Kathmandu, February 17 2026

CK Peela, our friendly neighbourhood Indian geopolitical guru, has once again descended from his Kathmandu balcony – probably with a fresh cup of masala chai and a copy of The Hindu – to deliver another TED Talk on why we Nepalese are too dumb to run our own house. In his latest dispatch, he calls the growing roar for monarchy’s return “nostalgia” and “feudal ghosts.”

Brother Peela, if this is nostalgia, then your endless lectures on our “democratic renewal” are straight out of the 1950s Delhi durbar manual titled How to Keep the Gorkhali in His Place. The man writes as if he’s Nepal’s unpaid life coach, when in reality he’s just the latest envoy from the southern neighbour who still thinks the 1816 Sugauli Treaty is a suggestion, not full stop. a Let’s talk about what Peela’s imported wisdom conveniently skips. The monarchy was never just a man on a throne. It was the heartbeat of this impossible, vertical country. It was the one thing that made a Rai from Bhojpur and a Thakuri from Jumla feel they belonged to the same story. During Dashain, the king wasn’t some distant ruler – he was the living symbol of the tika that every Nepali forehead received, from the highest lama in Mustang to the lowest metal man in Saptari. The national anthem didn’t praise a party or a constitution; it praised a lineage that had held this fractured land together for 250 years. That wasn’t politics. That was kinship. That was family. And then, in 2008, in a moment of post-Maoist delirium and New Delhi brokered backroom brilliance, we performed the world’s most expensive emotional lobotomy. We removed the heart and replaced it with a committee of 600+ egos.

Eighteen years later, the patient is on life support and still complaining about the surgery. We now have more governments than we have clean drinking water projects. Thirteen prime ministers, countless coalitions, and a world record in political musical chairs. Corruption didn’t vanish; it just got federalized now every province has its own little lootera-in-chief.

The youth are voting with their feet: boarding planes to the Gulf faster than you can say “federalism.” Remittances are our biggest export because dignity at home became a luxury item. The very idea of “Nepali” has been Balkanised into grievance groups. Everyone is a minority now. Everyone is oppressed by everyone else.

The republic turned us from one family into a dysfunctional joint family WhatsApp group – full of forwards, fights, and occasional blockades when someone doesn’t get their share of the daal bhat budget. And this, Mr Peela , is what you call “progress”? The Nepali flags waving at Tribhuvan Airport aren’t being flown by pensioners dreaming of the good old days. They’re being flown by kids who grew up entirely under your beloved republic. Kids who have never seen a king in person but have seen enough of your “republican” circus to know that something fundamental is missing. They want the institution back – not as a ruler, but as the one person in the country who doesn’t have to kiss the ring of a party boss or a foreign diplomat to exist. But of course, that terrifies the scriptwriters in South Block. Because a Nepal that feels whole is a Nepal that’s harder to bully with blockades, harder to lecture with 12- point agreements, and much harder to turn into a convenient buffer zone with a revolving door of pliable prime ministers.

Peela’s warning about “feudal ghosts” is adorable, really. It’s like the guy who burned down your kitchen lecturing you on fire safety. India’s idea of helping Nepal has always been the geopolitical equivalent of your nosy uncle who breaks your TV remote and then offers to fix it – for a small fee and permanent control of the volume button.

The open border cuts both ways, dost. The chaos you helped engineer here doesn’t stay neatly our side. It flows south with the Koshi and the Gandaki – in the form of fake refugees, counterfeit rupees, and frustrated young men who’ve had enough of being treated like junior partners in someone else’s neighborhood. So spare us the sanctimonious editorials, Peela ji. Eighteen years is long enough to admit we made a mistake.

The monarchy may not have been perfect. But it was the one institution that belonged to all of us, not to any party, not to any donor, and certainly not to any foreign capital. Restoring it as a constitutionally recognized, nonexecutive crown isn’t regression. It’s corrective surgery. It’s bringing the heartbeat back to a body that’s been running on adrenaline and Indian advice for nearly two decades. The people are remembering the bond. And no amount of masala-flavored op-eds from Kathmandu balconies is going to make them forget it again.