<img width="640" height="579" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914118/636ba6739c7e80680e073720jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>After having tested positive for SARS-CoV-2 last week, Province 5 <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/covid-19-spreads-closer-to-nepals-ruling-circle/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/covid-19-spreads-closer-to-nepals-ruling-circle/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597803384932000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHOdZFk7-Z7ccItZYE7C86T1GxQAA">elected NCP representative</a> from Banke district, Krishna KC (Namuna), is being treated in Bheri Hospital in Nepalganj. From her hospital bed, KC has spoken out asking Nepalis not to take the virus lightly, and to adopt preventive measures. This comes as Nepal experiences a surge in coronavirus cases with 27,241 confirmed cases, and three more fatalities as of Monday, taking the total to 107. Of these 24 cases were in Banke making the total in the district to 737 and three deaths so far. KC is now recovering, and also pledged on social media to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-first-successful-covid-19-plasma-therapy/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-first-successful-covid-19-plasma-therapy/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597803384932000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGQrsUFnYZ8OzGZvybA1jScZ1uvkA">donate her plasma</a> to other infected people as after being discharged. She dictated this message from her hospital bed:I first started experiencing body pains nearly three weeks ago. I was still attending the provincial assembly in the beginning, but as the pain got worse, I stopped going. I live alone in a rented room in Butwal, and my neighbours started reaching out, even called a masseuse over to lessen the pain. But after experiencing even worse body aches, I decided to leave for my relative’s home on 2 August.My sisters did not think it was coronavirus, and they took care of me, staying in close proximity, and even sleeping in the same room. Soon, I developed a fever and forced myself to visit the hospital. On 8 August they tested me positive for Covid-19.After this, all my symptoms began to match those of other Covid patients. The doctors explained to me that my body aches, loss of appetite, stomach aches, diarrhoea, and fever, were all signs that I was infected. Upon receiving my diagnosis, I immediately updated my Facebook status, alerting everyone who had been in contact with me so that they also self-isolate and take PCR tests. Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-covid-19-deaths-cross-100/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-covid-19-deaths-cross-100/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597803384932000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGonMX1gwWXp_tmCUmFphzQwh3_Fw">Nepal Covid-19 deaths cross 100</a>, Ramu Sapkota<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-police-at-the-frontlines-against-coronavirus/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-police-at-the-frontlines-against-coronavirus/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597803384932000&amp;usg=AFQjCNG_P8sUo9T2T5ts95g_7WHa2H1EHw">Nepal police at the frontlines against Coronavirus</a>, Nepali Times<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/people-please-keep-a-distance/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/people-please-keep-a-distance/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597803384932000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEqU2El-niKvkS-APszbiCDAD8zUw">"People, please keep a distance."</a>, Nepali TimesI hear many people say that it will not happen to them. Some are careless, and mingle in crowds, or don’t wear masks. They think they are immune to the virus, or wrongly believe that even if they do get infected it will be no more than a simple flu or cold. It is this mind-set and complacency that is the root cause behind the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-covid-19-deaths-cross-100/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-covid-19-deaths-cross-100/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597803384932000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGonMX1gwWXp_tmCUmFphzQwh3_Fw">surge of cases throughout the country.</a>Believe me, it is very difficult to recover once infected with this virus. After having first-hand experience and suffering from the illness, I have been on social media trying to warn the public to be more careful. <figure><img width="1082" height="370" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914118/636ba6769c7e80680e073721jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>I have been in hospital for four days now after being diagnosed with COvid-19. My health is getting better. After I recover, I voluntarily allow my convalescent plasma that can be used to treat infected patients. My blood group is B positive.</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="1080" height="328" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914118/636ba6789c7e80680e073722jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> I have not been spared by the global coronavirus pandemic. A PCR test has shown that I am po</figcaption></figure>It is difficult to say where and when I got infected. I did visit <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/with-3rd-covid-19-fatality-nepal-issues-funeral-guideline/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/with-3rd-covid-19-fatality-nepal-issues-funeral-guideline/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597803384932000&amp;usg=AFQjCNH42N092pgUbxGM6rrg2Fj6z7bDBA">Narainapur</a> village of my Banke constituency many times when it became a coronavirus hotspot in May, and there was a lot of movement at the community level even during the lockdown. I inspected the quarantine centre there, but experienced no symptoms at the time. It seems the virus takes time to incubate. I had not visited any affected area or come in contact with people who seemed infected prior to getting the body aches. Furthermore, the masseuse and my sisters who were in close contact with me tested negative for the virus. So there is a great deal of uncertainty about how the virus spreads and who it infects. The best thing is, therefore, to be extra-cautious and not take any chances. I am currently the only coronavirus patient in the isolation ward of Bheri Hospital, and despite the care and attention that I received from the doctors and nurses here, I have realised that the virus drains not only the physical strength of patients but also mentally and emotionally destabilises them. They are separated more than two weeks from family members, it is extremely important for patients to realise and remind themselves that they are not alone. They have to rely on the support of everyone around them, remembering that their families, friends, and relatives are constantly wishing them a swift recovery.  The pandemic hit Nepal relatively late, and much of the infection has spread here from across the border. We must now work not just on prevention, but also in having adequately equipped and staffed hospitals for treatment. I believe that it is incredibly important for hospitals to allow patients to virtually meet and communicate with their families, to obtain mental and emotional support in such a vulnerable condition.

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“Don’t take Covid-19 lightly”

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121112/636b8b5a9c7e80680e06b293jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1830" height="1190"/>In my back yard is an aging apple tree. Moss cloaked and bare, unlikely again to bear its seasonal crop of the green succulents. The last time my children and I picked a juicy ripe one was before my youngest got married under its shade.In its time, it has blessed three unions under the sunshine of different summers, accommodated countless encroachments on its branches during birthday barbecues and withstood the assault of harsh winters and the insult of our benign neglect.Of course, it has grown older and resigned to its fate in the 26 years since we first set eyes on it. The past two weeks, I have looked at it more and more, during my evening ambles around the perimeter of our garden. I have stretched my fingers to touch and pause over its weather beaten bark, for I find something soothing and wise in its silence -- an ancient assurance in its stoop of solitude. I need a lot of that, these days.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/diary-of-a-soul-in-semi-isolation/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Diary of a soul in semi-lockdown</a>, Tashi T SherpaOf recent, much as I want to look at the glass as half full, the grim reality of our worsening pandemic forces a damning realisation that we are literally living in the worst of times. There is nowhere to escape to, no Shangrila of safety. The only possible path to our emancipation lies in a retreat to our own corner. And staying there.In the ensuing weeks since the first numbers trickled in, we have seen our mighty nation state buckling fatally, hopelessly out of sync, and woefully under prepared. With the onslaught in full vicious mode, words like apocalypse and end-of-days have entered our daily discourse. The once vaunted trope of our civic supremacy is being battered by our inability to stem the spread or beat the scourge into submission. Massive death tolls are recorded in most cities across the US. We do not need to believe it because the evidence is being hammered into our consciousness from New York’s daily tally of tragedy.Meanwhile, hope for better days comes, not from some miracle cure or a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/countries-cooperating-to-find-covid-19-cure/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">vaccine</a> but from examples of wise crisis governance, proactive and efficient response systems elsewhere. The rapid ability to group together in a singular mission, the agile harnessing of technology for the hour and a cohesive unity in approach for solutions come from the tiny Asian country of Taiwan and its neighbours of South Korea and Singapore.Lessons in saving lives and the strictures implemented, that we could have learnt from and adopted were ignored in the hubris of wilful ignorance and know it all narcissism. We missed our chance and how dearly we are all paying for this. It is intolerable that we missed the signs, but even more galling is that the chaos and self-serving tactics still prevail within the highest levels. But more on that for another day.The increasing immediacy and painful spike of daily deaths is now numbing our collective minds to read them as statistical blips. The US has already crossed the benchmark of having the highest number of cases and it is growing exponentially by the day. Each day’s announcement portends more ominous days ahead. When will it end? And even more poignantly, how will it end for all of us?If there are any heroes in this infernal scenario, it has to be the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/protecting-those-who-protect-us-from-the-epidemic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">battered health care workers</a>  Without exception, we are filled with unabashed, unbiased admiration and sympathy for all those unsung sentinels of health, the ones in the fearful frontline against the venomous assault of the virus.While we remain safely but grudgingly ensconced in our self-imposed isolation, someone’s sister, daughter, friend, brother, son, father, mother is in the hospitals and makeshift triages, in a never ending mortal combat against an omnipotent invisible enemy. How do you fight a legion that swoops in like unseen mist?But enough of morbid talk and more about the new normal. Our three weeks of self-quarantine have now segued into Day 27. Weekdays have lost their primacy, work no longer seems demandingly urgent, and lazy PJ mornings are no longer just the purview of our weekend. My work outfit is the same as my walking gear which is the same as the heather knit sleepwear on which I spilt my breakfast tchampa. For me, sweat pant grey is the new black.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/home-work-during-the-lockdown/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Home work during the lockdown</a>, Saniaa ShahTime is of the essence they say. And by the way, who is ‘they’? Regardless, I have plenty of that essence now and then some to spare. For someone who once blew a gasket when the office didn’t get populated at the stroke of 8.55am, I’ve become pretty zen about <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/home-work-during-the-lockdown/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Zoom meetings</a> at 11.30am. It’s must be a revelation to my youthful team of digital diligents that the old man has to be reminded twice via texts that the meeting is to start.So without further ado, I zoom in. Sorry, that pun was just waiting.<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/The-winter-of-our-spring,1331" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/The-winter-of-our-spring,1331&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1586673008642000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGxTJMBy-u0uOiTcEI1WXy6o2QB-w">Tashi T Sherpa</a> is Creative Director and CEO of Khangri Sourcing based in Seattle.

Being zen about Zoom

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101156/636b79b79c7e80680e06471bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="434"/><figcaption>Photo: BIKRAM RAI</figcaption></figure>The 19-year-old Nepali student boarded a Qatar Airways flight in Paris on Monday night, and after a brief transit in Doha, landed in Kathmandu on QR652 on Tuesday morning at 10:10AM.At home, she showed no symptoms but within a few days started feeling unwell and had herself examined at the National Public Health Laboratory on Sunday 22 March. The test came positive, and she was immediately admitted into the Sukraraj Tropical and Infectious Disease Hospital in Teku where she is now.The Nepali’s roommate in Paris who had also flown back with her up to Doha was diagnosed with COVID-19 when she reached Vietnam.Read also: <a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/this-is-a-test/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">This is a test</a>, Editorial<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-closes-land-border-with-india-china/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal closes land border with India, China</a>Health Minister Bhanubhakta Dhakal called a press conference at short notice, attended by throngs of reporters (pictured above), which itself violated the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/all-nepal-flights-cancelled-22-31-march/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">government’s own guideline</a> of not allowing assembly of more than 50 people.Dhakal said the student’s family members have all been tested and are in isolation. Health officials said they have also tracked down friends and relatives who had come in contact with the student and have taken nose and throat swabs, and confined them to self-isolation as well.However, Dhakal refused to disclose if passengers seated around the student on both flights, the airport officials and driver from the airport had been traced and contacted. QR650 on 17 March had 158 passengers and 12 crew.“We are trying to track them down and notify them to be tested,” Minister Dhakal said. However health ministry officials disclosed privately that the government had not taken any action yet to inform the airline about her flights, get her seat number on both flights. Passengers on the Paris-Doha flight have by now flown to various parts of the world, and the ones from the Doha-Kathmandu flight have fanned out across Nepal.Read also: <a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-quarantines-passengers-on-singapore-flight/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal quarantines passengers on Singapore flight</a>Information technology expert Rajib Subba says the government should use all the data sources available through geolocation on the mobile telephone network and other methods to contact trace those who could be infected.Subba said: “Nepal has the human resources to make tracking apps like South Korea or Singapore which could help in containing the pandemic.”

Nepal contact tracing 2nd COVID-19 case

“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.