Submit your Article

The general election of 2026 marks a defining moment in Nepal’s democratic journey. While elections routinely change governments, they only occasionally signal a deeper shift in the nature of democratic politics itself. The verdict from the Nepali electorate seems to represent just such a transition, suggesting that Nepal is evolving from the politics of democratic transition to one focused on democratic performance—where citizens evaluate leaders less on their historical legacies and more on their capacity to provide effective governance, economic opportunities, and national advancement.

For the Nepali Congress (NC), this outcome demands sober introspection. As a party that once led Nepal’s democratic struggles, it must now reassess its role in a rapidly changing society. This process should transcend nostalgia for past glories or short-term electoral tactics, centering instead on a fundamental question: How can Nepal’s democratic institutions best support the nation’s next phase of development and prosperity? Such moments call for humility, broader perspective, and a forward-oriented sense of national duty.

Accepting the verdict with democratic grace

Elections embody the essence of democratic sovereignty. Through their votes, citizens not only select representatives but also convey their vision for the country’s future. This collective judgment merits unwavering respect. In this election, I sought renewed trust from voters in a constituency that had backed me before. The electorate has chosen another direction, and I accept that choice with humility and grace. I am profoundly grateful to those who offered their support and encouragement, especially against a sweeping national tide. Their faith remains a lasting source of inspiration and obligation.

It is fitting to extend congratulations to the Rastriya Swatantra Party’s leadership for their historic mandate. Victories of this magnitude bring both prestige and weighty duties. Voters have signaled a clear demand for renewal and better governance. We can hope—and must expect—that this new leadership meets the challenge with gravity and dedication, mindful that even robust mandates, like the 2017 left alliance, can stumble amid internal divisions and governance hurdles.

Defeat is a familiar facet of democratic life, serving as a gauge of institutional endurance. The NC has weathered far graver trials—eras of repression, exile, and sidelining—yet it has repeatedly revitalized itself by staying rooted in the people’s democratic hopes. There is strong cause to trust it will do so again, through candid self-examination of recent setbacks, including its own governance lapses and factional strains, to serve the nation with fresh resolve.

The historical arc of democratic politics in Nepal

Placing this moment in Nepal’s extended democratic narrative clarifies its importance. The NC emerged not just as a political entity but as a force for democratic change. In the mid-20th century, it was instrumental in dismantling the Rana oligarchy and ushering in constitutional governance. The 1959 election—Nepal’s inaugural nationwide parliamentary vote under a constitutional monarchy—captured public zeal for representation, yielding a resounding NC win, only for the 1960 royal coup to halt that nascent experiment. Three decades later, the 1990 people’s movement reinstated multiparty democracy after prolonged suppression, reaffirming that sovereignty lies with the people and power must be accountable. The ensuing Maoist insurgency laid bare profound societal inequities, compelling a reevaluation of the constitutional framework.

The 2006 popular uprising drove further transformation, culminating in the republican structure of the 2015 Constitution. Throughout these milestones, the NC stood as a key steward of democratic values, even as shifting public demands now require adaptation from all established (or some may prefer to call, legacy) parties. The 2017 election appeared to promise stability with a dominant left alliance majority, but fractures, fluid coalitions, and delivery shortfalls quickly eroded that promise. Nepal’s democratic triumphs have reshaped political rivalry. The liberties won through generations of activism have heightened citizen expectations for what democracy must achieve.

From democratic struggle to democratic performance

Nepal’s political system has entered a new stage of democratic development. For much of the twentieth century and the early twenty-first, the central challenge was securing democratic freedoms and building constitutional institutions. That struggle shaped the identity of political parties and the experiences of an entire generation of leaders. Today the challenge has shifted. Democratic freedoms are largely institutionalized, and citizens increasingly evaluate political leadership not by historical credentials alone but by governance performance, policy effectiveness, and economic outcomes—such as addressing employment limitations, administrative inefficiencies, and public accountability.

This transition is natural and healthy. Mature democracies gradually move from struggles over political rights toward debates about institutional capacity, economic opportunity, and policy delivery. The electoral shifts of 2026 should therefore be interpreted within this broader evolution. The electorate appears to be signaling a desire for faster progress, stronger institutions, and clearer pathways toward national prosperity, while acknowledging that structural constraints may temper the pace of change. For parties that played historic roles in democratic movements, this adaptation demands self-scrutiny and creativity, including frank reckoning with prior lapses in policy consistency and institutional strengthening.

Listening to the message of change

Every election carries lessons. The message emerging from this one appears to be that many citizens seek new approaches to governance and development. Issues like employment, economic expansion, administrative streamlining, and public oversight dominate discussions, mirroring the ambitions of a younger, better-educated, increasingly urban and interconnected populace. Nepal’s youth confront a stark irony: rising education and global exposure coexist with scant domestic prospects, driving many abroad for work. Remittances bolster families and the economy, yet enduring prosperity hinges on fostering homegrown opportunities, bolstered by targeted investments in education, skills, and entrepreneurship.

For the NC, this moment calls for attentive listening rather than defensiveness. Democratic renewal begins with recognizing that voter expectations evolve. Political institutions remain relevant when they respond constructively to those expectations, addressing both achievements and areas needing reform.

The responsibility of the incoming government

This election has yielded a decisive mandate for the incoming government, which commands a near-supermajority—a rarity in Nepal’s splintered politics. Such a mandate brings both opportunity and responsibility. A strong majority provides the stability necessary to pursue ambitious reforms, implement long-term policies, and address structural challenges requiring sustained commitment. At the same time, it raises expectations and risks if progress stalls due to administrative capacity issues or policy disruptions. When voters grant decisive authority, they expect visible progress in governance, economic development, and institutional reform.

The responsibility of the incoming government is therefore not merely to govern but to demonstrate that democratic institutions can deliver tangible national progress, building on existing sectors like agriculture, hydropower, and tourism. If the coming years bring improvements in governance, job creation, and development, they will strengthen public confidence not only in one administration but in Nepal’s democratic system itself. From opposition or wider civic roles, all democratic participants should aid this constructively, as national gains transcend partisan lines.

Reimagining Nepal’s development path

The central challenge facing Nepal today is the transformation of democratic stability into economic prosperity. Nepal possesses significant resources and opportunities. Its hydropower potential remains among the largest in South Asia. Its natural landscapes and cultural heritage offer exceptional prospects for tourism development. These sectors alone, if developed strategically with sustained investment and policy clarity, could become powerful drivers of growth and employment.

Still, development faces inherent structural limits—landlocked status inflating trade costs, a modest internal market, gradual industrial growth, and heavy remittance reliance. While these inflows aid households, they fall short of a varied, vibrant economy. Institutions have improved, yet administrative prowess and policy steadiness persist as challenges. Such constraints, however, do not define a country’s destiny. Nations facing similar limitations have overcome them through consistent policy direction, institutional strengthening, and political stability. A government with a strong parliamentary mandate therefore has a rare opportunity to pursue reforms with strategic focus and long-term continuity, while navigating risks like geographic vulnerabilities and economic dependencies.

Nestled between Asia’s economic giants, Nepal can tap connectivity, energy trade, and tourism flows. Realizing these opportunities will depend less on geography itself than on the quality of infrastructure, regulatory predictability, and balanced diplomacy. Agriculture remains pivotal and continues to be the primary source of livelihood for rural millions. Improving productivity, expanding agro-processing, and strengthening rural infrastructure are key to easing economic vulnerabilities. No less vital are ongoing commitments to education, skills, and innovation. Nepal’s youthful demographic is a prime resource, with long-term success tied to channeling it into domestic productivity. With political stability and strategic clarity, Nepal can gradually transform its economic base, turning democratic maturity into durable national prosperity, provided all stakeholders collaborate to address ongoing challenges.

Renewal within democratic institutions

The lessons of this election extend beyond any single political party. They highlight the importance of continuous renewal within democratic institutions. Political parties must remain open to generational change, policy innovation, and organizational reform. Public institutions must strengthen transparency, accountability, and professional competence. Democracy thrives by evolving with societal shifts while upholding constitutional essentials. For the NC, this means deliberate contemplation of its place in Nepal’s changing arena. Its historic role in the democratic movement provides a strong foundation, but its future relevance will depend on how effectively it engages with the aspirations of a new generation, including through self-critical evaluation.

Looking ahead

Moments of electoral disruption often appear dramatic in the immediate aftermath, yet they affirm democratic vigor, reminding us that power rests with the people and democratic systems remain capable of renewal. For those of us who have spent many years in public service, the appropriate response is reflection rather than resentment and commitment rather than retreat. The task now is to contribute—within whatever roles we occupy—to the strengthening of democratic institutions and the advancement of national development.

Nepal has already demonstrated remarkable resilience in its journey from monarchy to republic and from conflict to constitutional democracy. The next chapter must focus on translating democratic stability into broad-based prosperity. If the lessons of this election encourage both government and opposition to pursue that goal with seriousness and humility—acknowledging past disruptions and structural hurdles—the electoral transformation of 2026 could endure not as rupture but as the dawn of Nepal’s deepened democratic integration and national evolution.

March 5 marked a historic shift in Nepali politics, as voters of all ages—from Gen Z to older citizens—signaled a clear desire for change. The election results made this evident, with the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) securing a stunning victory. Just two seats short of a two-thirds majority, the RSP swept through the so-called strongholds of traditional parties with remarkable ease.

Bhaktapur-1, which includes Changunarayan and Bhaktapur municipalities, was one such constituency. For more than a decade, the Nepal Majdoor Kisan Party (NMKP) had been the dominant political force there. But in the March 5 election, voters delivered a shock to NMKP candidate Prem Suwal by electing RSP’s Rukesh Ranjit. Suwal received 28,147 votes against Ranjit’s 33,436.

Ranjit has a long history of involvement in politics and social service. He began his political journey during his college days as a member of the CPN-UML-aligned All Nepal National Free Student Union and became active in the RSP only two years ago.

Krishnabuddha Ranjitkar, a 78-year-old voter from Bhaktapur-1, says people voted for Ranjit because they wanted to give someone new a chance—someone who could bring positive change to the constituency and its residents. “I hope the new leader will bring more improvements to this city.” 

Nhachetuko Suwal, another voter from the constituency, says he expected the RSP to defeat the NMKP this time. “People wanted change. They felt it was time to give a new party a chance.”

The 73-year-old adds that although many older voters preferred the NMKP to continue in Bhaktapur-1, the election ultimately tilted in favor of the RSP largely because of younger voters.

“Families whose children and grandchildren are abroad also voted for the RSP. They wanted change, and they got it.”

One voter, who requested anonymity, says the popularity of the RSP and its prime ministerial candidate, Balendra Shah, played a crucial role in the election. “Many voters didn’t even know who the RSP candidate was. We hardly saw any election rallies, and yet the party managed to win.”

According to him, many adult voters cast their ballots for the RSP at the suggestion of their children and grandchildren, who had grown disillusioned with traditional parties, particularly after the deadly Gen Z protests last September.

Ranjit attributes his victory to voters’ desire for change. “Many voters, particularly those in Changunarayan Municipality, felt ignored by their previous representatives,” he says. “They believed that NMKP leaders were mostly focused on Bhaktapur city. I was able to convert their dissatisfaction into votes.”

Many RSP supporters share a similar view. While they acknowledge the NMKP’s contributions to heritage conservation and tourism in Bhaktapur’s old city, they say the party paid less attention to other pressing issues across the constituency, such as water supply.

Ranjit echoes this sentiment. “While the work carried out by the NMKP in the fields of heritage conservation and tourism is praiseworthy, the party did little to address the concerns of people in other areas.”

Suraj Ranjitkar, a local Nepali Congress leader, admits that traditional parties failed to read the voters’ mood not only in Bhaktapur-1 but across much of the country.

“Older parties were overconfident because they were used to winning elections in their strongholds. They were not aware of the growing disconnect between them and the people.”

The hype surrounding the RSP and its strong social media presence also influenced many voters, especially younger ones.

Twenty-year-old Shristi Prajapati says she is pleased to see young and educated people entering politics through the RSP. However, she also expresses concern that some candidates may have won largely because of their social media popularity. She believes candidates such as NMKP’s Prem Suwal in Bhaktapur-1 and Kulman Ghising of the Ujyaalo Nepal Party, who contested from Kathmandu-3, deserved to win.

“Social media clearly influenced many voters, who cast their ballots without fully knowing the candidates,” she says. “I just hope the newly elected young and educated representatives work together to bring positive change across Nepal.”

The RSP’s surge reflects a growing desire among young voters for alternative politics and tech-savvy communication. While the NMKP has a strong legacy in education and health, many younger voters felt it was not keeping pace with modern economic pressures such as jobs and digital opportunities.

“I hope for transparency, digital-first governance, and opportunities for local entrepreneurship under the RSP government,” says 19-year-old Binisha Chitrakar. “I wasn’t expecting Ranjit to win given NMKP’s historical strength, but the social media campaign and the turnout of first-time voters made it possible. Voting is just the first step; true political awareness means holding leaders accountable for better roads, jobs, and governance.”

Seventeen-year-old Nilsan Koju says he had expected the Nepal Workers and Peasants Party to win because of what he described as the party’s contributions in Bhaktapur-1. However, he was surprised when the RSP candidate secured the victory.

“Many people were heavily influenced by social media,” Koju says. “They supported Shah and voted for the bell symbol of RSP without really knowing the candidate.”

According to him, social media played a major role in the election. “NMKP has also done many good things, but those achievements are rarely recognized online. Instead, a few negative issues are amplified, and people tend to focus only on those.”

Koju says he remains hopeful about the RSP, noting that people clearly want change.  

Following his electoral victory, Ranjit says he focused on setting realistic agendas that could be achieved during his tenure rather than making promises that could not be fulfilled within five years.

“Building stadiums and promoting sports is important, as they are ornaments of Nepal,” he says. “But I prioritized addressing the basic needs of Bhaktapurians first. Other issues can be managed gradually once the fundamentals are taken care of.”

Looking ahead, Ranjit has ambitious plans for Bhaktapur: establishing a university within five years, building a Bir Hospital-level facility to serve patients from all 77 districts, and creating employment opportunities for locals. He also wants to convert the industrial area into a “craft village,” reviving traditional cottage industries while relocating pollution-causing factories.

Ranjit envisions building an international-level exhibition and conference center in Sallaghari to boost economic activity and hopes to make Bhaktapur a destination where tourists stay overnight. He plans to involve locals directly through homestays, allowing residents to earn income from tourism.

Addressing concerns that his plans may be overly ambitious, Ranjit says, “Tourism and homestays don’t require huge investments—they can use existing infrastructure. Management is key. For these projects, I have already consulted with the proposed Prime Minister Shah regarding central funding.”

The March 5 election in Bhaktapur-1 ended decades of NMKP dominance, reflecting voters’ clear desire for change. While the party has a strong legacy in heritage conservation, education, and public services, many residents felt economic stagnation and limited opportunities for young people demanded new leadership.

Ranjit’s victory comes with high expectations: creating jobs, improving infrastructure, and preserving Bhaktapur’s cultural heritage. His ambitious plans will test his ability to balance innovation with tradition.
When asked to Prem Suwal about the situation and his thoughts on this, he refused to answer it this soon.

The election also sends a strong message across Nepal: no political stronghold is permanent, and leaders must continually earn the trust of the people.

Fifty-year-old Nirmala Suwal says NMKP has done many good things for Bhaktapur over the years, but this time voters wanted to give a new party a chance. “If we don’t see changes, people may choose differently in the next election.”

Four years ago, the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) did not exist. Today, it is forming Nepal’s government. That alone should make every traditional political party stop and ask itself a very uncomfortable question: what went so wrong?

The March 5 election results were not merely a surprise. They were a rebuke, delivered quietly through the ballot box by millions of Nepalese voters who had run out of patience. RSP's landslide victory is historic not because a new party won, but because it signals something deeper: the collapse of public faith in the political establishment that has governed this country since the democratic revolution of 1990.

The weight of 35 years

To understand why RSP won, you have to understand what Nepali Congress, CPN-UML, and the Maoist Centre have come to represent in the minds of ordinary voters. These parties have had every opportunity. They have held power repeatedly. They have made promises repeatedly. And repeatedly, voters have watched corruption scandals unfold, unemployment persist, public services stay broken, and governments formed through deals that had nothing to do with governance and everything to do with political survival.

The Sept 2025 GenZ protests tried to force accountability through the streets. Young people came out in tens of thousands, angry and organized, demanding change. The response from the old guard was predictable: consolidate, maneuver, and wait for the storm to pass. Many of those same leaders tightened their grip on their party structures and assumed they would outlast the anger.

They misread the room. When the protest could not dislodge them, voters took matters into their own hands on election day. Quietly, and in massive numbers, they chose someone else.

The Balen factor

RSP’s strategic decision to align with Kathmandu’s popular mayor, Balen Shah, and present him as the incoming Prime Minister just weeks before the election was arguably the most consequential political move of this election cycle. It gave RSP something it badly needed: a face, a story, and a reason to vote.

Balen ran a campaign unlike anything Nepal had seen before. He traveled the country in a caravan-style tour, appearing in constituency after constituency, not as a party boss but as something closer to a movement. His interactions with the media remained minimal. His public statements were carefully measured. Yet none of that seemed to matter. What voters saw was someone different. Someone who had actually done something as Kathmandu’s mayor, and who carried himself with a quiet credibility that felt foreign in a political landscape dominated by familiar faces making familiar promises.

This is important to understand: many voters who cast a ballot for RSP could not name their local RSP candidate. Many had only a vague sense of the party’s actual policy platform. What they knew was Balen, and what Balen represented—the possibility, however uncertain, that things could be done differently. In a country exhausted by broken promises, that possibility was enough.

History has a pattern

Nepal’s political history follows a recognizable rhythm. The party that captures the energy of a major political turning point tends to win the election that follows. Nepali Congress led the government after the 1990 democratic movement. The Maoists swept to power after the peace process ended the decade-long armed conflict. Madhes-based parties rose in 2008 on the back of a powerful identity movement. UML and the Maoists dominated in 2017 after steering the promulgation of the new federal constitution.

RSP has now repeated this pattern. Whatever one thinks of the GenZ protests, RSP absorbed their energy and their symbolism. They carried the sentiment of that movement into the election. And history, as it tends to do, rewarded them for it.

The harder question

But winning is the easy part. Governing is not. RSP now inherits a country with a fractured economy, deeply entrenched patronage networks, a public service in disrepair, and a geopolitical position that requires careful navigation between India, China and the West. The very expectations that swept RSP to power are now its greatest liability. Voters did not just want RSP to win. They wanted someone to actually fix things. The mandate is real, but so is the weight of it.

Several questions will define RSP’s tenure before it even properly begins. Can the party hold together its internal dynamics—particularly the relationship between the party leadership and whoever leads the government—without fracturing under the pressure of real decisions? Will it have the discipline to focus on long-term governance rather than the temptation of short-term popularity through high-profile corruption investigations? And perhaps most critically: will it fall into the same patterns of compromise politics that eroded the credibility of every government before it?

There is also the question of capacity. RSP is a four-year-old party. It does not have the deep bench of experienced administrators and policymakers that comes with decades in politics. This is, in some ways, part of its appeal. But governing a country is not the same as campaigning through one. The distance between the promise of change and the delivery of it has destroyed many political careers in Nepal. RSP is about to find out how wide that distance really is.

A verdict, not a blank cheque

The March 5 result deserves to be read for what it is: a verdict on the past, and a conditional bet on the future. Voters did not give RSP unconditional trust. They gave it a chance and it is a rare, hard-won chance born out of collective frustration and a willingness to try something new. That is not the same as loyalty, and RSP would be wise not to confuse the two.

Nepal’s old parties will not disappear. They will regroup, recalibrate, and wait. If RSP stumbles—if governance fails, if corruption appears, if the internal politics become more visible than the public service—those parties will be ready to remind voters that the alternative they chose was no better than what came before.

The GenZ generation that lit the fuse of this political moment is watching. So is the far larger group of ordinary Nepalis who quietly voted for change without quite knowing what form it would take. They have done their part. The ballot box has spoken.

Now comes the harder work, and the real test of whether this is truly a new chapter in Nepal's politics, or just another turn of the same old wheel.

Three days before the March 5 election, I left Hetauda and began a short but revealing journey toward the eastern plains and hills. My purpose was simple: to listen. Over the past few months, I had already been spending long hours in tea shops, buses, and college campuses talking with ordinary people. Those conversations had convinced me that public frustration with traditional political parties had reached an unusual level. Still, I wanted to see whether that sentiment was truly widespread or simply limited to a few urban circles and social media.

So I decided to travel—from the Madhes districts toward Jhapa—to hear directly from voters on the move. The journey began around 10 in the morning in a small tea shop in Hetauda. In front of the shop, a line of microbuses waited to depart, filled with passengers heading back to their home constituencies to vote. Elections in Nepal always bring this familiar movement—students, workers, and migrants returning home to cast their ballots. Curious about the mood, I asked one passenger a simple question: “Which party will you vote for?”

He answered without hesitation: “I will vote for the Ghanti.”

“Ghanti,” the Nepali word for bell, is the election symbol of the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP). Within minutes several others joined the conversation. One after another, they said the same thing—they were voting for “Ghanti.” Interestingly, many of them did not even know the name of the local candidate representing RSP. Their reasoning was straightforward: they wanted to see a new political force rise. For them, supporting the bell symbol represented change.

Some even spoke enthusiastically about wanting to see Kathmandu’s mayor, Balen Shah, take on a national leadership role someday. After spending some time there, I continued my journey toward the Madhes districts. Along the highway I stopped at several small tea shops—those familiar roadside gathering points where farmers, drivers, students, and shopkeepers debate everything from local politics to international affairs.

What struck me most during these conversations was not just the curiosity about a new party, but the depth of fatigue with the old ones. In district after district, people spoke about wanting to give someone new a chance. In Sarlahi, I met an 85-year-old man sitting quietly in a tea shop courtyard. When I asked about his voting preference, he smiled and said he would vote for the new party. “I have given many chances to the old parties,” he said calmly. “This time I want to give someone new an opportunity.”

His words captured a sentiment I had heard repeatedly during the journey—not simply anger, but exhaustion. Many voters were not necessarily hostile toward the traditional parties; they simply felt those parties had already been tested many times and had failed to deliver the change people had hoped for.

As my journey continued eastward, I eventually reached Jhapa. In Jhapa-5, I stopped at a small haircut salon. While waiting, I asked the barber about the local election atmosphere. He told me he was originally from Morang-3 and was preparing to travel there to vote. “Over the past two months,” he said, “almost everyone who came here said they would vote for the new party this time.”

A day before the election, I walked through several areas considered strongholds of traditional political parties. Normally such areas are filled with party flags and banners during campaign season. This time the visual landscape looked different. The flags of the Nepali Congress and CPN-UML were surprisingly rare. Instead, the bell symbol associated with RSP appeared frequently across houses, shops, and roadside poles.

It was difficult to determine whether this reflected stronger grassroots enthusiasm or simply more visible campaigning. But compared to previous elections, the difference was striking. During my stay in Jhapa-5, I also had the opportunity to share tea with several families. One particular conversation revealed a generational divide I had been noticing across the country. In a family of three—a father, mother, and a 21-year-old college student—the son passionately argued that the family should support the new political party. The father, a long-time supporter of UML, was hesitant to abandon the party he had supported for decades.

The mother eventually suggested a compromise: one vote for Balen and another for UML. Similar conversations seemed to be unfolding in many households. Younger voters were strongly pushing for new political alternatives, while older family members remained emotionally tied to the parties that had shaped Nepal’s political history.

In another home nearby, a father tried to persuade his daughter to remain loyal to the party he had supported all his life. She listened respectfully but appeared unconvinced. These quiet debates inside homes reflected something deeper: Nepal’s political loyalties were slowly shifting.

Throughout Jhapa I also met several committed party supporters of CPN-UML who openly expressed frustration with their own leadership. Some longtime party cadres complained about internal factionalism, leadership styles, and the growing distance between senior leaders and ordinary supporters.

By the end of the day, after nearly four hours of conversations across tea shops, homes, and small businesses, one impression stood out clearly: voters were eager for change, though not necessarily united behind a single political alternative. Later that evening, back at the hotel, the staff were packing their bags to return home to vote. I casually asked them about their preferences.

They laughed. “Dai, do you still have confusion?” one of them said. “Of course we are voting for the bell.” The next morning, before voting officially began, I visited a polling station near the hotel. Around nine o’clock, an energetic elderly man—well into his seventies—walked out after casting his ballot.

When I asked him about the atmosphere inside, he confidently replied that many voters there seemed to be choosing the bell symbol. Throughout the day I visited several polling stations. While it is impossible to know exactly how people vote inside the booth, the conversations outside suggested that many voters were reconsidering long-standing party loyalties.

The reasons behind this shift appeared consistent across districts. People repeatedly spoke about corruption scandals, dissatisfaction with governance, lack of job opportunities, and the painful reality of watching young people leave the country in search of work. Among these concerns, employment stood out as the most urgent.

At the same time, voters did not express blind trust in the new political actors either. What they demanded most was accountability—clear answers, transparent leadership, and tangible results rather than speeches. By the time I completed my journey from the Madhes districts to Jhapa, one conclusion seemed unavoidable: the psychological environment of this election felt different from previous ones.

Now the election results are out. As anticipated, the Rastriya Swatantra Party has secured nearly a two-thirds majority in the 275-member House of Representatives, and Balendra Shah is poised to become the next prime minister.

The conversations I heard along the road help explain why. Across tea shops, buses, salons, and family kitchens, people repeatedly spoke about their exhaustion with traditional political parties. Many felt those parties had dominated politics for decades but had failed to deliver the jobs, governance, and opportunities citizens expected.

Yet the mood was not defined by frustration alone. It was also filled with hope. People now expect the new government to control corruption, create employment, strengthen governance, and restore a sense of trust between citizens and the state.

Whether those expectations can be fulfilled remains to be seen. But one thing is already clear. Across the country—from the plains of the Madhes to the eastern towns of Jhapa—citizens are questioning old loyalties, debating politics more openly, and demanding greater accountability from those who seek to represent them.