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Let’s start with a question for the Nepali electorate on the eve of local elections.    

Are you happy? Yes? No? Don’t know/Can’t say? Wait....

While answering this question, be honest with yourself. Remember, you don't have to be politically correct. Remember, you are not facing the camera. Hooligans bent on getting the 'right response' are not marauding around.

So, fear not.

Don’t fake your feelings and act as angels/cherubs assigned to spread happiness around the world, for many world bodies have been investing billions of dollars for the same.

Why the world, the third world in particular, has not been able to put on a grin, leave aside that cheek-to-cheek smile, despite such huge investments is perhaps the most difficult question of our times. Is the dollar lost in the pipeline?

The Buddha is meditating under the peepal tree. Who else would seek the answer?

Forget it, for now.

For now, even forget the findings of the World Happiness Index 2022. BTW, that index has found in Europe a fountain of happiness with eight countries of the continent enjoying the topmost slots. Nepal figures as the happiest country in South Asia (rank: 84), while Bangladesh (94), Pakistan (121), Sri Lanka (127), India (136) and Afghanistan (146) cheer her on.

The rest of the world can perceive us to be one happy country, but it means nothing if we are not happy from within.

Happiness can be a very shallow idea oftentimes, anyways.

Tin-pot dictators can find happiness even by opting for ethnic cleansing and by driving away lakhs of citizens if they perceive them to be a threat to despotism. What good is ‘happiness’ if that is contingent on the fulfillment of the whims and fancies of such despots?

Sadly, the international community seems to have no problem with such despots and their ‘democratic systems’.        

Back to the opening question. While answering it, shed the burden of having to project the image of a picture-perfect country. Despite all our perfections and imperfections, we are one of the most beautiful countries. The world knows that and we know that.

This time, get a bit angry over the state of affairs. Angry over what?

Angry over misrule, corruption, the breakdown of law and order. Angry over rising inflation, triggered by repeated hikes in fuel prices in the wake of the Russia-Ukraine war and rampant corruption that has become a way of life for our political and bureaucratic elites. Angry over the audacity of our tried, tested, failed and corrupt-to-the-core political parties to seek our vote in the local elections at top of their lungs despite a disappointing performance over the decades.

Angry over the fact that Nepal continues to fare poorly on the Transparency International’s corruption perception index (CPI). Have a look at Nepal’s CPI score over a decade if you think all is hunky-dory in the god’s own country.

Year    score

2012      27

2013      31

2014      29

2015      27

2016      29

2017      31

2018      31

2019      34

2020      33

2021      33

Angry over apathy on the part of bureaucrats (who like to be called the Rashtrasewaks, the servants of the nation) and politicians towards the public that has been weathering an economic crisis in the wake of the Russia-Ukraine war and the aftermath of the Covid-19 pandemic that dealt a serious blow to the Nepali economy.

In the wake of economic crises, politicians around the world take drastic measures to minimize their impact on the public. They cut down on their pay and perks, some even work without pay. They do every bit to ensure that public health, education, agriculture, law and order, and all those welfare schemes do not suffer even during hard times.

But our good-for-nothings are a shameful exception. Even when the inflation is starting to bite, the government has no plans to curb expenses. 

Instead, the head of the government flies to a hill station just a stone’s throw from the government headquarters to attend a conclave. The cost of that ride: A whopping 10 lakh rupees. Couldn’t he have opted for road travel? Or could he not have addressed the conclave virtually if it were so important?

What’s more, the government seems bent on infringing upon the autonomy of the central bank.

It’s not only the government that has been showing extreme insensitivity towards the public during this crisis, though. Except for token protests against price hikes, the opposition parties have also been acting as mute spectators towards the plight of the public.

For example, none of them have suggested, even feebly, a cut-down on pay and perks for lawmakers and bureaucrats when the national economy is in dire straits. Why would they? After all, they too will be needing millions of years to ‘fight’ the elections.

A political and bureaucratic system mired neck deep in corruption needs a thorough cleansing. How about initiating this process through the elections? 

This time, reformists/activists of all sorts should have pressed for a none-of-the-above legislation, allowing the electorate to discard all of the tried, tested and failed parties in the fray. That could have offered a measure of public resentment against the old guard, and helped cleanse the system.

But all is not lost and the voters can still make a huge difference.

This election season (local level elections are on May 13, to be followed by provincial and federal elections in a matter of months) while politicians of different hues and shades come to us asking for our precious votes, let’s keep in mind that tried, tested and failed parties and their leaders are largely to blame for our pitiable plight. Rather, let’s think about giving the new, untainted ones a chance.

This time, let’s carry a lot of anger and turn it into wisdom. This time, let’s vote for Nepal, the Nepalis and a new destiny.

This time, if none of the parties are convincing enough, let’s vote with our feet. That is one sure way to make our vote count.

In broad strokes, a veteran journalist used to paint a typical Nepali year into two seasons: the winter of discontent and the summer of unrest. That was when the winds of change were blowing again in Kathmandu after a brief period of calm and the regime of King Gyanendra was tottering, with generous help from friends/well-wishers from near and afar. 

This categorization of the seasons is too broad in a country that takes pride in her seven, uniquely beautiful seasons: Vasanta (the spring), Grishma (early summer), Varsha (the summer monsoon), Sharad (early autumn), Hemanta (late autumn) and Shishir (the winter). By the way, this broad stroke is not meant to undermine initiatives to promote Nepal as a tourist destination for all seasons, especially when all’s not well with her economy.

About the vet’s painting skills, yours truly does not know much. But for obvious reasons, a Homo sapiens of words should not get to paint things of beauty like seasons for public consumption, for he is sure to miss many a shade.

As for words, the vet had a way with them.

Now, let yours truly elaborate a bit on the vet’s two-season concept. 

Come winter, there’s rising frustration and biting cold but no electricity, that too in a country rich in water resources.

It’s not only the cold that’s biting the members of the public, though. Umpteen causes like the never-ending misrule, thriving corruption, the absence of law and order, market prices heading northwards and living standards on a free fall have the people smoldering like the fire burning in the makkal (a conventional coal-fired stove).

But it’s so cold outside, the people won’t hit the streets yet. Why would they, anyway? After all, the meenpachas—the 50 days of the grim winter—are so cold that even the fish catch cold, literally. Not only the people but their elected overlords and warlords also detest the grim winter. Yours truly fondly remembers a particular frame from the winter of discontent in which a firebrand politico was caught napping during a program to announce a series of protests against King Gyanendra’s autocratic regime. That grab would surely have gone viral if the leader was caught in a similar act these days.

The biting cold is not the only reason holding a people back, though. Letting the fire burn inside unhindered would surely propel the people into the streets and the resulting inferno would bring down regime after regime after regime, but what good would it do? What would the laity get even if they managed to bring about yet another regime change by hitting the streets and returning injured, crippled for life or not returning at all? Their sacrifices would bring another bunch of leaders to power that would forget popular aspirations and get neck-deep in corruption.

That is the reason why the masses, despite calls from political leaders of different hues and colors, would keep off the streets. The apathy would run so deep that political parties would often pay the hoi polloi handsomely for taking part in street protests, bringing them to the capital in busloads from the mofussil.

But the turning point in such protests would come sooner than later. Any instance of the use of the brute police force (real or perceived) would rekindle the protests with the masses joining in spontaneously. From then on, there would be no stopping the protests without the revolution reaching its ‘logical conclusion’.

Looking back, it will be fair and square to say that a `political revolution´ is like a river system consisting of different rivers and streams acting as tributaries and distributaries. In the case of Nepal, foreign interests in general and the interests of a neighbor have always counted far more than the streams of blood, sweat, toil and tears flowing from the attending multitudes.

That is why things have remained much the same for the Nepali lok (to say the least) despite several winters of discontent and summers of unrest.

While walking along the beaten paths for days on end as part of a thought process during the anti-MCC protests and later, yours truly again found how truly beautiful this city is. 

Walking by those blue flowers in full bloom was pure delight. You looked at those blooms for hours on end and still craved for more. And when the branches swayed at the slightest of winds and showered you with flowers, your heart swayed with pleasure.

For some very learned folks, these flowers are jacaranda and for others, they are blue mimosa. Yours truly does not know anything about the plant kingdom. All he knows is that these flowers are indescribably beautiful, they make life a bit more tolerable. 

We have given Kathmandu different names ranging from Alakapuri, the beautiful capital of Lord Indra, to Dustmandu (Dhulomamdu) to the necropolis. Our own images are what a city reflects. Traveling back in time, why on earth did the vet see just two seasons in Kathmandu?   

Between the grim winter and the sweltering summer, there always is a brief window when flowers of all sorts bloom and life seems a little more bearable despite its absurdities. Revolutions may go astray and the self-styled makers of our destiny may fail us yet again, but the spring will never fail us, probably.

In our respective rat races, we may have forgotten how beautiful this city looks during all seasons in general and the spring in particular.

Like the phoenix, this city of higher ideals like arts and crafts has repeatedly risen from the ashes of destruction, blooming like those blue flowers. Names like Dhulomandu do not do justice to her never-say-die spirit powered by divinity and humanity.

Even amid these blossoms, exceptionally fertile minds have failed to give this city a name befitting the season. As for yours truly, it is and will always remain #Bloommandu as this is where not only those seasonal blue flowers, but millions of dreams bloom in all seasons.  

The coronavirus pandemic and the omicron waves have put frontline sanitary workers, mainly those working in public toilets in the Kathmandu Valley, under increased public gaze. This write-up aims to bring to the fore a typical workday of these workers tasked with both sanitary and managerial roles through a brief conversation with two workers stationed at a public loo.

Sanitary staff of public loos, especially of those located at nerve centers like Ratnapark, are early birds. A typical workday starts at around 5 am and ends tentatively at 9 pm, says Rabin KC. The first of the users arrive quite early, but they are few and far between. The users may be cleaners of public buses, owners of tea stalls, drivers, etc.

The first round of cleaning is over by 7 am, says KC. As for the use of personal protective equipment (PPE), KC says: There’s no question of doing the cleaning work without putting on safety gear like gloves, boots and mask.

Apart from the public toilet at Ratnapark, his work stations include addresses like Pokhara Dohori Saanjh, Fewa Dohori Saanjh, Ebizza and Fire (all located in Thamel), not to mention hospitals where sanitary workers have to put on heavy overalls equipped with boots and gloves while at work, running a sweat all along.

Do the workers have to buy those safety gears or do the contractors provide them?

KC says the contractors provide the gears. That’s some relief for these workers, especially in trying times like the current pandemic.

Asked about the behavior of users of the loo at Ratnapark, KC turns a bit critical.

Out of 100 users, 15 to 20 don’t clean up after their acts—they don’t pour water even when they are done, causing inconvenience to others streaming in—observes KC.

Rajan Deula, stationed at the same loo, joins in: Out of every 10 users, only 2-3 people clean the fecal matter with water. What does this reveal about our health and hygiene standards?

By the way, this is not for want of water, he adds: The nearby well has dried up, so we buy tanker water to keep the public loo clean.

The public loo with hot water facilities for bathing used to pull crowds. With hot water no longer available, the crowd has thinned. Nowadays, a handful of cleaners and drivers come for bathing once a week or so, per Deula.

Back to the user behavior. Despite our constant encouragement to pour water before and after use, the users pay no heed, KC laments, referring to the 15-20 percent bracket.

That’s not the end of problematic behavior at the public loos, though.

About 20 percent of users still spit paan, other tobacco products and throw cigarette butts. Out of every 100 or so users, five to 10 come smoking, says Deula.

In the past, some women users used to dispose of sanitary pads inside the toilet and not in the bin, according to KC. Such incidents used to cause blockages necessitating major repairs, each costing up to Rs 4,000, per KC. Such acts are rare these days, much to the relief of sanitary staff and users alike.

Differently-abled people, staff of the Kathmandu Metropolitan City (KMC) and personnel from the Nepal Army and the Nepal Police, including the Traffic Police, get services for free, according to KC and Deula.

Some users try to slip out without paying, says KC. This happens when traffic is heavy, on occasions like protests and big festivals.

That means more revenue than on normal days? Not necessarily. KC offers an interesting insight.

At such times, 15-20 percent users leave without paying, KC offers a rough estimate. The lack of CCTV cameras has only helped those slippery creatures by offering an easy escape. When sought money for using the loo, some people falsely identify themselves as metropolitan staff, security personnel and refuse to pay, Deula points out.

Average daily income? Deula says it is well within the range of Rs 2,000-2,500.

Despite the public health challenges that seem to be growing even in post-pandemic situations, Deula says with confidence, KC firmly by his side: There’s no problem in operating the public toilet by maintaining the standards of safety.

Their confidence notwithstanding, it is necessary to conduct regular training for sanitary staff in view of emerging health challenges where our public toilets can easily become epicenters of diseases. However, it’s not only frontline sanitary staff who need training.

Drawing from the experiences of Deula and KC, it can be said that toilet training for users is absolutely necessary, regardless of their age and gender, to improve the condition of public toilets, apart from provisions for punitive action against errant behavior.

Asked about the role of government entities in improving the condition of public toilets, Deula shoots, point-blank: The KMC collects land rent, it doesn’t do much else.

Hopefully, toilet training for users and government entities (with the main focus on effective ways to run these infrastructure so critical to public health and well-being) will enable sanitary staff like KC and Deula to feel a bit less sad and tired when they leave for home from work at the end of a typically long and hard workday.

A bad dream is not a good way to start a write-up. 

But it can’t be that bad (or can it?), what with the old Delta and new Omicron crises, recurring hikes in the prices of oil and natural gas and subsequent rise in the cost of living affecting our dear lives in varying degrees depending on our respective economic statuses. 

Without mincing words, let yours truly put his nightmare in brief: Shabby public toilets located in a dark underbelly of a decaying city. 

Well, that is what yours truly sees in his dreams once in a while. Where is that city located? Is it the construct of his mind? Yours truly has no idea. Perhaps the nightmare is the result of his recent involvement in some research on the condition of public toilets in the Kathmandu valley or his brief association with the water, sanitation and hygiene (WASH) sector as a small-time consultant in the world of larger-than-life officials/subject experts/specialists/urban planners having unparalleled expertise. Surprisingly enough, our taps have been running dry and public toilets stinking despite huge contributions from these people of high repute and expertise.  

On second thoughts, why blame our crème de la crème alone for all this mess and regard ourselves as holier than thou? We too have some role to play in this, no? 

Can those bad dreams be a call to action from high above? Well, that’s overestimating individual capabilities, though it’s perfect for ego soothing.

While yours truly cannot divine the meaning of those horrific dreams, allow him to share his first-hand experiences and thoughts about the problem with responsible officials, which will surely not make their day!  

My experience of using (or almost using) public toilets in our cities is not much different to that of hundreds of thousands of other people, who have faced similar predicaments and will continue to do so, at least in the foreseeable future, given that magic does not happen in our ordinary lives where the more things change, the more they remain the same. General elections are around the bend, but it will be far-fetched to hope that WASH will be the top agenda of our political parties, who are likely to promise the moon again instead of pledging to bring about small changes in our lives unless and until we make them do it.   

Suffice it to say: Most of these toilets stink to high heaven. Water is hardly available in these toilets and brave sanitary staff stationed there are without personal protective equipment (PPE). On more than one occasion, yours truly had no option but to return without going to the loo for obvious reasons. 

Many government offices use members of the public as second-grade citizens in the matters of the loo. At such offices, the toilets meant for the ‘commoners’ are generally unclean, whereas those meant for their employees are kept clean and locked to prevent the public from (mis-) using them. This level of disrespect for the taxpayer is exceptional and simply unforgivable. 

So much so, the toilets at such infection-prone areas like hospitals are far from clean, generally. Granted that they almost always remain crowded and keeping them clean at all times is a challenging job. But imagine what will happen if hospitals themselves turn into disease/infection hotspots? 

With those parts of our public lives that should be the cleanest at their filthiest, what would the status of public health be, is anyone’s guess. The pandemic should have woken us, including those with the means, ways and authority at their disposal, up to the threat that these toilets pose, but hasn't.      

Would a nightmare like the one yours truly had wake up our authorities from deep slumber and press them to make sure that our public toilets remain clean? If it would, I wish them all some compelling nightmares. 

We are on the brink, yet again, it appears. Public outrage is rising against the old and the new crops of Homo Deus that have successful­ly corrupted to the core the new political system that replaced, barely a decade ago, the old, dys­functional one following a wave of political movements and a bloody, decade-long insurgency.The massive political change—marked by the toppling of rem­nants of a monarchy severely weakened after the Royal Mas­sacre of June 1, 2001, and decla­ration of the unitary democratic state into a federal democrat­ic republic—became possible after a marriage of convenience between the ‘revolutionary force’ and the political parties that had a key role in making the multi­party polity unpopular by using ‘democracy’ to protect their petty political interests.

Apparently, such a change would not have been possible without generous support of the international community to Maoist leadership and main­stream political parties, which had become an albatross around the neck of the ‘democratic pol­ity’, after engaging in one scam after the other. Chief among them were the Lauda Air Scam, Chi­na Southwest Air Scam, Dhamija Scam, LC Scandal, and the Sudan APC Scam. At the height of cor­ruption, there were rumors that candidates eyeing the job of gov­ernment school teacher or police officer had to pay certain sums to higher-ups.

Going by those scams, irregular­ities and blatant breach of public trust, it appeared the leaders were in a hurry to compensate for years spent in jail for democracy and human rights. Now, it is an open secret that the dear neighbor was providing safe haven to Maoist leadership and siding with main­stream parties in putting an end to the old polity with the monar­chy, which was showing certain proclivity towards the northern neighbor.

Consigning the old polity to the dustbin of history was in the interest of both the West and the dear neighbor. By systematically dismantling traditional institu­tions and belief systems, the west, especially some European coun­tries, could conduct all sorts of social experiments here.

For the dear neighbor, ensuing chaos during the switch from the old polity to the new one could turn out to be a boon as it would give it yet another opportunity to fish in the troubled waters of Nepal. Indeed, the recent gifting of more of our lifelines, includ­ing the Arun and Upper Karna­li, without a two-third majority in the parliament for the dubi­ous deals (thanks to a watered down constitution), is a clear proof of this.

The territorial aggression of our land, formalized by cartographic aggression, and the government’s inability to raise a strong voice against it, will do little to increase public trust in this system. The inability of the Nepali state to maintain territorial integrity, one of the foremost duties of a state, means that the state is fledgling, yet again.

At the time of a deepening crisis in the life of this country, public trust towards the state is on the wane, what with irregularities in the purchase of a wide-body air­craft, a high-level scam involving the transaction of government land in Baluwatar (Lalita Niwas scam), plus a controversial lease of the property of the royals.

As if this were not enough, maligning of the new political system continues with the polit­ical leadership making, very recently, a controversial appoint­ment in a highly visible consti­tutional position, with rare sup­port from the much-maligned main opposition. Various inter­est groups have already started crying foul against this appoint­ment, taking it as a blow to transitional justice.

At this point, yours truly thinks it will be relevant to note that Nepal has for years been revolv­ing around two seasons: The win­ter of discontent and the summer of unrest. People are not hitting the streets, but their discontent towards the state, and especially the functioning of the govern­ment, is growing. Anyway, the freezing winter is not an appro­priate season for protests. Rather, this is the season when anger and frustration against the prevailing system keeps building. With grad­ual rise in temperatures, public outrage is likely to reach a boiling point and push the masses on to the streets, giving birth to anoth­er season of political unrest.

There will be no dearth of support for this protest from domestic and foreign forces with diverse vested interests. A much-maligned and discredited political leadership would do well to make sincere effort to garner public trust towards the politi­cal system if it

Okay, the event’s a little old but still worth bringing up for its rich symbolism. By the time yours truly got into the jampacked stadium, the battle royale was already over, and the crowd was going euphoric with Nepal clinching a victory against an up-and-coming footballing nation in the neighbourhood. You see, there come in the not-so-eventful life of yours truly some important engagements that coincide with other equally important events. The fiddler high above had perhaps set the date of the battle royale with this important event to make an otherwise mundane life a little bit
more interesting.

Looking back, getting a ticket to the football finale was akin to winning a Mahabharata of sorts. It meant having faith in the online ticketing system that was down most of the time and trying desperately with fellow football fans to get those coveted seats at double the usual price to watch the home team play against a country finding perfect happiness after evicting more than a lakh of her citizens by committing atrocities against the hapless lot and driving many of them into suicide, under the watchful gaze of the international community, including the world’s
largest democracy.
So, despite having fought frustration brewing against the system to get the ticket at a hefty price, watching the gem of the game was something that was not to be. The only solace was making it to the closing ceremony of the South Asian Games 2019 at its dying moments.
It felt good to cheer the home team with the rest of the crowd. Watching a kid dance and sing for Nepal was pure delight, so were occasional bursts of firecrackers and flashing of thousands of mobile phones in celebration. That day, Nepali fans showed to the rest of the world a decent soccer culture. Yours truly hopes this event will go a long way in projecting a positive image of Nepal to the outside world and making the Visit Nepal Year 2020 a
smashing success.
That day, even not-so-powerful speeches from members of the new aristocracy to the hoi polloi appeared tolerable. Even doubling of ticket prices
seemed okay.
At one point, the audiovisual system failed and the head of the government could be seen and not heard on the giant screen. Even this glitch did not provoke the spectators, who were on cloud nine after the thin victory in the football finale, which was icing in the cake for Nepal that stood second in the overall
medal tally.
The show is over and it is time for some serious reflection, isn’t it? Let me take this opportunity to offer some humble suggestions to whoever in the high and the mighty club is listening: The government can do sports fans a huge favor by not hiking ticket prices at the 11th hour. It can win hearts and minds by making sincere efforts to control elements that want to make hay while the sun shines during
such occasions.
With a little bit of hard work, less talk and less focus on taking the credit for the successes, the government machinery can avoid minor glitches. You see, there was quite a rush to take the credit for organizing the great games successfully, but the organizers should also take the ‘credit’ for what went wrong.
For one, a sports journalist sustaining injuries in police action during the event will not send a positive message from Nepal to the world. Over time, let’s hope, Nepal will be able to organize international sporting events. There’s no reason why Nepal cannot be a great sporting destination. It has almost all that it takes to make it a great sporting destination, like pleasant weather and natural beauty. The focus now should now be on enhancing institutional capacity, building adequate sports infrastructure and investing more on the hospitality sector, to offer sports fans and sportspersons a home away from home.
Thinking over the euphoria and the bursts of joy at the stadium, those great fans of Team Nepal were looking for heroes in one more avenue of this country where political leaders of all hues have specialized in inflicting self-goals. For about three centuries, the Nepalis have been looking for heroes in politicos and disappointment is what successive generation has got, even after giving it all for this country. Never has a search for a hero, who would help bring a country back from the brink by putting national interests above all else, been so long and frustrating.

The year was 1972, and what a year it was! The global champion of capitalism, the United States, crossed the Himalayan barrier to shake hands with a communist China leaving behind past irritants like the Korean War and the Vietnam War and establishing bilateral ties that would emerge as the most important international relationship.

This new chapter in the diplomatic relationship between the two amazingly different countries, which marked the end of over two decade-long halt in the ties, was a Richard Nixon-Henry Kissinger masterstroke targeted at weakening China’s ties with the then Soviet Union.

This relationship proved resilient even during trying times like the Tiananmen Square massacre (1989), the handover of Hong Kong (1997) to mainland China, constant friction over Taiwan, the collapse of communism in East Europe and the fragmentation of Soviet Union in the 1990s. China then opened up to the world from the late 70s and joining the World Trade Organization in 2001. At the climax of the winds of change, the Berlin Wall collapsed, but the ties between the US and China remained intact.

By and large, this bond between a democracy and a communist country proved beneficial for the world as the latter opened up and became a global factory for gadgets, clothing and vehicles, among others. Over the years, academic and scientific collaboration between Chinese and American universities would strengthen, boosting research on diverse fields.

Sadly, this era of engagement seems to be coming to a close and an era of disengagement seems to have begun amid speculations that China will soon be the largest economy by relegating the US to the not-so-coveted second place.

Indications of a possible disengagement are everywhere: In high seas, land, in the air and the space. The disputed South China Sea is one of the potential flashpoints, where the US is siding against China with other claimants in favor of what it calls the freedom of navigation. China’s Belt and Road Initiative will surely cross path with the Asia Pivot Strategy, making the whole of Asia, including South Asia, a flashpoint.

In a clear sign of fraying ties, American companies have started shifting from China to Vietnam, Malaysia and Indonesia, among other countries.

One would be naïve to think that this disengagement would pass off peacefully. It would be equally foolish to think that the superpower and the hyperpower would engage in a full-fledged confrontation. But there’s little doubt that the two countries will seek to harm each other's interests on their own and by taking like-minded countries on board, setting off a prolonged Cold War 2.0.

Needless to say, this kind of conflagration will be disastrous for global peace, stability, and prosperity. Already, the world is witness to the ongoing trade war between the two global giants, a major factor in the economic slowdown that is taking global proportions. As China and the US have footprints everywhere, no part of the globe will be left untouched.

A war of words is also going on between the two sides. The US is accusing China of giving concessions to Chinese companies, thereby denying a level playing field for its companies, something which the US has also started doing to protect its core interests. The US is also accusing China of stealing technologies and vice-versa. The US is accusing Beijing of currency manipulation in view of Chinese ambition to promote its national currency (RMB) as an international currency. How this trade war will end up is quite uncertain.

Amid this, Nepal offers an interesting spectacle. Here, there’s no dearth of hopeless optimists, high-stake gamblers and their lofty plans to make the country prosperous by keeping the border open to allow huge influx of peoples and goods from the immediate neighborhood and beyond, and keeping the two economies like conjoined twins.

While farm and other products from the dear neighbor can enter Nepal without much hassles, most of our products find it pretty hard to make it through the border down south. Stricter border controls are out of the question, given that the onus is on our small-time politicos to make Nepal and the Nepalis bear the historical burden of unequal relations institutionalized by questionable bilateral legal instruments like the 1950 Peace and Friendship Treaty.

Is this bunch of optimists and high-end gamblers, by the way, seeing any opportunity to benefit from the animosity of the two giants, formulating plans similar to the ones it has made to profit from the ‘prosperity’ of the two giant neighbors? This is regardless of the fact that their ongoing and future projects are mainly aimed at promoting their own national interests, whether it’s the BRI, the IPS, Arun III, cross-border pipeline projects or cross-border power transmission lines?

Or is it assessing this trade war and the possibility of a serious global recession that may force Nepali migrant workers to return home, cause market prices to escalate, and push a huge population into abject poverty again, giving rise to a humanitarian crisis? Is it formulating some plans to tide over this worst-case scenario?.

The author is a veteran journalist