enthusiasm has always contained emotional and symbolic elements. What is new is the speed and scale at which digital platforms amplify them. Algorithms reward content that provokes reaction—admiration, anger, excitement. A charismatic clip often outperforms a detailed explanation of fiscal reform. 
For younger voters raised in scroll-based media environments, political information increasingly arrives as curated snippets. Policy complexity competes with—and often loses to—aesthetic immediacy.
Post-election surveys and interviews suggested that many first-time voters struggled to articulate specific policy distinctions between parties. Instead, they cited impressions—strength, change, decisiveness, novelty—suggesting that digital engagement does not automatically translate into policy literacy. 
Political identity can form through repeated exposure to imagery and narrative rather than sustained examination of legislative proposals. When campaigns are optimised for shareability, they are incentivised to simplify. Nuance compresses poorly into short-form video.
The Politics of Strength in an Age of Uncertainty
Japan’s younger generation has grown up amid prolonged economic stagnation, regional insecurity, and global volatility. China’s rise, tensions over Taiwan, North Korean missile launches, and persistent wage stagnation form the backdrop of their political participation. For many, the future feels uncertain and structurally constrained.
In such an environment, Takaichi’s assertive rhetoric carried emotional resonance. Her emphasis on strengthening national defence, revisiting aspects of the postwar settlement, and making Japan “strong and rich” projected clarity rather than ambiguity. Where institutional politics can appear technocratic or slow, decisive messaging offered the voters psychological reassurance.
At the core of her appeal is a narrative of restoring a ‘strong’ Japan. Calls for constitutional revision and expanded defence capabilities are framed as steps toward recovering national self-confidence. For younger Japanese fatigued by protracted historical disputes and what some perceive as externally imposed guilt, language emphasising pride and sovereignty resonates more readily than complex historical debates. 
This may not signal a rejection of peace. Rather, it may reflect a generational reframing of peace itself—understood not solely as pacifism, but as deterrence, defence capability, and strategic autonomy. Messages stressing ‘sovereignty’, ‘strength’, and ‘normal country’ can circulate more effectively in shareable digital formats than nuanced and complex historical analysis.
A Global Pattern: Virtual Branding, a Democratic Crossroads
Japan’s experience mirrors a broader transformation in democratic politics: the rise of virtual branding as the central organising principle of electoral strategy. In earlier eras, campaigns revolved around party platforms and televised debates. 
Today, strategy increasingly begins with platform optimisation. Campaigns are designed not only to persuade, but to perform within algorithmic systems. The guiding question is no longer only “What policies do we stand for?” but “What content travels?”
The election of Donald Trump in the United States illustrated how virtual media strategy can reshape political competition. Memorable slogans and emotionally charged posts dominated attention cycles, often eclipsing policy detail. Scholars have described this as “attention economics in action”: the candidate who captures digital attention shapes political reality before formal debate even begins. 
More recently, figures such as Zohran Mamdani have demonstrated how youth-centered digital branding can mobilise support with remarkable speed. Campaigns became participatory; supporters did not merely consume messaging but actively distributed political identity.
Takaichi’s recent victory reflects the evolving mechanics of digital democracy. Her leadership will ultimately be judged not by imagery but by governance — by whether her policies deliver economic stability, regional security, and social cohesion. The broader question, however, transcends any single administration. It means political decisions have migrated into digital environments optimised for speed and visual communication. 
In an age where images travel faster than ideas, democratic choice risks being guided more by what is seen than by what is discussed. In such an environment, political campaigns will be forced to adapt, and produce content that performs well within these algorithmic constraints. 
Over time, this may reshape voter expectations and politics will begin to resemble influencer culture. Campaigns that fail to master digital branding risk will appear outdated. Those that succeed can mobilise youth at scale.
Democracy has always balanced emotion and reason. The challenge today is ensuring that emotion does not eclipse reason entirely. The future of informed citizenship may depend on restoring that balance. 
This does not suggest that previous eras were immune to personality politics. What has changed is the proportion. The digital environment magnifies symbolic cues and compresses policy discussion. If democracies wish to maintain robust deliberation, they must consciously rebalance image and substance. 
This requires civic education focused on media literacy, <a href="https://toda.org/policy-briefs-and-resources/policy-briefs/deliberative-technology-designing-ai-and-computational-democracy-for-peacebuilding.html">virtual platform incentives that elevate substantive debate</a> and political leadership willing to engage in depth, not just virality. And the responsibility is collective—voters, educators, media institutions, and candidates alike. The question facing democracies is whether this transformation can coexist with substantive deliberation or whether branding will increasingly overtake it.
Ria Shibata is a Senior Research Fellow at the New Zealand Centre for Global Studies, and the Toda Peace Institute in Japan. She also serves as a Visiting Scholar at the University of Auckland. 
This article was issued by the Toda Peace Institute and has been republished from <a href="https://toda.org/global-outlook/2026/imagery-algorithms-and-the-ballot-what-takaichis-victory-says-about-youth-politics-in-the-digital-age.html">the original</a> with permission.

Imagery, Algorithms, and the Ballot

To mark International Women’s Day on 8 March right after the election, we had planned a Diaspora Diaries series focusing on female migrants. What are their aspirations? What challenges or opportunities are unique to them as female migrants? And, what are their expectations from the new government? The stories would also draw attention to one group we could not manage to speak with at the airport: domestic workers.&nbsp; Why? Because the government has <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/two-decades-of-debate-on-female-migration" target="_blank">banned</a> domestic work in the Gulf. You will not find them at the airport, at least not with a labour permit for domestic work. They are mostly traveling through the India, migrating but without required documents, adequate pre-departure skills and orientation training. They remain invisible in government records, and are left to fend for themselves. This has been one of the most persistent failures of multiple governments despite <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-s-unchanging-migration-saga" target="_blank">evidence</a> that such bans amplify the very abuses that they are designed to address. But while working on the profiles of female migrants, war broke out in West Asia. Millions of workers are at risk, including the domestic workers. Crises expose cracks in our system and policies. During Covid-19, for example, repatriation efforts revealed gaps in data and coordination, particularly concerning domestic workers. Precisely when the government needed to know how many Nepalis were overseas, where they were located, and how to assist them, they were absent in records, lacked documentation and were ineligible for welfare services that required valid labour permits. Labour permits are important because they are tied to the government’s data management system, and are critical for record-keeping. They are issued only after workers complete pre-departure training tailored to their sector and contribute to the welfare fund which provides various services during crises. But we have failed to learn lessons from past failures. WAR FEARS Nepalis in the Gulf have told us they are safe so far, although there is an atmosphere of fear and anxiety. The explosions are frightening, especially for children. Attacks are not confined to base camps, but airports, oil refineries and embassies have also not been spared, fuelling further fear. If regional tensions escalate and evacuation becomes necessary, it would be an enormous challenge given the size of the diaspora in the Gulf. Female domestic workers would be especially vulnerable, partly given the nature of their work but also because our emigration system contributed to it. The task of collecting information of all migrants whether they are documented or not through an online registration system should already begin, says Krishna Panthi of the Non-resident Nepalese Association (NRNA) in Qatar. One consistent theme in conversations with migrants is the need to have more effective Nepal embassies abroad. Crises like this magnify the weaknesses of our embassies or labour diplomacy. Migrant workers frequently cite Philippine embassies as good examples of taking care of its overseas workers. They are also significantly better resourced and staffed than Nepal’s embassies. How diplomats are appointed needs to be reformed, embassies must have sufficient resources for the size of the population they serve, they must build relationships with the destination country and back home, and they should be held accountable.&nbsp; This crisis is a reminder for the incoming government to allocate adequate resources from the budget to the foreign employment sector. This means increasing staffing and strengthening our diplomatic missions while holding them accountable for their primary task — address the needs of overseas Nepalis.&nbsp; But the West Asia war is happening now. We make the best of what we have in an all hands on deck way. Leveraging diaspora groups will be critical in supporting migrants to cast the net widely. A recent letter from the NRNA-International Coordination Council urged the government to prepare and coordinate effectively, immediately mobilising volunteers. Another consistent theme among migrants is that the new government create jobs with liveable wages in Nepal itself so they do not have to leave. Even those who earned adequate wages in Nepal said they were just one crisis away from indebtedness because of a health shock in the family or a household emergency. Political party manifestos all mention job creation, but how this will be realised in practice is what actually matters.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026030307030_e294cfe36d054a4cca8cbf50010292cc1e174bac74147f1eaa29b30f55591632.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026030307030_e294cfe36d054a4cca8cbf50010292cc1e174bac74147f1eaa29b30f55591632" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Migration, election, and war NT"> </figure>  Many Nepalis may now be compelled to return or not leave in the first place because of wars, pandemics or other economic or geopolitical shocks. Whether returns are planned or unplanned, meaningful jobs back home, an environment to run successful businesses and good remigration options allowing migrants to build on previous experiences need to be prioritised. This crisis has again proven that lack of diversification in destination countries makes Nepalis more vulnerable. Concerns about the lack of diversification also emerged when Malaysia, another major destination country, closed its doors to foreign workers for almost two years. It is important to invest in labour mobility partnerships such as those with Korea, Japan and the UAE. A pilot agreement with the UAE for domestic workers is yet to be implemented.&nbsp; Overseas demand will continue, as destruction on this scale will inevitably be followed by reconstruction. Demographic change and the need for migrants in essential job categories are critical to keeping societies functioning.&nbsp; A Jordan-Nepal agreement for garment workers with support from International Labor Organization (ILO), for example, has opened up opportunities for thousands of women for garment jobs linked to multinational brands who are recruited ethically without having to pay fees.&nbsp; Rita Choudhury from Rautahat who was at SCC Manpower that manages deployment of garment workers to Jordan told us, “We are benefiting from free training in tailoring before we migrate for free to Jordan. I will earn money working for a few years and can continue the same work once I am back and create jobs in my village for those who are unemployed.” Of all the migrant workers who left last year, 12.9% were female with over half of them migrating just to three countries: UAE, Qatar and Kuwait.&nbsp; From tracking what candidates are up to in this week’s election, Nepalis have now switched focus on monitoring the situation in the Gulf. With every refresh, there is a new missile intercepted or a debris that has hit some building. Workers in office jobs have moved to remote work, outdoor work is restricted, and other jobs, such as those in the service sector, have reduced personnel. Many workers are confined to their rooms including those evacuated from American military bases.&nbsp; A Nepali from Gorkha, Diwas Shrestha, who worked as a security guard was among those killed in the UAE on 1 March. Social media posts show some narrowly escaping falling debris of intercepted missiles while many are stranded at airports. Even though the West Asia war has diverted our attention, now more than ever we need bold, visionary leadership that we can actually count on. To collectively heal from our internal crisis borne out of frustration and distrust with the system that came at a huge cost including young lives lost on 8 September — some of whom were in Kathmandu waiting to fly out for overseas jobs. The government has also constantly overlooked Nepalis abroad who cannot vote. This includes 2 million of them in West Asia, in the middle of a crisis that threatens their safety and livelihoods. As this election shows, the diaspora maybe disenfranchised but it is not disengaged. Nepalis overseas are campaigning through calls, letters, posters on suitcases and social media. Many are leaving Nepal and voting with their feet because the safe job overseas is more important than any ballot. Others are returning because the ballot is more important than the job. Many Nepalis who were flying home this week to cast their vote are stranded in Dubai, Doha and Kuwait, and may not make it on time. Migrants who were on their way out are stuck at home, and many have returned to their villages to vote as they wait for flights to resume. What struck us most in our <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/overseas-nepali-vote-bank" target="_blank">interviews</a> on elections and migration these past couple of months was the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/homecoming-at-election-time" target="_blank">urgency</a> with which many migrants approached this election. Many traveled home convinced that their individual vote mattered because the stakes are just so high. Will the new government reciprocate to this disenfranchised population and deliver with the same sense of urgency? Upasana Khadka heads Migration Lab, a social enterprise aimed at making migration outcomes better for workers and their families. Labour Mobility is a regular column in Nepali Times.

Upasana Khadka

Labour Mobility

Women, migration, election, and war

For years, the Middle East has been described through the language of fracture. Conflict zones. Proxy wars. Collapsing states. Yet here in the Gulf, and especially in the United Arab Emirates, a different narrative took hold. Stability. Efficiency. Ambition. A belief that even amid regional disorder, it was possible to chart a different trajectory, to pave the way toward a more stable and generous future.
Abu Dhabi became synonymous with planning rather than improvisation. With infrastructure rather than rubble. With innovation rather than despair. People from across the world came here to work, to build, to test themselves and succeed together. It cultivated belonging, investing in youth, knowledge, and possibility. It fostered a confidence that felt earned rather than proclaimed.
It was also a place where policymaking could be observed almost as a craft. Flexible yet disciplined. Experimental yet strategic. Institutions were built, adjusted, refined. Governance did not feel theatrical. It felt intentional. To watch that process was a reminder that the state can still function with competence and imagination.
In many ways, this place has resembled a modern ark. Diverse. Layered. Hopeful. A convergence of global citizens from countries rich and poor building lives together. The shock of what is unfolding here is not regional and certainly not local. These communities are now experiencing firsthand what hardened geopolitics feels like. And that experience will travel. It will reverberate far beyond this coastline.
And then the bombs fall.
It is one thing to analyze geopolitics from a distance, to speak of deterrence, escalation la­­dders, strategic signaling, calibrated retaliation. It is another to sit at home, phone in hand, watching alerts multiply, calculating distances on a map, wondering whether to stock up on groceries, whether schools will open, whether flights will leave.
When geopolitical analysis becomes lived reality, its vocabulary collapses.
Families here are not debating doctrine. They are calming children. Scanning supermarket shelves. Texting relatives abroad. Realizing that departure, in a moment of regional shutdown, is not simple. Authorities move quickly to reassure residents that systems are functioning, defenses activated, contingencies in place.
The instability is not internally generated. It is the spillover of wider confrontation. Which is precisely why the shock cuts deeper. When safety has been the baseline, its sudden fragility is both maddening and humbling.
For the strongest players in the Gulf, and especially the United Arab Emirates, the aspiration was clear. To anchor stability in a region marked by volatility. To project competence rather than chaos. To invest in education, culture, renewable energy, artificial intelligence. To become crossroads of capital, ideas, and mobility. The promise was not merely economic. It was existential. That one could live expansively, in confident openness, securely.
How quickly the horizon narrows.
There is a growing normalization of strategies in which weapons and attacks are treated as routine instruments of statecraft. Infrastructure becomes leverage. Shipping lanes become bargaining chips. Energy corridors become pressure points. The line between military signaling and diplomatic coercion blurs. Once that threshold is crossed, it rarely contracts. It expands.
Centers of power speak of necessity, red lines, deterrence. But the lived reality of those within range of missiles is fear, uncertainty, and vulnerability. The map looks orderly from afar. Up close, it is populated by parents, workers, students, retirees negotiating the fragile routines of ordinary life.
Those accustomed to secure and well-organized societies internalize safety as baseline, mobility as entitlement, connectivity as permanent. We forget how contingent these conditions are.
For many societies, instability is not interruption. It is structure. Perhaps this moment offers us a more honest proximity to that reality.
None of this flattens responsibility. The United States, Israel, Iran, and regional powers operate within distinct security logics. Yet one sobering reality remains. When force becomes a primary currency of political communication, the threshold for its use lowers. The exceptional becomes routine. The outcome grows precarious.
From Abu Dhabi this week, geopolitics is no longer abstraction. It is audible. It is logistical. It is personal.
Abu Dhabi will do its utmost to keep everyone hopeful and feeling safe. Systems will function. Reassurances will come. Stability here is cultivated, not accidental. A return to calm is in everyone’s interest.
But in this suspended moment, as alerts replace routine, we are given something rare. Time to reflect. To reconsider. To reckon, individually and communally, with the fragility of what we so casually call normal life.
And that should compel policymakers and citizens alike to ask what kind of normal we are willing to accept, and whether we are surrendering the very conditions that make ordinary life possible.
Sophia Kalantzakos is Global Distinguished Professor of Environmental Studies and Public Policy in the Sheikh Mohamed bin Zayed Scholars Program (SMSP), New York University Abu Dhabi.&nbsp;
Reprinted with permission from <a href="https://www.ekathimerini.com/opinion/1296678/when-geopolitics-becomes-lived-reality/">ekathimerini.com</a>

When geopolitics becomes lived reality

What is common across all major political parties contesting the election on Friday is that they are all led by influential men.&nbsp;
Rabi Lamichhane + Balendra Shah duo head the RSP, Gagan Thapa leads the Nepali Congress (NC), the UML’ s K P Oli is still leader, Kulman Ghising is the founder and leader of the Ujyalo Nepal Party, and there is Harka Sampang of the Shram Sanskriti Party.&nbsp;
These men do not just lead the parties, they are the parties. Their authority within the party is largely uncontested and is sustained through loyalty to the deeply familiar Nepali figure of the Dai or Ba, the elder brother or father who is trusted, defended, and followed.
For the most part, they do not exert influence due to leadership skills but through a reinforcement of the idea that their leadership is the solution to the political crisis facing Nepal. Around these men is a loyal orbit of supporters, extending from central committee members to party cadres, mostly men.
Supporters amplify the idea of their chosen leadership and defend them at all cost in the public sphere, and especially on social media where polarising and controversial speech is rewarded by the design feature of the platforms.
Only 395 out of the 3,484 first-past-the-post (FPTP) candidates are women, in the upcoming elections. Of the biggest parties, the NC has only 6.67% women, UML 7.92%, NCP 6,90 %, RSP 9.73%, Shram Sanskriti Party 6.42%, UNP 5.79% and Janata Samajwadi party 8.41%.&nbsp;
The highest among the parties is not even 10%. The numbers represent the interconnected manospheres that pervade all layers of Nepali politics — it is not merely exclusion, but a systematic structuring of gender in politics.
Manosphere as an umbrella term for online communities that have increasingly promoted narrow and aggressive definitions of what it means to be a man, and the false narrative that feminism and gender equality have come at the cost of men’s rights. These communities promote the idea that emotional control, material wealth, physical appearance and dominance, especially over women, are markers of male worth.
It is an internet phenomenon, but it also relates to how men have hoarded power and taken up space in Nepali politics that constitutionally belongs to women, without exception of a single major party. While certainly the leaders of the parties are not spearheading manospheres, their support systems and structural organisation show characteristics akin to one.
A distinct feature of a manosphere is the attitude of rejection it carries towards liberalism, democratic pillars of inclusion and participation, political correctness, and they distort biology and evolution in argument of restrictive gender roles. They assign men as de facto leaders and women as followers, if not adversaries. Manospheres operate with an underlying understanding that feminism or women empowerment is detrimental to men.
This feature of the manosphere is starkly visible in how women in politics have experienced this election, in their campaigning on social media. From Ranju Darshana to Nisha Adhikari to Reema Biswokarma, their social media posts have comments from people trying to tell them of their place in society.
A pregnant politician and two artists turned politicians, are routinely told that their pursuit of leadership is not what the society needs. Even Prime Minister Sushila Karki was vilified publicly by Durga Prasai publicly, and was met with laughter from the circle of people around him.
Digital platforms have become an open arena for misogynistic attacks against women, often delegitimising their political participation rather than hosting democratic dialogue. Women who ascribe to the idea of the leadership archetype endorsed by the manosphere, are lauded for their participation. Responses to the speech of the RSP’s Sobita Gautam in Janakpur is an example.
Another symptom of the manosphere in Nepali politics is that it endorses violence, be it rhetorically, or equating it with leadership. By drooling over the violence spewed by them, instead of looking at evidence of capacity for governance, thoughts on inclusion, visions for development and much more, the definition of being a leader is narrowed.&nbsp;
When our politics are up for debate in social media platforms, unsurprisingly, vile and inflammatory language becomes a recipe for success, hence amplifying ‘leaders’ who revert to such tactics.
A study by researchers at Dublin City University found that newly created teen-boy accounts on TikTok and YouTube Shorts were algorithmically exposed to sexist and misogynistic content within about the first 23 minutes of use, even when they were not deliberately looking for it. So naturally, misogyny sells.&nbsp;
Besides, groups on Facebook have been mobilised during campaigning for elections. The most prominent men only group in Nepal MRR was disabled by Meta prior to the October 2022 election for violating their terms and conditions.
While it is not new that women in Nepali politics have endured misogyny, it has been magnified by how political discourses online occur in the manospheres. There is no conversation on how Gagan Thapa will not become the next Sher Bahadur Deuba, there is no debate on how the newly formed government will meet the constitutional requirement of having at least 33% women in the House — it is only about which man is more suitable to be the next prime minister of Nepal in a system that does not directly appoint them.
Even if we were to believe the misogyny online is not representative of our society’s views on women, the avalanche of toxicity on the platforms is something we have to learn to live with.&nbsp;
Women interested in politics must come prepared to endure hate. Likewise, if these comments are not real, and are bots or fake accounts that seek to demoralise women, then we must understand that the political powers of today are weaponising misogyny to prevent women from being leaders.
Ayusha Chalise is a communication and development scholar specialising in how politics is experienced in the digital space.

Ayusha Chalise

Cyberia

Democracy in the manosphere

It was inspiring for me here in Norway to read Radhesh Pant’s Guest Editorial in Nepali Times on 4 February titled ‘A Chance for Nepal’s Political Renewal’.
Now the time has come, we hope. Youth groups have decided to stand firm in the process of making Nepal a more democratic society. They are concerned, they have the competence and talent, and they are dedicated.&nbsp;
For many years, I have followed the ups and downs of Nepal's politics: the re-introduction of multi-party democracy in 1990 allowing civil society organisations, the Maoist insurgency ending in 1996, the palace shooting in 2001, king Gyanendra abdicating in 2006, Nepal becoming a republic in 2008, and the ratification of the new Constitution in 2015. Right up to the demonstrations and violence in September last year.
All these upheavals took place in Nepal within just over three decades. Defining democracy as a system in which every citizen can vote, we must remember that it took 100 years for many European countries to become democracies, in some countries even longer.&nbsp;
Norway is one example of the latter: after 400 years as a Danish colony, Norway was an autonomous country (except for foreign affairs) in a union with Sweden, meaning we had a common king with Sweden, but a Parliament with Norwegians.&nbsp;
This status changed in 1814, Parliament gathered at an estate north of the capital to declare independence from Sweden and pass a new Constitution – it could be called a silent coup d’etat.&nbsp;
Norwegian women obtained the right to vote only in 1913. It took us 400 years to become independent country, and nearly a century for its citizens to obtain the right to vote.
A democratic process therefore can last long, it is filled with frustration, anger, optimism, pessimism. In Nepal, I have noticed all these emotions, in the media as well as among people.&nbsp;
Since 1999, I have been fortunate to meet Nepalis, many of whom have become good friends, who have told me about personal experiences and their views on politics and on local conditions.&nbsp;
Nepal is a complex society, and many aspects are still difficult for me to understand. But I do indeed feel confident to agree with Radhesh Pant that political renewal in Nepal is possible.
GLOBAL AUTOCRATISATION&nbsp;
Elections alone do not guarantee a functional democracy, however, and Nepal is not the only country that must cope with political and social challenges – just look at historical and recent events throughout the world today.&nbsp;
Corruption has been a stubborn challenge in countries on every continent, reducing people’s trust in politicians and the political system. Power sharing cannot be taken for granted any more, political and administrative decisions are made without concern for the rule of law, and autocratic leaders contribute to public institutions being broken down from within.&nbsp;
In the US and Europe, migration has become a polarising issue and has stoked conflict among citizens which can be exploited for political gain by populists to navigate among power positions.
With all this happening, it is encouraging to observe that citizens, especially the young generation, are mobilising against such trends and to save democracy.&nbsp;
The GenZ movement in Nepal followed youth uprisings in Bangladesh, Indonesia, and Nepal itself was followed by similar ones in Thailand, Morocco, as well as in other parts of the world – just a few weeks ago, also in Albania.
The election on 5 March, and the negotiations that will inevitably following to form a government with clear policies for the future will be an indication that our optimism is well founded, and that every Nepali – young and old, poor and rich, male and female living in the centre and periphery -- will obtain better possibilities to participate in political decision-making.
Ultimately, this will make it possible for Nepalis to improve their social condition, as well as contributing to their country’s democratic development. &nbsp;
Marit Bakke is a retired Professor of Sociology. Since 1984, she has been in Nepal regularly, to collaborate academically with Nepalis, including as a member of the International Board of Patan Academy of Health Sciences &nbsp;(PAHS).

Letter from Norway

“Let's have another cup of tea,” <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/ujwal-thapa-s-light-shines-on-n0tfurod">Ujwal Thapa</a> of the alternative Bibeksheel Nepali party told the young activist Pukar Bam ten years ago. The two had 12 cups of tea that day, discussing ways to get Nepal out of its political deadend. Thapa contested the Constituent Assembly election in 2013 as an independent from Kathmandu, and formed Bibeksheel Nepali to galvanise youth impatient for change, fielding candidates in the first federal election in 2017.&nbsp; Ujwal Thapa was a political guru who was way ahead of his time, and his protégés were among the RSP’s winning candidates in last week’s election. Pukar Bam was a core member of Bibeksheel Nepali until its dissolution, and won the Kathmandu-4 seat this time. Other former Bibeksheel members who won the election from the RSP in Kathmandu include Ranju Neupane from Kathmandu-1, Sasmit Pokharel from Kathmandu-5, and Biraj Bhakta Shrestha in Kathmandu-8. As votes were counted and the results from Kathmandu began to come in, the candidates paid fulsome tribute to Ujwal Thapa’s mentorship and in inspiring idealistic youth to become a part of an alternative political force.&nbsp; Today, as RSP members of Parliament, they are no longer an alternative, but a part of Nepal’s new mainstream politics. Thapa returned to Nepal after finishing his undergraduate computer science degree in the US at the peak of the Maoist insurgency. His foray into politics began when he traveled to Nepal’s western mountains to train communities in mediation. After the war, he started a computer design company for young entrepreneurs entering the workforce. But he became frustrated with the inability of the second Constituent Assembly to promulgate the Constitution, and the power struggle between political parties played out in the streets that led to frequent shutdowns paralysing the country.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260313120348_d18647d53a3b2927328067c35b2e3e6eecf9aefe13f23384e73a2c17211cd9cb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260313120348_d18647d53a3b2927328067c35b2e3e6eecf9aefe13f23384e73a2c17211cd9cb" data-rendition-name="original" width="823" height="682" loading="lazy" alt="The RSP's activist DNA"> <figcaption>Thapa with Pukar Bam, who was elected to Parliament last week from Kathmandu-4. Photo: PUKAR BAM / FACEBOOK</figcaption> </figure>  PROTEST TO POLITICS Ujwal Thapa had had enough, and rallied people from across walks of life, leading peaceful, silent demonstrations proclaiming 'नेपाल खुल्ला छ' against prolonged, violent strikes. Citizens fed up with the main political parties organised to defy the shutdowns. Thapa’s activism and vision for a new Nepal drew disenchanted and previously apathetic youth into politics and to join the Bibeksheel Nepali Party in 2013.&nbsp; Thapa was the pioneer of alternative politics in Nepal, and was leading a youth force long before the GenZ became synonymous with Nepal’s September Storm. He mentored and guided social activists who are today influential youth leaders engaged in non-traditional politics. “Ujwal Thapa, with his entrepreneurial spirit, wanted to address people’s pain-points, and believed that activism was the starting point to alternative politics,” explains <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-loses-rare-purpose-driven-leader">Ashutosh Tiwari</a>, former member of Bibeksheel Sajha party. “He sought to build confidence, motivate, and build a community for young people, which drew a lot of people into Bibeksheel.” He adds: “ And while people might say that Bibeksheel never got big, that was never its point. Its function was to be an early talent incubator, which is what it did as evident by the result of this election.” Thapa died in 2021 of complications related to Covid-19, and Bibeksheel had two mergers with Rabindra Mishra’s Sajha Party before being permanently dissolved in 2021. But many of its idealistic members joined Rabi Lamichhane’s RSP, formed just four months before the 2022 federal election. Such was the groundswell of support for change that the RSP became the fourth-largest in Parliament. In 2017, Ranju Neupane (then Ranju Darshana) was the youngest mayoral candidate for Kathmandu at age 21, and contested the federal election in 2022. Pukar Bam himself lost the 2022 election in Kathmandu-1 as an independent.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260313120348_6302a9b534f57191d9a2cb2c31b31449873c6cc27d375344a248dd90847921dd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260313120348_6302a9b534f57191d9a2cb2c31b31449873c6cc27d375344a248dd90847921dd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1729" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="The RSP's activist DNA"> <figcaption>Photo: SOCIAL MEDIA</figcaption> </figure>  Sashmit Pokharel also ran an unsuccessful campaign as an independent candidate in Kathmandu during the 2022 provincial election. Later, he was a member of the City Planning Commission under Balendra Shah when he was elected mayor of Kathmandu in 2022.&nbsp; Last week, the RSP swept the election with a supermajority of 182 seats in Parliament. Voters placed their trust in the party and its leaders to steer Nepal in a new direction after the youth unrest in September.&nbsp; In many ways, Nepal’s youth have decided, just as Ujwal Thapa once did, that enough is enough with corruption, malgovernance, nepotism and dynastic politics.&nbsp; In the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-man-who-shook-our-minds">documentary</a> about his life, Dimag Ghochne Manche, released earlier this year, some RSP nominees who previously worked with and were mentored by Thapa spoke of the impact he had on their lives, career, and activism. Among them is Biraj Bhakta Shrestha, former minister of Youth and Sports who is now a second time RSP parliamentarian. “I tell everybody that if it hadn’t been for Ujwal Dai, I would not have gotten into politics,” he says in the film.&nbsp; It would be unfair to attribute all the success of the hard-fought campaigns entirely to Ujwal Thapa’s protégés and former coworkers.&nbsp; But his ethos and vision for Nepal was what inspired them, and will in the coming years be reflected in national politics through the young idealists he mentored. Says Ashutosh Tiwari: “There are many Bibeksheels outside of RSP in constant and open communication with their old friends who have been elected. They will be keeping the lawmakers in check so that they do no stray too far from the values that they grew up with.”

RSP’s activist DNA

The Bell that rang in the new A daughter stands in her family's living room, frantically ringing an actual घण्टी at her father. He is a lifelong Nepali Congress (NC) voter. She tells him his party loyalty is as humiliating as a daughter eloping.&nbsp; He looks visibly defeated, and because of RSP’s landslide sweep in this election, he has no reply. She is not a party member. Nobody told her to do this.&nbsp; Multiply this actual family scene by hundreds of thousands of households across Nepal and you find the reason for the RSP tsunami. Children ringing bells at parents over dinner. Aunties shaking bells at legacy party candidates on their morning walks. Taxi drivers, lifelong UML supporters, cheerfully announcing they have switched.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031014038_096f980a799b4f80118863174ed629680cc6c21b02e226a899ce1dc5268b4b72.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026031014038_096f980a799b4f80118863174ed629680cc6c21b02e226a899ce1dc5268b4b72" data-rendition-name="original" width="364" height="662" loading="lazy" alt="RSP Flag prank"> </figure>  And overseas, Nepalis in Dubai and Doha, Sydney and Seattle, calling home to deliver just one instruction: “चुपचाप &nbsp;घण्टीमा छाप”।&nbsp; How did an election symbol like the Bell jump off a ballot paper and become weaponised for generational shame?&nbsp; The RSP's 2026 campaign is a case study in how a symbol becomes so participatory and instinctive, that citizens start campaigning on behalf of a party they never formally joined. It may look like a cult, but it is a phenomenon no political party in Nepal has ever pulled off. The ghost in the machine&nbsp; The 3-year-old RSP entered the 2026 race without the campaign infrastructure that legacy parties considered essential. It has no sister organisations, no vanguard student unions, no established cadre networks.&nbsp; In a country where ground reach and organisation wins elections, this looked like a fatal handicap. Established parties had spent decades building a top-down machinery: youth wings that mobilise on orders and unions within government. But it was all hollow and manufactured.&nbsp; That is why when the NC or UML posted a policy manifesto, it got barely 200 shares. When a 19-year-old posts an <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/spot-ai-generated-election-videos">AI video on TikTok </a>of Balendra Shah swinging a bell like a Kung Fu Hustle weapon, it gets 5 million views.&nbsp; The RSP’s very absence became its strategic advantage. Without a chain of command for content, every post felt peer-to-peer. Supporters built communities instead of following orders. Network effects took over: one person posts, three friends remix it, their followers adapt it for their own local context, and the message multiplies without a single directive from party headquarters. A TikTok from Kathmandu featuring Balendra Shah gets remixed by someone in Birganj who <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@bhojpuriyasuppor0/video/7596686360111484178?q=bhojpuri%20dub%20balen&amp;t=1773115199365">dubs it in Bhojpuri</a>. A supporter in Pokhara takes the same “अबकि बार बालेन सरकार” audio and films it over footage of the city’s broken road.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031014038_56090217f5b3482fad934c4f76fc872047571b3c86331a4eda1ac19ae389c2fc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026031014038_56090217f5b3482fad934c4f76fc872047571b3c86331a4eda1ac19ae389c2fc" data-rendition-name="original" width="375" height="646" loading="lazy" alt="Balen Bhojpuri remix"> </figure>  A Nepali worker in Dubai films himself shaking his phone at the camera, captioning it “I can't vote but my family can”. The content stays structurally the same (bell + emotion) but the surface changes every time. The format is the constant. The context is the variable. A single post multiplies into a thousand pieces of local content without anyone coordinating it. Legacy parties spent money on reach. RSP's strategy built reach for free, because participation itself was the product. The Bell, blazer and brand&nbsp; Run the sensory test. The UML's Sun symbol is only visual. You see it on a ballot, on a flag. You cannot hear a sun. You cannot perform a &nbsp;sun. Nobody walks into a room and ‘suns’ at an opponent.&nbsp; The NC’s Tree symbol is also only seen. It communicates nothing as a verb. Nobody ‘trees’ the father across the dinner table. Ujyalo Nepal's lightbulb was the most passive symbol of all, it just sits there being always on. The Bell had rare resonance as an election symbol. It is a verb (to ring), a sound (tintinnabulation), a physical action (shaking), and a metaphor (wake-up call). घण्टी is participatory by design. You do not just see it, you perform it.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260310140312_c5580164e1f11a8466f591c4d514420bb5313a34b559554db05364065486c3b7.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260310140312_c5580164e1f11a8466f591c4d514420bb5313a34b559554db05364065486c3b7" data-rendition-name="original" width="368" height="654" loading="lazy" alt="Classroom ghanti NT"> </figure>  It works as a metaphor: wake up. It works as a taunt: we are coming (“हामी आयौँ”). It operates across sensory channels a meme can travel through. The other party symbols are logos. The घण्टी is a multimedia verb in active voice. Poets on the frontline Politics has always been about performance. Murray Edelman wrote decades ago that political actions are symbolic acts: what politicians do matters less than what their actions represent.&nbsp; Guy-Ernest Debord argued that spectacle replaces lived experience. But the stage has changed. The social media feed is the new stage, and the algorithm is the casting director. It does not select for policy depth, but for recognisability, emotional charge, and remix potential. Poets have always been at the frontlines of political rupture. The French Revolution had its pamphleteers. The Bolsheviks had Mayakovsky. The Black Panthers had Gil Scott-Heron. Nepal's own political history is full of writers who paid for their words with prison or exile.&nbsp; Rap is rhythm and poetry. Balen Shah did not cross from entertainment into politics, his art was always political. “सडकबालक" in 2012 was already a protest song. The diss tracks against corruption were manifestos set to beat.&nbsp; So, if घण्टी was the sound, Balen was the voice. Supporters rang Bells to perform, projecting their hopes on Balen. One is participatory (anyone can ring it), the other is aspirational (representing what you want the country to become). Together, they form a complete symbolic system: an action and an icon, a thing you do, and a person you believe in. Both are algorithm-native. The sunglasses are instantly recognisable in a thumbnail at any size. The bell sound action is identifiable within half a second of a video starting. The confrontational attitude generates the emotional charge that the algorithm rewards.&nbsp; Balen was already trained in the language of the algorithm: hooks, rhythm, timing, and audience retention. While legacy politicians are just now trying to learn the language of the algorithm, Balen grew up speaking it. The folk song brand kit: The slogans wrote themselves. While legacy politicians are just now trying to learn the language of the algorithm, Balen has grown up speaking it. The folk song brand kit The slogans wrote themselves. “चुपचाप &nbsp;घण्टीमा छाप” spread through tea shops and bus parks like a folk proverb. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-ai-generated-election">AI-generated Mahabharat edits</a> positioned Balendra Shah as a warrior-hero fighting K P Oli in golden armour.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031014038_cd7fbb8b4a97628757977b55d1244b192c233566dad268e894c7132d16cf180c.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2026031014038_cd7fbb8b4a97628757977b55d1244b192c233566dad268e894c7132d16cf180c" data-rendition-name="original" width="369" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Ghanti Chhap NT"> </figure>  The entire package, partly by accident, partly by instinct, was built to be remixed. Every element is modular: the bell, the sunglasses, the slogan, the attitude. Take any piece and make your own version. Like a ‘Deusi re” song, the melody is fixed, everyone knows it, but anyone can change the words to fit their occasion and mood. It survives across generations precisely because no one controls it.&nbsp; The घण्टी ecosystem works the same way. The melody is fixed: the bell, the sound, the slogan, the sunglasses, the attitude. But the lyrics can be anyone’s. Shoot it in your neighborhood. Dub it in your language. Film your grandmother's reaction. Set it to your local context. That's why it spread faster than any IT cell could manufacture.&nbsp; The generational pincer The standard narrative is that digital movements stay digital, and that memes are a GenZ thing. RSP broke both assumptions. Its content operation executed a pincer movement across generations, capturing not just the youth vote but used youth as a delivery mechanism into households where no party organiser could reach. The Generational Pincer Flowchart Three vectors of pressure, all converging on the same target: the living room and the dinner table, where votes in Nepal are actually decided. Downward: children trolling parents by ringing bells at dinner, turning family meals into campaign arenas. A bell rings as a prank, then as a joke, then as a political statement. By the third night, it's not funny anymore. It's a conversation.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260310140316_446e465f60994532e53b1786368dd025e9ad99a387b4121493f8826c46921cb7.png" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20260310140316_446e465f60994532e53b1786368dd025e9ad99a387b4121493f8826c46921cb7" data-rendition-name="original" width="364" height="669" loading="lazy" alt="Ghanti prank"> </figure>  Lateral: the diaspora pipeline. Nepalis in Australia, the Gulf, Japan, could not vote, but they turned every Viber call home into a campaign touchpoint.&nbsp; Upward: the bell pressured power itself. No RSP organiser gets a meeting with a UML ward chairman or a NC MP. But those people go home. And at home, they have teenagers, nieces, nephews, and staff whose kids are on TikTok.&nbsp; A party boss's son rings a bell at dinner and asks uncomfortable questions. A NC donor's daughter shares RSP content on her Instagram story, visible to her father's entire social circle. No political structure, no matter how hierarchical, is sealed off from its own household. The bell did not need to breach the gates of Singha Durbar, it walked in through the kitchen window. The result crossed every demographic line analysts thought was fixed. Memes didn't just stay in the feed. They colonised the living room, the kitchen, the long-distance phone call, the taxi ride. Content nobody commissioned&nbsp; What the RSP's organic content looked less like a political campaign and more like a football fan club. People were not posting because they were told to. They were posting because they belonged. Trace the trends as they accumulated: <ul> <li>“<a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@rameshmahto065/video/7610784878174424338?q=chup%20chap%20ghanti%20chap&amp;t=1773115568686">चुपचाप &nbsp;घण्टीमा छाप</a>” started as a TikTok post, then showed up on motorcycle stickers, WhatsApp statuses, AI-remixed songs, and in tea-shop conversation as a folk proverb.</li> <li><a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@rajjimond_18/video/7612570510508969236?q=ma%20ta%20balen%20ko%20fan&amp;t=1773115129539">Original songs composed by supporters</a>, not the party, gained millions of views. People danced to them at rallies and in the streets. People at polling booths created TikToks to RSP anthems to show their support.</li> <li>AI spectacle videos of Balen as a Mahabharat hero, filmy dialogue, stylised Nepal flag. Slapstick clips hitting 200K+ likes and 5M views. All made by random accounts, none traceable to party infrastructure.</li> <li>Supporters built Bell apps and websites on their own. One site, <a href="https://ghanti.website">ghanti.website</a>, was registered by a random supporter in January. Open it on your phone, shake it side to side, and it rings. Within weeks, crowds of supporters were walking through neighborhoods shaking their phones in unison, producing a wall of digital bell sound.</li> <li>The intimate content. A husband-wife vlog filmed inside a car, casually discussing what a lawmaker should actually do. Just two people talking, and it resonated more than any campaign ad.</li> </ul> None of this was centrally coordinated. Parties across Nepal spent money on polished graphics that looked like professional advertisements. RSP supporters spent nothing and made content that felt like conversation. The algorithm doesn't reward production value, it rewards emotional resonance. And nothing resonated more than the feeling that you, personally, could participate in this movement without anyone's permission. Now what? The RSP has a supermajority. The Bell rang louder than anyone predicted. But a movement built on open-source energy now has to deliver closed-source results: budgets, legislation, diplomacy, institutional reform. Balen built his brand by bypassing institutions, Prime Minister Balendra Shah has to run them. He communicated through Facebook posts and rap lyrics. Now he needs to communicate with India, China, and multilateral lenders.&nbsp; His midnight F-bomb post, deleted within 30 minutes but screenshotted by thousands, showed both his appeal (unfiltered authenticity) and his risk (unfiltered impulsiveness). The question is not whether the bell rang loud enough. It obviously did. The question is what happens when the supporters who posted without being asked start expecting results they did not specify. When the meme energy that won living rooms has to translate into parliamentary committees.&nbsp; For decades, the promise of democracy was that people choose their leaders. What RSP's campaign revealed is something more uncomfortable: in the age of the algorithm and remixable content, people do not just choose their leaders.&nbsp; They build the campaign, write the slogans, produce the content, convert their own families, and then show up to vote for the movement they made with their own hands. The party becomes a container for energy it didn't create and can't fully control.&nbsp; That's either the most democratic thing that's ever happened in Nepal, or the most dangerous. It might be both.

Nobody ran the campaign. That is why it worked.

Mamata Kumari Yadav was born just before her father passed his high school exam on his second attempt. Which is why Ram Kewal Ray thinks his daughter brings good luck. Mamata is now a government civil servant, and has three sisters and a younger brother. All are doing well in their professions: one is a doctor at the Army Hospital, another has an MSc in Microbiology, and the other is working in Australia after finishing her MPh. Her brother, an engineering student, is in Kathmandu. “It was all because our parents prioritised education that we did so well in life,” says Mamata. Instead of being woken up to do household chores or work on the family farm, they were encouraged to finish their homework first. While Ram showed his daughters the way and encouraged them to study, it was Sanjeev Karn, a primary school teacher at a school near their home, who motivated them to do well. On International Women's Day, the story of Mamata and her sisters is an inspiring account of dedication, hard work and good guidance.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260309070332_e15e07735cf958367ccf7457f17b181ca168def7d3c7cf01a6d1fc76559e1422.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260309070332_e15e07735cf958367ccf7457f17b181ca168def7d3c7cf01a6d1fc76559e1422" data-rendition-name="original" width="873" height="980" loading="lazy" alt="The Girl Dad of Nepal"> <figcaption>Samata, Punam, Kumudini and Mamata, the four accomplished Yadav sisters from Sarlahi</figcaption> </figure>  Boys always came first in class, but that changed when Mamata and her sisters started excelling in their studies. All four sisters consistently ranked first in their classes and became widely known in the community for their performance. “My friend Sanjay Chaudhary was my biggest competition and used to stand second. He is an engineer now. We are still good friends and laugh about how we were rivals,” recalls Mamata. In a school where no girl had previously passed the high school exam with first division, Mamata became the first to do so and set a record that her sisters later followed. Her uncle in Kathmandu called her father Ram Kewal with the news that Mamata had passed in the first division. Overjoyed, her father went to school and bought Fanta for all her teachers in celebration.&nbsp; Mamata went to Chitwan after receiving a scholarship for a health assistant course. Although her school in Sarlahi was Nepali-medium, she was not able to speak the language properly and felt more comfortable using Maithili. In the new environment, she struggled with language and confidence.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260309070324_030cd8d2bd9eb6334b5dac6f402253a582e4f3c64d03ef820327935b6dd2346e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260309070324_030cd8d2bd9eb6334b5dac6f402253a582e4f3c64d03ef820327935b6dd2346e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="The Girl Dad of Nepal"> <figcaption>Mamata in Sarlahi with her siblings and father when she was young</figcaption> </figure>  She was surprised to learn that Maithili is not spoken all over Nepal. The course was demanding, the textbooks were in English, the student community was diverse, and academic expectations were high. But Mamata began building friendships and confidence. Her sisters later joined her in Chitwan. Mamata returned to Sarlahi and began working with an organisation as a counsellor on sexually transmitted infections. It was her first job, and was proud to be able to support her father. Her second job with a non-profit required field visits across Sarlahi district, so she bought her own second-hand scooter.&nbsp; “Some neighbours did not approve that my parents gave me so much freedom, but they did not pay much heed to such warnings or gossip,” she says. Seeking stability she prepared for the civil service exam for auxiliary health worker position and was stationed in Sindhupalchok. When her father came to drop her off, being used to flat land he was a bit nervous about the steep mountains and 90-minute commute on foot. But he was proud to hear her patients call her ‘doctor’. Later, Mamata transferred back to her home district of Sarlahi.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260309070324_2a91efea2735ba33b6e7945d46ce1c8c8f014679f14909829be3247f68619f78.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260309070324_2a91efea2735ba33b6e7945d46ce1c8c8f014679f14909829be3247f68619f78" data-rendition-name="original" width="977" height="965" loading="lazy" alt="The Girl dad of Nepal"> <figcaption>Mamata Kumari Yadav</figcaption> </figure>  On a work trip to Kathmandu, on her family's recommendation she met a young man who was pursuing a master’s degree in engineering. Their first meeting was at a cafe in the presence of her brother. She found him simple, gentle, and committed to his studies, qualities that resonated with her own personality.&nbsp; “We got married, and my parents did not have to invest in dowry for me and my sisters because they had invested in us,” recalls Mamata, who then became a health post in-charge in Lalitpur. Following administrative restructuring, she found herself reporting to juniors, which limited her sense of growth. She then decided to prepare for the civil service exams in administration. Coming from a health background, the syllabus was unfamiliar and broad. Her first attempt taken without much preparation was unsuccessful, a first failure ever for Mamata.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260309070328_19fa4ca6fde0d8a9311116c64302eddc08f22280632fc16a83c489194ef06120.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260309070328_19fa4ca6fde0d8a9311116c64302eddc08f22280632fc16a83c489194ef06120" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="722" loading="lazy" alt="The Girl Dad of Nepal"> <figcaption>Seeing off her sister Samata who studied MPH under the AusAID Scholarship</figcaption> </figure>  By this time, she had a son and the exam took a back seat for two years while managing her health post and raising him. When he turned two, she sent her son to Sarlahi, where her mother Phul Kumari took care of him so she could focus on her studies. This time, she passed. She became the first from her family in a government administrative position. After gaining enough experience, she aims to go back to the Madhes to serve in government positions as an honest bureaucrat. Her parents continue as they always have. Phul Kumari takes care of the household while Ram Kewal runs a pharmacy and tends to the farm back in Sarlahi. &nbsp; “We daughters owe a lot to our parents because our peers were never given the kinds of opportunities we had,” says Mamata. “They were married young and now have adult children. There is nothing girls cannot do if given the right guidance and opportunities.”

The Girl Dad of Nepal

Amidst the euphoria in Nepal about the RSP’s landslide victory, the party’s future government, possibly led by Balendra Shah will plunge headlong into an energy and economic crisis sparked by the war in West Asia. Nepal gets all its diesel, petrol, gas and aviation fuel from India and lacks a strategic stockpile to buffer against shortages. The United States has unsanctioned Russian crude oil to India for one month, but India will only export refined petroleum products to Nepal after meeting its own domestic demand. As it is, India has only 10 days of stockpile of cooking gas and it is giving preference to household use. Energy experts say new oil and gas supplies from Russia and elsewhere will take another month to arrive at Indian ports. “This conflict didn’t develop overnight, yet we did nothing to augment our reserves. Clearly, we didn’t manage procurement anticipating supply disruptions,” says economist Pushkar Bajracharya. The conflict has escalated, seriously disrupting global petroleum supplies. Nearly 20% of the world’s oil and gas moves out of the Strait of Hormuz which is now blocked. The Persian Gulf makes up most of the oil and liquified natural gas supplied to Japan (75%), India (50%) and China (38%). Crude oil prices have nearly doubled to $100 a barrel this week.&nbsp; “This crisis is only going to intensify, so in the short term, it means fuel prices will increase as will the cost of goods and services,” adds Bajracharya. “This doesn’t bode well for the new government, especially when people have such high expectations from it.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260315020356_e9f97cc4e8a41bab08fb9c318be887a7eef5ac674326a9a1c878fd80109c3ec7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260315020356_e9f97cc4e8a41bab08fb9c318be887a7eef5ac674326a9a1c878fd80109c3ec7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1315" height="801" loading="lazy" alt="Strait of Hormuz NT"> </figure>  Fuel stoppages from India have happened before, notably during the 2015 Blockade. But Nepal could be better placed this time to cushion the shock because of the proliferation of battery-operated vehicles, and electrification of household cooking to some extent. “The increase in electric vehicles provides some relief, but it is not enough,” says energy economist and former Water Resources Minister Dipak Gyawali. “Most critical services still run on diesel, and they cannot be replaced overnight.”&nbsp; Nepal’s expanding road network means diesel and petrol consumption is also increasing. If the war drags on, there will be a critical shortage of aviation fuel that could also hurt tourism at the start of the trekking and mountaineering season. There is already a nationwide shortage of cooking gas which is used by 62% of Nepali households. &nbsp; The fuel crisis will have a knock-on effect on the economy which the RSP government will have to tackle on an emergency footing as soon as it comes into office. The priority would be to cap fuel prices with subsidies, control hoarding, and in the longer term expedite the switch to electricity for transportation and cooking.&nbsp; MONEY IN The other impact will be on jobs in West Asia and remittances. Nearly half the $11 billion a year Nepalis send home every year comes from West Asian countries. Nepal’s hard currency reserves have hit a record high $21.09 billion, but that cash will be of no use if there is no fuel to buy. A sharp drop in remittances due to the collapse of the economies of the Gulf states if the war is prolonged will have a multiplier impact particularly on Nepalis' household expenses and the country’s economy in general. This in turn will have a knock-on effect on investment, and affect the RSP government’s main agenda which is to create jobs at home. The vicious cycle will then mean that more Nepalis will want to migrate for overseas jobs, but options in the Gulf may not be available. The RSP’s ministers in government will have to come up with innovative ways to re-integrate Nepalis forced to return because they lose their jobs, or for safety reasons. There are nearly 2 million Nepalis across the UAE, Qatar, Kuwait and Saudi Arabia, and another 7,000 mainly women caregivers in Israel. “Other than the impact on remittances and the economy, there could be the additional challenge of rescuing over 2 million Nepalis in West Asia if it comes to that,” says Bajracharya. “We don’t have the resources, and we will have to rely on India’s logistical help.” The RSP’s main vote bank was among global Nepalis, who could not cast &nbsp;ballots themselves but influenced families and friends back home to choose the party. Social media was abuzz with slogans that promoted how choosing the RSP would bring their children back home from the Gulf. “The RSP got a majority, and that’s a good thing but voters came together to oppose UML, NC and the Maoists. But there is no clear ideology or philosophy, so while their slogan to bring Nepalis back from the Gulf sounds nice, what would they come back to?” asks Gyawali. The Nepali diaspora in the Gulf that influenced the electorate so effectively will now be looking at how the government it helped get to power in Kathmandu will help as war engulfs the region.&nbsp; There is an almost unrealistically high expectation of the RSP, and the party may not even get the customary 100-day honeymoon period. The cabinet could be put together easily enough, but the bureaucracy, judiciary, police, and the Upper House are all populated by loyalists of the old parties. Despite bad blood, the RSP will have to work together with all parties in the face of the crisis unleashed by the war. And Nepal’s politicised foreign policy must be galvanised to deal with the crisis.