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India’s neighborhood policy is often described in shorthand: “relative decline,” “looking beyond South Asia,” “losing the periphery.” That lens misses something important about the last four years. In Afghanistan and Myanmar, India has been dealing not with normal neighbors but with collapsing or radically transformed states. The question, then, is not whether India has expanded its influence, but whether it has managed to stay engaged, protect its basic interests, and avoid strategic paralysis. On that narrower, but more realistic, metric, India’s record since 2021 in both theaters looks more constructive than the declinist narrative suggests.

Afghanistan is the sharper break. When the Taliban took Kabul in August 2021, India essentially lost a twenty-year investment in the Islamic Republic and had to evacuate its missions. For almost a year, New Delhi kept a formal distance, while routing limited assistance through multilateral channels and the UN. That phase ended in mid-2022. In June 2022, India sent its first official delegation to Kabul under Joint-secretary JP Singh, who met with the acting Foreign Minister, Amir Khan Muttaqi, and reviewed India’s humanitarian projects and security concerns. Shortly afterwards, India deployed a “technical team” to Kabul, re-establishing a minimal diplomatic presence focused on aid delivery and the safety of Indian projects and personnel. 

Humanitarian assistance became the main language of engagement. Between 2021 and 2023, India transported large consignments of wheat, medicines and COVID-19 vaccines to Afghanistan. By mid-2022, New Delhi had already shipped 33,000 metric tonnes of wheat against a commitment of 50,000 MT. Subsequent statements and reports show that this was not a one-off gesture, but a sustained effort: budget documents for 2023–24 earmarked fresh aid for Afghanistan, and Indian officials emphasised that assistance was being coordinated with international agencies to reach ordinary Afghans, despite political complications. 

Shipments of wheat, essential medicines and winter supplies continued through 2023 and 2024, with Indian media framing this as part of a broader humanitarian posture. In 2025, when earthquakes hit western Afghanistan, India again sent emergency consignments of food, tents and medical kits, reinforcing a pattern where India presents itself not as a patron of any faction, but as a consistent responder to Afghan crises.

Alongside aid, there has been a slow but deliberate upgrade of political contact. After the initial 2022 visit, Indian officials made at least two more trips to Kabul; in March 2024, JP Singh again met Muttaqi in Kabul to discuss economic cooperation, including Afghan use of the Chabahar port. In January 2025, Foreign Secretary Vinay Mohan Kwatra met Muttaqi in Dubai, signaling that Afghanistan had been moved back up to the higher levels of India’s diplomatic bandwidth.  

The real inflexion point, though, came in Oct 2025, when Muttaqi finally traveled to New Delhi after the UN Security Council temporarily lifted his travel ban. This was the first visit by a senior Taliban leader to India since 2021; he met External Affairs Minister S Jaishankar for discussions covering trade, health, terrorism and consular issues. During this visit, India announced that its technical mission in Kabul would be upgraded to a full embassy, effectively restoring normal diplomatic status, while still insisting that recognition of the Taliban government would depend on its internal conduct, particularly on issues such as women’s rights.

If you line up that chronology, from complete withdrawal in 2021 to humanitarian re-entry in 2022, to working-level political contact in 2022–24, to foreign minister-level engagement and full embassy restoration in 2025. At each step, New Delhi has been careful to frame its actions as support for the Afghan people rather than endorsement of the regime. But it has also accepted that a neighborhood policy that pretends the Taliban do not exist would only hand Afghanistan entirely to Pakistan, China, and Iran. In that limited sense, India’s Afghan engagement since 2021 appears relatively successful: New Delhi has managed to extricate itself from strategic irrelevance without compromising all of its normative positions.

Myanmar presents a unique challenge: not regime change, but a state fragmenting under the weight of a civil war. The February 2021 coup overthrew the elected National League for Democracy government and restored direct military rule, pushing the country into a nationwide conflict between the junta, multiple Ethnic Armed Organisations (EAOs), and the People’s Defence Forces (PDFs) aligned with the national unity government. Over four years later, studies such as the International Crisis Group (ICG)’s 2025 briefing argue that the junta still controls the capital and some urban nodes but is losing ground across much of the periphery, where armed groups now hold extensive territory and run parallel administrations.

For India, this is not a distant issue. The conflict washes directly onto a 1,643-kilometer border, feeding refugee flows, arms trafficking and insurgent sanctuary, and complicating major connectivity projects like the India-Myanmar-Thailand Trilateral Highway and the Kaladan Multimodal Transit Transport Project. India’s first instinct after the coup was conservative: to maintain lines of communication with the State Administration Council in Naypyitaw, privately push for restraint, and try to insulate border cooperation and infrastructure projects from the turmoil. That approach reflected habits built over decades of working with Myanmar’s military on counter-insurgency along the North-East frontier and on connectivity to Southeast Asia. At the same time, New Delhi avoided endorsing the coup. Its public statements called for the restoration of democracy and the release of political prisoners, but unlike Western capitals, it did not cut off engagement.

As the conflict deepened and armed resistance spread into Chin, Sagaing, Kachin and Rakhine, that one-dimensional strategy became untenable. New Delhi has gradually moved toward a multi-vector engagement. On one track, it has continued to host and engage with junta-linked actors; for example, in November 2024, India received a delegation of Myanmar military officers and allied politicians for discussions on federalism and conflict resolution. On another front, India has begun to engage with the opposition and ethnic groups. In September 2024, New Delhi quietly invited political and military opponents of the junta, including representatives of anti-regime EAOs, to a seminar on constitutionalism and federalism, an unprecedented step for a state that has usually treated the Myanmar military as its primary counterpart.

The ICG’s 2025 analysis goes further, arguing that Indian officials have established regular channels with several border-based insurgent groups to manage cross-border security and maintain some leverage in territories the junta no longer controls. A striking example of this adaptive posture is found in the realm of critical minerals. In 2025, Reuters reported that India was exploring a rare-earth supply arrangement with the Kachin Independence Army, which controls a key rare-earth mining hub on the Chinese border, having pushed out junta-aligned forces. The Ministry of Mines has reportedly requested that Indian Rare Earths Limited and a private firm collect and test samples from KIA-held mines. This is highly unusual: India is contemplating a resource partnership not with a recognized government but with a non-state armed group that happens to control the ground. It tells you something about how far Myanmar’s internal map has shifted, and how India is willing to adjust when rigid state-centric instruments no longer work.

At the same time, India is tightening the formal border architecture in response to the spillover of Myanmar’s war into the Northeast. In 2024, the Home Ministry announced plans to fence the entire India–Myanmar border and review the Free Movement Regime that allowed hill communities to cross relatively freely within a limited radius. The aim is to reduce the flow of armed fighters, narcotics and illicit arms that have been feeding violence in Manipur and elsewhere. A Reuters investigation in late 2024 documented how Indian militants who had taken refuge in Myanmar and fought in its civil war were now returning with sophisticated weapons, aggravating ethnic conflict in Manipur. From New Delhi’s vantage point, border management is not a narrow policing issue but a core component of its neighborhood strategy in the face of Myanmar’s internal disintegration.

Put together, India’s Myanmar policy today has three layers: continued engagement with the junta to keep projects and basic state-to-state mechanisms alive; calibrated outreach to anti-regime forces where they are the de facto authorities, especially along the border and in resource-rich zones; and a hardening of its own border in response to security externalities. None of this is pretty, and it does not resolve Myanmar’s crisis. However, it has allowed India to retain access and negotiating rights across the spectrum of actors, rather than placing all its bets on a regime that no longer controls the country it claims to rule.

A broader assessment of India’s neighborhood policy must therefore account for the conditions under which diplomacy is being conducted. Afghanistan and Myanmar are not ordinary neighbors; both are undergoing profound state fragility, contested sovereignties and intense external penetration. In such environments, the conventional metrics of influence, regime change, policy alignment or political stabilisation are neither realistic nor analytically useful. A more appropriate benchmark is whether India has been able to retain strategic access, preserve essential equities and construct channels of engagement that prevent its marginalization. Judged against this criterion, India’s post-2021 approach appears less a story of retreat and more an example of calibrated adaptation to structural volatility.

In Afghanistan, India has established a minimal yet resilient diplomatic presence, centered on humanitarian assistance and selective diplomatic engagement, while maintaining a deliberate distance from formal recognition. This approach has enabled New Delhi to remain part of the evolving regional conversation on Afghanistan, at a time when the distribution of influence is fluid and subject to shifts in Taliban-Pakistan and Taliban-China relations. In Myanmar, India has moved beyond a strictly state-centric posture and acknowledged the empirical reality of dispersed authority. Its engagement with the junta, border-based ethnic organizations and local administrative actors reflects an attempt to craft a multilayered diplomatic strategy suited to a fragmented political landscape, while simultaneously protecting its own border stability and connectivity ambitions.

These approaches do not resolve the underlying crises in either country, nor do they eliminate the normative tensions that accompany engagement with contested authorities. However, they do illustrate a broader transformation in India’s neighborhood policy: a willingness to operate within imperfect political conditions, to utilize multiple diplomatic vectors simultaneously, and to safeguard long-term interests through pragmatic, rather than maximalist, means. In that sense, India’s conduct in Afghanistan and Myanmar demonstrates that constructive engagement remains possible even in the most inhospitable corners of its neighbourhood, provided the goals are recalibrated to match the constraints of the regional environment.

The author is a PhD candidate at the School of International Studies, JNU, New Delhi

China’s Fourth Plenary Session of the 20th Central Committee and the Xi–Trump meeting in Busan took place only days apart. On paper, one was a domestic political gathering and the other a diplomatic encounter on the sidelines of a multilateral summit. They were not linked in official statements, and neither attracted feverish global commentary. Yet, taken together, they offer a glimpse into how Beijing is adapting to a complex international environment.

Fourth plenums traditionally focus on governance questions, party discipline and institutional direction rather than dramatic policy launches. This session followed that pattern. The messaging centered on maintaining steady political control, ensuring policy continuity and fostering cautious confidence. It suggested a leadership that sees no benefit in abrupt moves, either domestically or externally, at a time of uneven economic recovery and external pushback. Three themes stood out.

First, the reaffirmation of party-led governance was not performative symbolism. In Beijing’s worldview, political cohesion and long-term planning are assets in a period marked by technological disruption and geopolitical frictions. The leadership continues to believe that diffuse decision-making would leave China vulnerable to external pressure. Second, economic language emphasised pragmatic adjustment. China did not deny its financial challenges, ranging from corrections in the property sector to demographic shifts. However, rather than promising a sudden return to high-speed growth, the plenum signalled an acceptance that the next phase will be steadier, more industrial policy-driven, and oriented around the security of supply chains and financial stability. 

Third, technology remains the core battleground. US-led restrictions on advanced chips, export controls and scrutiny of Chinese tech companies have clearly been internalized. The Plenum’s language underscored ongoing efforts to reduce reliance on foreign tech inputs and build resilience in critical sectors. This is not isolationism; it is preparation for a world where access to advanced technologies is increasingly politicized. None of this was presented as a crisis response. It reflected a system that was preparing for long-term competition, rather than one that was overwhelmed by it.

The Xi-Trump meeting in Busan fit into this context of calibrated pacing. The discussions did not produce groundbreaking agreements, nor were they expected to. Tariffs, agricultural purchases and fentanyl precursors figured in public remarks. The more telling aspect, however, was tone—measured, practical and devoid of the sharpness seen in earlier phases of US–China confrontation. For Beijing, arriving in Busan after the plenum mattered. It allowed Xi to approach talks from a position of internal consolidation, not defensive anxiety. For Washington, under a Trump return that values transactional gestures, a calmer exchange made tactical sense too.

The meeting illustrated a shared recognition: neither country benefits from sustained escalation at this moment. China is navigating an economic transition and rebuilding confidence, while the United States is focused on industrial reshoring, alliance repair, and domestic political contests. Strategic rivalry continues, especially in technology and security, but uninterrupted confrontation is costly, and both sides appear willing to slow the tempo. This was not détente. It was a way to test whether channels can stay open without implying softness.

If one looks at global alignments, markets and diplomatic behavior since these events, the picture that emerges is not sudden stability but a more predictable cadence. Supply chains are diversifying, not breaking. Export controls evolve, but trade persists. Security partnerships deepen, yet complete economic decoupling remains improbable. The US–China rivalry remains as real as it was a few years ago. It simply appears to be settling into a slower, steadier phase one, where each side tests its structural endurance. This rhythm benefits nobody spectacularly, but it also harms nobody dramatically. It suits countries that want time to build capacity, especially powers striving for strategic autonomy, including India and the European Union. 

For New Delhi, the Plenum-Busan period did not signal a change in thaw with China or a weakening Western alignment. Instead, it reinforced an approach that India had already adopted: steady engagement with the West on critical technology and defense, alongside measured management of the China relationship to avoid avoidable shocks.

India’s border concerns with China have not lessened. Military deployments remain robust; infrastructure development in border regions continues. At the same time, diplomatic channels remain open, and senior-level military talks continue. People-to-people and business-to-business ties have also begun growing in the past few months, signalling that both countries are understanding and navigating turbulent geopolitical spaces. 

India is not repositioning away from the United States. Strategic cooperation on supply chains, advanced manufacturing, space and maritime security has only deepened. The expectation that any external partner, even the United States, will perfectly align with India’s priorities has faded. Statements from Washington after Operation Sindoor served as a reminder that every partnership has its chafing points. So, India is doing what rising powers with long memories do: building capability, banking partnerships, and keeping options open. Instead of dramatic swings, we see incremental strengthening in areas such as semiconductor policy, defence co-production, digital infrastructure exports, energy corridors, and tighter coordination with Europe and the Indo-Pacific. 

Ultimately, neither the Fourth Plenum nor the Busan meeting reveals the future. What they tell us, instead, is how major powers behave when they don’t fully trust the world and aren't entirely sure of themselves, either. China tightened its seams before it stepped onto the diplomatic stage. The United States played along, not because it suddenly believes in strategic harmony, but because endless confrontation is exhausting and expensive. And India, watching both, is quietly filing away lessons. Nobody is “winning” here; nobody is collapsing either. This is a moment of political adulthood where states learn to live with discomfort, ambiguity, and the slow grind of structural rivalry. It’s not dramatic, and that’s precisely the point. The future is being shaped in paperwork, quiet conversations and long-term investments, not in summit fireworks.

For India and the region, the task is not to predict which way the wind blows, but to build so that whichever way it blows, you don’t get swept off your feet. Great power politics right now is less a game of grand moves, more like distance running: steady breathing, keeping pace, occasionally accelerating, never collapsing from your own adrenaline. In the years ahead, we can expect headlines, crises, breakthroughs, and provocations again. But these quieter phases matter too.

The author is a PhD candidate at the School of International Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University. He is also a life member of the International Center for Peace Studies

In addition to highlighting the long-simmering generational resentment in the nation, the GenZ protests in Sept 2025 brought about one of the worst economic shocks in Nepal’s recent history. What started as youth-led protests against political stagnation, unemployment, and corruption swiftly descended into violence, resulting in dozens of fatalities, thousands of injuries, and an enormous financial loss. The actual question now is whether Nepal can withstand these shocks without spiralling into more severe cycles of instability. The protests’ financial toll is already apparent: direct damages totalling billions of rupees, a decline in investor confidence, a contraction in essential industries, and an increase in unemployment. These losses, if ignored, will worsen the very circumstances that pushed young Nepalis onto the streets, raising the possibility of future unrest.

The most apparent and agonizing toll is the human one. Over two thousand people were injured during the protests, and at least seventy-four people were killed nationwide, including protesters and security personnel. Public trust in the state’s ability to maintain law and order was broken and prison breakouts contributed to the growing sense of lawlessness. The less obvious but no less terrible tale of economic devastation, however, is hidden behind these headlines. According to estimates from economists, the collateral damage caused by the protests is approximately Rs 3trn, which is nearly half of the nation’s GDP and equal to the government’s budget for almost one and a half fiscal years. The foundation of Nepal’s economy, the tourism industry, has been especially severely affected. According to tourism officials, the industry lost approximately Rs 25bn during and immediately following the protests, as thousands of cancellations destroyed what was supposed to be a prosperous season. With reported losses exceeding Rs 25bn and damage exceeding Rs 8bn at the Hilton in Kathmandu alone, the hotel industry has been disproportionately affected. These numbers are more than just statistics; they reflect the closure of businesses, unpaid workers, and a decline in Nepal’s reputation as a safe and secure travel destination abroad. When order is restored, the effects won’t go away; damage to a tourism industry's reputation may persist for years, discouraging subsequent tourism and investment in associated infrastructure.

The entire private sector has also suffered greatly. An estimated 15,000 jobs were directly impacted, and businesses reported losses of about Rs 80bn. These new job losses run the risk of escalating the cycle of economic despair in a nation already beset by pervasive underemployment and a significant reliance on foreign migration for employment. In addition to undermining household incomes, unemployment increases outbound migration and strengthens Nepal's reliance on remittances from abroad. Due to business closures or reductions during the unrest, nearly 10,000 Nepalis reportedly lost their jobs within a short period. This weakens the very demographic advantage Nepal should use for development, exacerbating an already precarious situation where the young, skilled labour force sees greater prospects abroad than at home.

The losses extended beyond small businesses and the tourism sector. Due to increased consumer demand, the automobile industry, which has been one of the most dynamic in recent years, sustained damages totalling about Rs 15bn. Along with interrupted imports and supply chains, the destruction of showrooms and warehouses runs the risk of slowing down a market that was previously growing. Consumer confidence and purchasing power might take some time to recover, even with the reconstruction of physical infrastructure, particularly as inflationary pressures increase and household incomes remain stagnant. This illustrates how instability undermines long-term growth prospects: years of gradual progress in industries that reflect the burgeoning middle-class economy can be reversed by a single wave of violence.

The cumulative effect of these losses has negatively impacted the macroeconomic outlook for Nepal. The economy was expected to grow by 3.5 to 4 percent this fiscal year, but growth forecasts have since been drastically reduced; some economists now predict growth of less than one percent. Others note that if reconstruction is postponed or funded carelessly, Nepal might experience complete contraction. According to one estimate, the protests caused losses of $22.5bn, or nearly half of Nepal’s GDP. As a result, the GenZ protests would rank among the most severe economic shocks to South Asia during a period of peace in recent memory, in addition to being a disruptive episode. This magnitude of loss runs the risk of igniting a fiscal and monetary crisis for a nation still recuperating from the pandemic and having trouble managing its debt.

The state is already feeling the financial strain. The government has been forced to reallocate funds for increased security spending, emergency relief, and compensation for the families of the victims. The fiscal deficit has widened as a result of the collapse of tourism and commerce revenues. Nepal may have to borrow more money as a result of declining revenues and growing debt. However, borrowing now runs the risk of trapping the nation in a debt cycle, particularly if grants and concessional loans from outside partners are not forthcoming. The burden will only get worse if borrowing costs increase, especially if credit rating agencies reduce Nepal’s risk profile in reaction to political and economic unrest. A declining rupee and growing import prices could cause inflationary pressures that further reduce real incomes and exacerbate public annoyance.

A new generation of Nepalis has taken to the streets to vent their frustration because they are better educated, more globally connected, and more conscious of the shortcomings of the government. Disillusionment will increase if their complaints are only addressed through repression and short-term fixes rather than structural changes. That might undermine democratic stability by opening the door for frequent demonstrations or more extreme forms of mobilisation. Nepal runs the risk of becoming caught in a vicious cycle where protests erode the economy further, which in turn leads to more protests. Economic despair and political alienation are a volatile combination.

Consequently, Nepal cannot meet the challenge on its own. Being a landlocked nation sandwiched between two powerful countries, Nepal’s instability will unavoidably impact its neighbours, and it needs outside assistance to recover. India, Nepal’s closest neighbour and biggest trading partner, has a special obligation to provide concessional credit lines for reconstruction and investment in industries that create jobs. Targeted assistance in border areas, primarily through cross-border trade hubs and renewable energy projects, may be able to absorb some of the young people without jobs and lessen the pressures of migration. In order to guarantee the transparent use of reconstruction funds, India can simultaneously offer technical expertise in auditing and public finance.

Beijing must put community-sensitive projects that meet local needs ahead of purely strategic objectives if it hopes to be regarded as a reliable development partner. Coordination with Nepali stakeholders, grants rather than high-interest loans, and transparent funding will be essential. The time demands that multilateral organisations like the World Bank and Asian Development Bank reevaluate their priorities, allocating funds not only to infrastructure but also to rural development, youth employment, and governance reforms. Through direct investments in healthcare and education, development bonds backed by remittances, or emergency compensation funds for impacted families, Western donors and Nepal’s diaspora communities can also make a significant contribution.

Nepal’s recent history has taught us that crises rarely come to an end with a single incident. The monarchy was overthrown by the People's Movement of 2006, but federalism and ethnic grievances remained unresolved. Although it alienated important groups, the 2015 Constitution established a new order. The GenZ protests follow this pattern: if youth grievances are not addressed, today’s instability will only serve as the catalyst for tomorrow’s upheaval. Now, structural reform is required in addition to reconstruction. The bare minimum of stability requires the transparent rebuilding of damaged infrastructure, a youth-focused national employment mission, institutional reforms to fight corruption, and sincere communication with younger generations and civil society.

If these economic wounds are allowed to worsen, there is a risk that they will exacerbate disenchantment, accelerate migration, erode the fiscal system, and create the conditions for further upheavals. Nepal and its neighbours, who would unavoidably be affected, cannot afford such a course. It is now the duty of Nepali leaders and outside partners to take note of the possibility to not only restore what has been destroyed but also to establish the framework for a more resilient, inclusive, and stable order. The GenZ protests might be seen as a sign of long-term decline rather than a turning point towards reform in the absence of such a concerted and systemic response.

The author is a PhD Candidate at the School of International Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi

The recent GenZ protests in Nepal caused profound political changes in Nepal, including the resignation of Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli, dissolution of Parliament, and appointment of former Chief Justice of Nepal Supreme Court, Sushila Karki, as interim Prime Minister. Nevertheless, the process is far from complete, as the President has announced 5 March 2026 to be the date of the next general elections. It will be interesting to note what kind of reform the interim Prime Minister will be taking, which may be added once the new parliament is constituted. It will also call for constitutional reforms in Nepal, which has been a foremost demand of GenZ protestors. In light of these changes, it is essential to stocktake the journey of constitutional reforms that Nepal has taken in the past seven to eight decades, and what the friction points were back then. 

Nepal’s constitutional journey since the 1940s reads less like a tidy sequence of institutional reforms and more like a long, uneven negotiations over where sovereignty should sit and what it should look like. King or people. Party or palace. Kathmandu or the Tarai. Hill heartland or the periphery. Each text, from the first experiments under the Ranas to the 2015 charter and beyond, is a record of bargains struck and bargains deferred. To understand why Nepal is once again on the verge of serious change after a youth-led uprising, we need to trace how these bargains have shifted, which problems were solved, and which were simply moved down the road.

The starting point is the late Rana rule. Under pressure at home and from winds blowing across the subcontinent, Prime Minister Padma Shumsher announced constitutional reforms in the late 1940s. The Government of Nepal Constitution Act of 1948 floated the idea of a bicameral legislature and ministerial responsibility. It was carefully drafted. Selection powers sat with the prime minister, and the edifice rested on executive discretion. Still, it broke a tradition by acknowledging that state power might be shared. That act was followed by the Interim Government of Nepal Act of 1951, issued as the Rana oligarchy fell and a broad coalition ushered in a constitutional monarchy and multiparty politics. The 1951 text listed civil liberties, set out a provisional institutional design, and promised a fuller democratic settlement to come. It also carried the first seed of a recurring problem: lofty rights were planted in thin soil. Institutions to protect them were weak, and the balance between palace and parties was unsettled.

The 1959 Constitution tried to make good on the promise. Nepal held its first general elections. BP Koirala became the first democratically elected prime minister. For a moment, parliamentary democracy had a constitutional home. Alas, it did not last. In December 1960, King Mahendra dismissed the government, jailed elected leaders, and moved the country into a partyless Panchayat system. The 1962 Constitution codified the Panchayat system, concentrating sovereignty in the crown and constructing a pyramidal set of assemblies that were consultative in form and royalist in effect. This was not an aberration but a full constitutional project. It sought to bring nationhood, religion, and monarchy into a single frame and to define politics as social harmony under royal guardianship. Its longevity came from that ideological glue; its undoing came from the same source when economic change, social mobility, and a rising political class found the frame too tight.

The popular movement of 1990 was the first decisive mass amendment to that project. The protest forced a bargain. The palace would remain, but power would flow through elected institutions. The 1990 Constitution restored multiparty democracy, expanded fundamental rights, and set up an independent judiciary. It looked European in design, and for a while, it delivered plural politics. Yet the monarchy still held reserve powers. Identity-based claims were largely absorbed into the language of national unity rather than represented as constitutional pluralism. Federalism was absent. These omissions did not cause the insurgency that began in 1996, but they certainly narrowed the channels through which socioeconomic grievances and peripheral voices could be routed into policy. The palace’s 2005 coup temporarily snapped even the 1990 compromise, convincing many that a constitutional monarchy could never be safely caged.

The 2006 people’s movement broke the last link. The 2007 Interim Constitution disempowered the king and reoriented the state toward an elected sovereign Constituent Assembly. When the monarchy was abolished in 2008, it was less a leap into republicanism than an acceptance that the 1990 dualism had failed. From that point forward, legitimacy would be negotiated not between palace and parties but within a widening circle of political and social actors: Maoists now in suits, Madhesi parties galvanized by long exclusion, indigenous nationalities, women’s movements, and a younger generation that had grown up inside conflict and transition. The first Constituent Assembly collapsed under the weight of that diversity. The second produced the 2015 Constitution, a republican, federal, secular settlement that promised inclusion, proportional representation, and a new map of provinces. It was a bold step, but once again, some bargains were patched rather than resolved.

Two pressures immediately exposed those seams. The first was identity and representation. Many Madhesi and Tharu groups protested that the federal boundaries and electoral formulae diluted their political weight. Protests in the plains and a crippling impediment to cross-border trade followed. The new constitution’s legitimacy arrived with a caveat attached. Kathmandu amended the text on proportional inclusion and constituency delineation, but the deeper question, whether federal design tracks social geography closely enough to make people feel represented, was left for politics to answer. It still has not. The second pressure was state capacity under stress. The 2015 earthquake devastated infrastructure and livelihoods. A new federal republic with developing democratic institutions was suddenly tasked to deliver large-scale reconstruction, manage competing party interests across new provincial layers, and keep the economy afloat. The constitution’s promise of devolution and local empowerment was good, but the administrative reforms could not pick up the pace. This gap between constitutional aspiration and everyday governance seeded the frustration that now fuels youth anger: a sense that no matter which coalition takes Singha Durbar, services remain patchy, jobs scarce, and integrity negotiable.

Since 2015, constitutional politics has not rested. A 2022–23 set of amendments eased pathways for citizenship by descent for children of those who held citizenship by birth, and opened a narrow door for non-resident citizenship without political rights. Each change eased one pressure while stirring another. That pattern, addressing the immediate grievance and postponing the structural fix, has been the through-line of the last decade.

With this grand rupture, what can be expected from the constitutional positioning of new political actors is a timely question that needs to be asked. How federal should the state be? What mix of electoral system and party democracy can ensure accountability? How can conflicts of interest be managed in a political sphere where networks are tight and incentives distorted? These are some essential questions that the new democratic political elite of Nepal will be dealing with for quite some time. Nevertheless, in the opinion of this author, the 2015 constitution provides a good roadmap with some recalibrations to work upon, more importantly, in the areas of safeguarding human and digital rights. Along with this, a serious approach needs to be taken to tackle corruption by developing more constitutional checks and balances. Nevertheless, it also needs to be kept in mind that constitutional and legal reforms need to be done in parallel with overhauling already existing institutions as well as serious bureaucratic and institutional reforms; only then can long-term stability be achieved. 

The global geopolitical stage has been rocked with multiple events, protracted theaters of conflict, and competing interests between different actors. At this time, the rapprochement and de-escalation between the two Asian giants, who have been otherwise seen as competitors and rivals, needs to be studied cautiously. The ties between two of the world’s largest economies went haywire after the clashes along the India-China border during the height of the Covid-19 pandemic in 2020. It caused loss of lives to both sides, causing fundamental alteration in the ties between the two nations. 

After disengagement from the last friction point, namely the Patrolling Point 15 in the Gogra-Hot Springs area in 2022, a hope of fragile calm in that region was expected. It needs to be noted that it is not the return of the pre-2020 status quo ante. But there has been an update since last October as both countries are actively pursuing to deescalate their border tensions and resuming some bilateral ties. There have been visits by the officials of both countries, including the Foreign Minister, Defence Minister and National Security Advisors. There is a resumption of flights after a gap of five years, re-opening of the Kailash Mansarovar pilgrimage and lifting of import ban on fertilizers, rare earth metals, and tunnel machines are all part of this new deal. 

Whatever transpires in 2024-25 is a tentative, at most a fragile change. After the visit of the Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi to New Delhi in August 2025, where he met Prime Minister Modi, External Affairs Minister Jaishankar and National Security Advisor Doval, all agreed on the modalities of patrolling the borders, relaxation of Visa regimes, and possible opening of trade corridors. It is of some significance that this is the first meeting Prime Minister Modi will have had in seven years; his visit to meet Xi Jinping at the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation (SCO) summit in Tianjin.

Nevertheless, all these measures do not indicate the resolution of the inherent conflicts. Border regulation systems are confidence-building measures and not solutions. India continues to raise objections to the CPEC, which passes through Kashmir, and the build-up of Chinese infrastructure along the LAC, among other factors, is bound to keep the mistrust tethered. 

In the Chinese view, the major strategic motivation of this rapprochement is the multifaceted and growing rivalry with the United States. China has expressed this through its foreign policy that is highly oriented toward its east coast, especially with the strained relationships with Taiwan and the South China Sea as well as the technology conflict with the United States. A constantly war-like border of hot troops with India, a country of increasing might, is an expensive and risky strategic distraction. The possibility of an accidental escalation might spell out a disastrous two-front scenario to Beijing, requiring it to divert its military and diplomatic resources. 

Such a Chinese strategic outlook over time has demonstrated as scholar Yun Sun has described, stabilizing relations on one front to free up resources and attention to a more urgent theater. This renewed thaw with India is a sensible de-risking policy, which will help Beijing in reducing the risk of war toward its western flank and redeploy its resources in the central arena of its standoff with the US and its allies. This is also a tactical thrust toward undermining the already existing Western rhetoric of a lone and threatening China, being surrounded by a complete coalition of democratic nations.

To India, the practical effect is a reprieve and a powerful endorsement of its diplomacy. On a pragmatic level, the military and economic burdens of the standoff have been enormous, and the de-escalation of direct tensions enables the government to concentrate on economic recovery and its long-term program of military modernisation. 

On a diplomatic level, the biggest achievement is the endorsement of its valued principle of strategic autonomy. This detente is not an isolated bilateral phenomenon but is directly tied to the changing geopolitical environment, specifically tensions with the United States. It must be noted that the defrosting is occurring against a background of what many consider to be the worst period in Indian relations with the US executive in decades. The imposition of high tariffs on Indian products by the Trump administration in the US has revealed the shortcomings of a relationship that was being marketed as a counterweight to China. 

In this regard, China has already expressed its discontent with the tariffs and underscored the importance of collaboration between the two Asian powerhouses against unilateral bullying. This has given a strategic leverage that Beijing has seized upon. Engaging with China, New Delhi plays to its partners in the Quad that the application is not an unconditional commitment against any one nation but a collaboration founded in mutual interests in the Indo-Pacific. This stance empowers India by demonstrating that it can juggle its complicated relationship with China in its own way, making it an independent and dominant power.

Among the strategic questions that the thaw poses and mostly depends upon is whether China would re-evaluate its Pakistan policy. Islamabad is vacillating once again between Beijing and Washington. On the one hand, it has inaugurated CPEC Phase 2, pursuing higher Chinese investment in infrastructure. 

On the other, it is renewing contacts with Washington, where Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif has overtly solicited US investments and is executing diplomatic overtures to the Trump administration. Pakistan, however, would always be an essential ally to Beijing: a strategic partner, a corridor to the Arabian Sea and a warm client to export arms and finance. China is the major source of Pakistani imports of arms and rollover loans continue to be a major source of fiscal stability in Islamabad. It is due to this factor alone that there can be no likelihood of Beijing weakening its strategic commitment. 

Optics may, however, change. Such a cautious rapprochement with India does not imply that China will give up Pakistan. The most plausible is that of policy dualism, where China is to remain good friends with Islamabad and chooses to accept a limited cooperation dimension with New Delhi. This reflects its longstanding capacity to compartmentalize: advancing economic relations with India at the same time as keeping closer defence relations with Pakistan.

With a relative calm on its northern frontier, India will have time for maneuvering the bumpy roads of Trump’s foreign policy. The US’ strategic interest in India beyond Trump is a strong, independent India capable of anchoring regional stability. A stable border allows India to focus its resources and strategic attention on the broader Indo-Pacific, directly aligning with US goals. Crucially, it proves the US-India relationship is non-transactional and not solely defined by the current geopolitical rejig. Prime Minister Modi’s proposed visit to China and its outcomes are likely to define or redefine the limits and potential of this thaw.

The author is a PhD Candidate at the School of International Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi

India and Nepal share a long and open border stretched across five Indian states of Uttarakhand, Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, West Bengal and Sikkim. On Nepal’s side, Madhesh, Koshi, Bagmati, Lumbini and Sudurpaschim touch India’s border. A mix of Himalayan hills and Tarai marks up the geography of its open borders, effective since 1950. Indian paramilitary force Shashatra Seema Bal (SSB) guards these borders from the Indian side while the Armed Police Force (APF) of Nepal guards Nepal’s side. Barring some contention, the India-Nepal open border has served its purpose effectively, whether it is keeping the tradition of Roti-Beti alive or contributing to the economies of both countries. Open borders also kept the bioregion of the Himalayas intact, whose impact is visible on the flora and fauna between the borders. 

Nevertheless, for states, security is a non-negotiable, as is the question of the security of open and porous borders and people living around and beyond them. India has been a victim of terrorism for a very long time, and Nepal also has been a victim of organized violence for decades. In 2020, during diplomatic tensions, Prime Minister K P Sharma Oli backed India’s call for a standard definition of terrorism during the UNGA. Five years down the line, we do not have a standard comprehensive convention against international terrorism, which rocked South Asia two months back in Pahalgam. India and Nepal have an extradition treaty, and the political elites and intellectuals see the border security with grave concern. 

However, there are growing anxieties from both sides about illegal migration. Elites in Kathmandu point out the illegal migration coming from India, while India also occasionally finds people from Myanmar and Bangladesh on the border regions with Nepal. There has also been a growing movement of countries from the Gulf and Turkey promoting their specific ways of Islam through many organizations in the Tarai region of Nepal, which is home to the majority of the Muslim population of the country. The mushrooming of many infrastructure projects backed by Turkey near the border areas needs closer scrutiny. The Turkish NGO Foundation for Human Rights and Freedoms and Humanitarian Relief (IHH) has been flagged by Indian agencies as an entity of concern. Many reports in Indian as well as Nepali media from time to time report the activities of this organisation working with the Islamic Sangh Nepal as a security threat to both nations. A recently-released report has flagged specific concerns in India. 

After Operation Sindoor and Turkey’s open support to Pakistan in the same, Turkey and Pakistan are being viewed by India as security threats. This is why these new developments in the border regions of both countries are being viewed cautiously. It is also worth noting here that Indian anxieties over these developments are not only part of rhetoric, but India has faced multiple security risks, most notably the IC-814 hijacking and the fake Indian currencies printed with the help of Pakistan’s ISI. They have also used the traditional criminal networks between India and Nepal to further their means. Well-documented sources suggest that ISI has used Nepali soil to harm India since the 1980s. It has also harmed Nepal, as the country is currently on the FATF’s grey list due to ‘deficiencies in anti-money laundering (AML) and counter-terrorist financing (CFT) regimes.’ Terrorists and financiers use any loopholes in any country to achieve their end results. The Nepal government, however, has taken the list very seriously, and the officials are working to remove the country from the list. 

If we look at the Turkish involvement in this already complex scenario, which is constantly working in tandem with Pakistan, it fuels more of India’s anxieties. There are multiple infrastructure projects IHH is taking with other organizations in the Tarai region, making up a thorny issue for Indian agencies. IHH’s record also backs these issues, as the organization has been accused of planning a bombing in Los Angeles in 1999 and is said to have ties with Al Qaeda. Many international agencies also flagged their concern about IHH, which is also known to support Erdogan and is said to have close relations with the Turkish government. 

In this context, the broader border security arrangements between India and Nepal need to be examined. The India-Nepal open border stands today at the intersection of tradition and shifting geopolitics. As external actors with divergent strategic ambitions insert themselves into the region, the onus is on India and Nepal to jointly future-proof the border against vulnerabilities that neither side can tackle alone. The task is straightforward: border management must evolve from merely guarding physical space to understanding and disrupting transnational networks that exploit social, religious and financial channels.

This calls for institutionalised cooperation, not just between security agencies, but also through shared platforms for intelligence, financial scrutiny and civic engagement along the border regions. A proactive approach would also mean enhancing community resilience in the Tarai and adjoining areas, ensuring that developmental gaps are not filled by opaque foreign entities with unclear agendas. Both governments can explore structured dialogues at the level of home ministries and central banks to counter emerging threats like terror financing and ideological radicalisation. At stake is not just bilateral security, but the health of the broader Himalayan bioregion, where open borders have historically sustained both people-to-people ties and ecological continuity. Preserving this openness while safeguarding sovereignty will require vigilance, trust-building and a strategic alignment that reflects the realities of an interconnected and contested neighborhood. India and Nepal have the history, goodwill and institutional frameworks to achieve this; what is needed now is the political will to update and act on them with clarity and foresight.

The author is a PhD Candidate at the School of International Studies, JNU, New Delhi

In a turbulent world where a polycrisis looms—from Ukraine to Iran—hot conflicts remain unresolved through diplomacy, and the developed world shows fractures, as seen in the recent G7 summit in Canada, multilateral efforts are withering. A rare exception is European unity in the Ukraine conflict. Against this backdrop, cooperation in South Asia becomes especially noteworthy, particularly given that nuclear-armed neighbors India and Pakistan were on the brink of war after the terror attacks in Kashmir’s Pahalgam.

Amid these tensions, a positive development emerges. Nepal has begun supplying 40 megawatts (MW) of electricity to Bangladesh via India. This is a significant step for one of the world’s least interconnected regions. But why is this a crucial milestone in South Asia’s energy landscape?

South Asia is undergoing an energy transition. India, the world’s third-largest power consumer, saw peak demand reach 250 GW this year, with projections suggesting 458 GW by 2032. Bangladesh’s peak demand is nearing 16,000 MW and is expected to exceed 34,000 MW by 2030. As India expands its renewable energy capacity and Bangladesh shifts from gas and coal, both countries are increasingly turning to cross-border power exchanges to supplement domestic supply.

Nepal and Bhutan represent untapped potential. The Himalayan nations possess hydropower capacities of 40,000 MW and 30,000 MW, respectively, yet less than 10 percent has been harnessed. With proper infrastructure, they could become the region’s clean energy reservoirs.

The feasibility of power trading hinges on infrastructure, where quiet but meaningful progress has been made. Since 2016, the Nepal–India Dhalkebar–Muzaffarpur 400 kV line has enabled Nepal to export electricity to India. The recent Nepal-Bangladesh power transfer utilized this line, routing through India’s eastern grid via the HVDC Baharampur–Bheramara link.

BIMSTEC has sought to capitalize on this momentum. Its Grid Interconnection Master Plan, developed with ADB support and approved in 2018, outlines technical strategies for an integrated electricity market. The Energy Centre in Bengaluru, envisioned as a BIMSTEC knowledge hub, is expected to foster policy alignment and trade facilitation.

Yet BIMSTEC remains institutionally weak. While the recent trilateral power exchange occurred within its territory, it was not coordinated by BIMSTEC itself,  which is a critical distinction. Unlike the EU’s energy union or Africa’s Power Pools, BIMSTEC lacks a formal regulatory framework for energy trade. There is no central market operator, no unified dispute mechanism, and no standardized tariff system. Without a dedicated trading platform, transactions rely on bilateral deals, contingent on India’s willingness to facilitate them.

This model has worked so far, but its scalability is uncertain. As new projects like Bhutan’s Sunkosh and Nepal’s Arun-IV come online, challenges around pricing, grid stability, and regional capacity planning will grow. A regional market cannot thrive indefinitely on ad-hoc bilateral agreements.

Political commitment within BIMSTEC is also uneven. While India, Nepal, and Bangladesh have made progress, members like Myanmar and Sri Lanka remain peripheral to energy discussions, and Thailand’s involvement has been largely rhetorical.

A multilateral institutional framework is needed—not just for regulation but also to develop infrastructure, from unlocking Himalayan hydropower to building a shared grid. It could also create an integrated market for surplus power. However, this requires sustained engagement. BIMSTEC could learn from ASEAN, where economic cooperation persists despite territorial disputes.

India and Bangladesh aim for net-zero emissions by 2070. With rising energy demand and a push for cleaner solutions, investments in hydropower and other renewables are critical. As a neighbor to most BIMSTEC members, India should not only facilitate power exchanges but also actively help build the necessary infrastructure. This is also a strategic imperative for Indian and Bangladeshi exports, particularly to the EU, which will soon impose a Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism (CBAM) tax.

The Nepal-Bangladesh power deal, enabled by India, is more than a regional energy milestone. It underscores a geopolitical and developmental opportunity South Asia cannot ignore. Amid climate crises, energy insecurity, and volatile bilateral ties, cross-border power trade offers a path to redefine cooperation through economic interdependence.

Yet without a multilateral framework, such exchanges remain fragile, dependent on India’s strategic calculus. The absence of standardized rules, dispute resolution, and long-term planning leaves the region vulnerable to political shifts and technical failures. For India, formalizing a BIMSTEC energy community is not just goodwill—it aligns with its climate diplomacy and trade competitiveness in a CBAM-regulated world.

The real challenge is not technical feasibility but political vision. South Asia’s energy future hinges on its ability to institutionalize trust, integrate equity, and depoliticize infrastructure.

The author is a PhD Candidate at the School of International Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University. He is also associated as a Life Member of the International Centre for Peace Studies, New Delhi 

The appointment of Mohammad Yunus as Chief Advisor of Bangladesh, after the acrimonious removal of Sheikh Hasina, signifies an unparalleled shift in the nation’s political course. Globally recognized as a Nobel Peace Prize laureate and innovator of microfinance via Grameen Bank, Yunus ascended to the highest executive role amid a period of national upheaval. His leadership has emerged when Bangladesh faces a confluence of challenges—severe economic downturn, waning investor confidence, geopolitical strife in South and Southeast Asia and a domestic landscape characterised by civil upheaval and institutional exhaustion. 

The unelected top official of Bangladesh has been in the news since the ouster of his predecessor, Sheikh Hasina. When the students of Bangladesh, after the uprising, chose Yunus as a top executive, they must have had a few things in their minds: his international stature, his closeness to the Western governments, his reputation as a global economist and finally, for some, his secular credentials. These qualities of Yunus are not providing dividends for the current political climate of Bangladesh. The most recent example of this tension has been the visible opposition from Bangladesh’s Army to the Yunus-proposed ‘humanitarian corridor’.  

Other than that, in a recent speech in Beijing, Yunus stated that India’s northeastern territories are ‘landlocked’ and suggested that Bangladesh could serve as their natural conduit to the Indian Ocean. Although ostensibly a harmless appeal for regional connection and collaboration, the speech directly aligned with Beijing’s geopolitical characterization of India’s vulnerabilities. Chinese state media promptly disseminated Yunus’s statements, portraying Bangladesh as a neutral yet empathetic regional participant. The political characterization of India’s Northeast is very sensitive. India regards this region as strategically vital, mainly because of the constricted Siliguri corridor, often called the ‘Chicken’s Neck’—and symbolically significant for its domestic cohesion. The speech was interpreted in New Delhi as an implicit endorsement of China's enduring attempts to undermine Indian sovereignty in Arunachal Pradesh and to globalize the geopolitical character of the Northeast.

India's response was prompt and multifaceted. Prime Minister Narendra Modi, in a pointed retort, affirmed that the Northeast is “central to India’s growth narrative, not peripheral or isolated,” clearly countering Yunus’ assertion, with geographic and diplomatic connotations. External Affairs Minister S Jaishankar intensified the matter by publicly alleging that Yunus was “cherry-picking narratives” and emphasized to Dhaka the profound economic, cultural and historical dimensions of Indo-Bangladeshi relations.

Central to India’s response is the Siliguri corridor—a 22-kilometer-wide land passage linking the remainder of India with its northeastern states. The ‘Chicken’s Neck’ is commonly referred to as one of the nation’s most significant strategic vulnerabilities. Yunus’ comments directly contributed to India’s enduring apprehension of encirclement. The episode revitalized New Delhi’s security dialogue, with Indian defense strategists cautioning about a ‘chicken with two necks’, wherein Bangladesh and China may exert pressure on India’s most vulnerable spot together.

It was another blow to an already fragile relationship between India and Bangladesh, considering Bangladesh’s ex-PM Sheikh Hasina is currently residing in India, fearing persecution in Bangladesh. The current Bangladesh government has demanded her return from India. On its part, the government of India has been wary of the current regime as it has “failed to stop the persecution of minorities after the ouster of Sheikh Hasina”. 

While the current regime in Bangladesh has signalled strong ties with China, they are yet to see any material impact. Other than that, Pakistan has also made overtures toward Bangladesh, which the current regime has welcomed, but the strategic and economic viability of this relationship is in question. The political climate in the West has also changed drastically since the arrival of Donald Trump as US president. His transactional relationship is haunting the US’ oldest and most steadfast allies. In his first term, Trump was particularly interested in the Indo-Pacific to counter China. Bangladesh finalized its Indo-Pacific strategy in 2023 during Hasina’s tenure, which more or less aligned with the US’ vision. However, the US is currently dealing with two evolving crises in Gaza and Ukraine, and the Indo-Pacific has again taken a back seat. The other economic powers are trying to cut deals with the US because of Trump’s trade war threat.

Yunus must embrace a more equitable and realistic strategy that harmonizes with Bangladesh’s domestic circumstances and the shifting geopolitical environment to traverse the intricate political and diplomatic landscape ahead. Although advantageous, his global credentials and reformer persona must now be enhanced by a more profound engagement with regional nuances and state institutions. In the light of the recent tensions with India, it would be wise for Yunus to implement confidence-building measures that strengthen Bangladesh’s dedication to regional peace and cooperative benefits, especially on connectivity, trade and border security. This does not inherently necessitate a withdrawal from alliances with other nations, such as China; nevertheless, it demands meticulous recalibration to prevent the appearance of strategic alignment with any one entity. 

Simultaneously, Yunus must tackle national issues regarding governance and institutional credibility. Establishing communication lines with political players, especially moderate opposition factions and civil society, may alleviate tensions and facilitate a more inclusive political process. Enhancing civilian-military interactions will be crucial for ensuring policy continuity and internal consistency. His initiatives, including the humanitarian corridor, must be conveyed transparently and deliberated within national institutions to prevent misunderstandings or suspicions of unilateralism.

Bangladesh’s future will likely hinge on its capacity to sustain strategic flexibility while strengthening internal cohesion. As global power dynamics change and regional alliances develop, Yunus’ leadership will be evaluated on his ability to establish Bangladesh as a constructive regional participant, engaging with all significant actors without excessive dependence on any, and grounding its diplomacy in national consensus and institutional robustness.

The author is pursuing his doctoral research from the School of International Studies, JNU, New Delhi