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There is a quiet yet undeniable power in the way human beings treat one another. It does not announce itself loudly, yet it lasts far longer than anything material ever could. A simple smile can ease the weight of a long and exhausting day. A gentle word can heal sadness that no one else can see. A small act of kindness can remain in someone’s memory for a lifetime. In a world that is becoming more mechanical, distracted, and emotionally distant by the day, exceptional service is no longer just a professional requirement. It has become a deeply human responsibility. In its purest form, it is an expression of humanity itself.

Many people misunderstand service as something mechanical. They think it is simply about completing tasks serving food, checking in guests, answering calls, or resolving complaints. But true service is not measured by tasks completed; it is measured by emotions touched. Exceptional service goes beyond duty and enters the realm of empathy. It is the ability to make another person feel seen when they feel invisible, respected when they feel overlooked, and safe when they feel unsettled. That is why people rarely remember the luxury of a place or the price they paid. What stays with them is how they were made to feel.

We live in a time when emotional exhaustion has quietly become normal. People wake up already burdened, carry invisible pressures throughout the day, and go to sleep with thoughts they cannot fully express. Many are fighting silent battles, loneliness never spoken about, financial worries hidden behind polite smiles, heartbreak carried quietly in public, and stress that never fully disappears. In such a time, even the smallest moment of kindness becomes powerful. Exceptional service does not simply meet a need; it becomes a brief refuge from life’s heaviness.

Human beings are not driven by logic alone; they are deeply shaped by emotion. Long after words fade and transactions end, feelings remain etched in memory. That is where the true art of service lives.

Yet many people working in the hospitality and service industries underestimate the impact of their actions. A warm greeting at a hotel entrance may feel routine, but to a guest who feels invisible, it can mean everything. A glass of water offered without being asked may seem insignificant, but to someone who has endured a difficult journey, it becomes comfort itself. A patient ear offered to an angry or frustrated customer may not appear extraordinary, but to that person, it may restore their belief that kindness still exists. At its highest level, service is not just interaction; it is emotional healing disguised as everyday work.

The hospitality industry exists because of human connection. Buildings, interiors, and luxury may attract attention once, but they cannot create loyalty on their own. People return to places not because they were impressed, but because they were emotionally touched. A simple restaurant with modest furniture can feel more welcoming than a luxurious dining hall if the people inside make guests feel they belong. When someone remembers a guest’s name, sincerely asks about their wellbeing, or serves with genuine warmth rather than routine politeness, they create something no design or marketing budget can replicate: emotional belonging.

Exceptional service begins the moment we stop seeing people as “customers” and start seeing them as human beings carrying invisible stories. Every guest carries something we cannot see. The quiet man sitting in the corner may be carrying grief. The impatient guest may be exhausted by the pressures of life. The traveler checking into a hotel may be escaping stress they cannot explain. When service professionals recognize this truth, something shifts within them. Their responses become more patient, their tone more understanding, and their presence more compassionate. They no longer simply react; they connect.

As the modern world is increasingly being dominated by machines, automation, and digital systems, human warmth has become rare and therefore priceless. Technology can answer questions and complete processes, but it cannot comfort a tired heart or recognize unspoken sadness. Only a human being can do that.

Behind every smooth guest experience are individuals carrying invisible emotional weight. Hospitality employees often stand for long hours, smile through fatigue, work during holidays, and manage emotional challenges guests rarely see. They absorb frustration, calm tensions, and maintain warmth even when personally exhausted. This emotional labor is one of the most underappreciated forms of strength..

Exceptional service also reveals character. It shows who a person truly is when comfort disappears and pressure rises. It is easy to remain polite when everything is calm. But true professionalism is tested when situations become difficult when guests are upset, mistakes happen, or emotions run high. In those moments, remaining calm, respectful, and compassionate is not just a skill; it is maturity. It is the understanding that every reaction has the power either to hurt or to heal.

One of the most powerful truths about service is that people may forget words, but they never forget feelings. A single negative encounter can destroy trust instantly, while one deeply positive experience can create loyalty that lasts for years. This is why exceptional service is not merely a skill; it leaves a lasting impact on human memory and emotion.

These days companies invest heavily in advertisements and promotions to attract attention. Yet the most powerful form of marketing has never changed: genuine human experience. A truly satisfied guest becomes a storyteller. They share their experiences with friends, family, and even strangers. Kindness spreads naturally without needing a budget. Discounts fade from memory, but emotional experiences endure.

At its core, exceptional service is about dignity. Every person regardless of status, wealth, or background deserves to be treated with respect. When service is delivered with sincerity and equality, it becomes more than professionalism; it becomes humanity in action. Sometimes, a simple respectful interaction can change someone’s entire day. Sometimes, it can even change how they see themselves and the world around them.

In the end, the art of exceptional service is not about perfection, luxury, or procedures. It is about the heart. It is about creating moments in which people feel valued for who they are. Years may pass, places may change, and details may fade, but people will always remember how they were treated in their most vulnerable moments. Because at its deepest level, exceptional service is not just something we provide. It is something we give from within. It is kindness translated into action. It is humanity made visible. And that is why it never loses its power; with time, it only becomes more important.

For a long while, I have been thinking about jumping into the world of podcasting. Yet, despite tons of considerations and reflections, I am still torn about it. It is not just about being aware and conscious about the challenges of coming up with a strong product.

A podcast, after all, must be engaging and able to capture the listeners’ attention for a long period. You have to be able to find the right formula, the right contents and the right approach to discuss and deal with certain topics. Moreover, it is also very costly.

There is a financial dimension of creating a product of such type in this digital era that cannot be discounted. Linked to this, there is also a commercial side of the equation, especially if you want to monetize the product to, at least cover, the expenses that its launch and production would entail.

But I found myself undecided and torn. The reason is not really about the technical, financial and administrative aspects of launching a podcast that in no way can I downplay or ignore. There are other sides that I cannot avoid taking into account. These are directly associated with the role that podcasting or, by extension, any related social media-centered news contents have in our society.

The problem is that the vast majority of these contents are not really about journalism. They are just about sensationalism and clickbait.

I was pulled to write about this issue after reading an article on the Kathmandu Post written by Daya Dudraj about how many members of the parliament are literally tormented by pseudo journalists bombarding them with silly and inappropriate questions. A disclaimer here is needed.

I am not myself a journalist and I never seriously thought about formally becoming one even though, I must admit, a few times the idea of formally applying to get this accreditation crossed my mind. But I do love writing and sharing my opinions, reflections and propositions and I believe this is my small contribution to the society and place where I have been living for so many years.

My approach to social media is one casted in hesitation. I never embraced them and only a few years ago I pushed myself into the only professional social media site because, at the end of the day, I need to be pragmatic and enhance my network. Yet I am aware that I am like a salmon fishing against the stream and is at risk of finding itself out of water because the vast majority of people, especially youths, are so much entrenched (and dependent) on social media.

If you are good at them and if you are skillful enough, you can amass tons of viewers, your contents can spread and become known. You become trendy and possibly, there is a good chance you can also make some good money out of it. Yet social media can be seen as a sort of shortcut to fame and celebrity.

As such, getting recognition from these tools might not lead anyone far in the long term because ultimately you always have to put in hard work to succeed. And in this world where becoming viral is the most important thing, it is quite tough to understand and decipher not only the truth from falsehood. But it is not just about differentiating between white and black, lies from facts.

It is much more complex especially when there are so many people online aiming to offer a public service in the form of news sharing and news telling.  But the problem is that for most of the cases, like the ones shared by Dudraj in his article, we are not at all talking about public service. 

If done professionally and ethically, journalism can be described as the soul and essence of doing public service. This kind of journalism is really different in its aims and overarching purpose. It is about reporting facts and different perspectives and opinions, directly contributing to a serious conversation about things that matter to the society. And with social media-based products, it is also hard to distinguish professionalism from mediocrity or just utterly abysmal work.

Unfortunately, journalism is not only having a tough time but it is facing an existential crisis and artificial intelligence is going to make it worse. People, including youths, do not make any more of that investment in time, energy and yes, attention that good journalism would expect from its users.

It is granted that, at the base, there is a reading crisis because people are more and more hooked to their smartphones even though their real impact is making all of us dumber. In such a scenario, swarms of improvised content creators are vying for our attention by offering products that, though viral oftentimes, are mediocre at best. Certainly, there are also good productions out there but it is hard to differentiate them from the waves of low-quality ones.

It is clear that traditional media need to adapt and adjust to survive.

One of the most, if not the most authoritative media outlets in the world, the New York Times, has embedded videos in its work where journalists tend to summarize, also through self-made short videos, their articles. But replicating this model is not feasible for most of the news outlets in crisis-ridden countries. 

Yet should quality-focused media in a country like Nepal only aim at survival? Isn’t their function and role in our society so important that a top national priority should be finding ways to let them thrive and enrich our social fabric through conversations?

I have no doubts that the answer to these questions should lead to a major reckoning, including on what the state can and should do, even when the national economy is not so healthy, to help turn around this situation.

Schools at all levels should have an equally important role in instilling the habits of reading news (and non-school textbooks) to their students. When teachers themselves have lost the habit of reading quality news and simply have no clue about what an opinion essay is about, then we really have a problem. The family should also play a very important role but it is getting harder and harder to find parents equipped and invested in helping their children understand how essential it is to spend time reading news.

We might not realize now the losses we will face if media outlets disappear. At least, out of this grim scenario, amid a sea of low-level contents, there is a silver lining: the fact that people are still interested to know what is happening. While there was a high degree of indifference on national politics before the Sept 2025 uprising, the scenario has changed now.

People want to know what the new federal government is doing and amid the various controversies and some positive developments brought by the Balen Shah Administration, it is paramount that citizens can be able to turn to credible, trustworthy media. New ways of reporting and making news must raise their bar and be able to meet the standards that good journalism requires but then we need to face some existential questions.

Can the new government do something about this situation? Can global philanthropy step in and be supported so that it will be easy for local newspapers and media outlets to benefit? Can schools and families realize that they are failing on one of their most important missions, educating the future generations on how to form personal opinions, an essential pillar of any functioning democracy, without which our society could literally crumble? Most importantly, are each of us, as members of the society, ready to step up and do something?

We might not realize but our future is really at stake. Supporting journalism in Nepal and elsewhere should become a top priority on a par with fighting climate change and ensuring that AI does not destroy our lives.

Tourism today is no longer merely the movement of people across borders. It has become an expression of politics, perception, and power—subtle, but deeply consequential.

Borders are not defined only by geography anymore. They are shaped by diplomacy, trust, and strategic alignment. Air routes respond as much to geopolitical calculations as to commercial demand. And traveler confidence is now influenced as much by global headlines as by destination beauty.

For Nepal, this is not an external observation. It is an internal reality we must confront with clarity. Situated between two major powers—India and China—Nepal has always lived within geopolitics. But what is new is the intensity. Tourism, once relatively insulated, is now fully embedded within this global equation.

The Geopolitics of Mobility

The global tourism landscape is undergoing a quiet but fundamental transformation. Conflicts such as the Russia-Ukraine War and the US–Iran tensions in early 2026 have not only disrupted regional stability; they have reshaped global aviation routes, insurance frameworks, and even the psychology of travel itself. What was once predictable is now conditional.

Nepal is not part of these conflicts. Yet we feel their aftershocks.Longer flight paths, rising costs, and cautious traveler sentiment all filter into our tourism economy. Often, the hesitation is not about Nepal at all—it is about the uncertainty of the world we are connected to.

This distinction is important, but easily overlooked.

The Infrastructure Paradox

Tourism depends on access. But access today is no longer purely technical—it is geopolitical. Our reliance on TribhuvanInternational Airport reflects a deeper structural limitation. It is not just congestion or capacity. It is concentration of risk.

The new international airports—Pokhara International Airport and Gautam Buddha International Airport—represent ambition and foresight. But infrastructure alone does not guarantee connectivity.

Airlines make decisions based on stability, profitability, and geopolitical predictability. In other words, access is earned, not declared.

This is a reality Nepal must internalize more seriously than it has so far.

Visa Policy as Statecraft

Visa policy is no longer administrative detail. It is diplomatic language. Nepal’s visa-on-arrival system remains one of its strongest assets. It signals openness in a world increasingly defined by restriction.

But openness alone is no longer enough. We need efficiency layered onto openness—digital systems, faster processing, and market-sensitive facilitation. In a global tourism economy defined by speed, delays are no longer neutral; they are competitive disadvantages.

This is where governance becomes economic strategy.

Gen Z and the Politics of Visibility

One of the most significant but under-discussed shifts in Nepal’s tourism narrative is the rise of its youth as a visible political and digital force. The Gen Z-led civic movement of 2025 in Nepal reflected a generational demand for accountability, transparency, and institutional responsiveness. It was domestic in origin, but global in visibility. And this visibility matters.

In today’s digital environment, perception is not formed slowly—it is formed instantly. Often without context.

For international audiences, Nepal is no longer represented only through mountains and trekking routes. It is also represented through civic expression, digital activism, and generational voice. In the short term, this can create misinterpretation. Any visible movement risks being read as instability by risk-sensitive travelers. That is the reality of perception economies.

But we should not stop at the short-term reading. Because in the longer arc, something more important is taking shape. A politically aware, digitally literate youth does not weaken national image. It modernizes it. It signals a society that is engaged, vocal, and evolving—not stagnant. In global tourism, this matters more than we often acknowledge.

Soft power today is not only built through culture. It is built through societal character. And in that sense, Nepal’s Gen Z is not outside the tourism narrative. It is becoming part of how the world reads Nepal.

Narrative over Geography

Nepal’s geographic position remains one of its strongest strategic advantages. Between India and China, Nepal occupies a rare diplomatic space. In an increasingly fragmented world, neutrality is not weakness—it is positioning.

Tourists today are not only seeking beauty. They are seeking meaning, stability, and authenticity. From Mount Everest to the stark isolation of Upper Mustang and the remoteness of Dolpo, Nepal offers experiences few countries can replicate.

But experience alone is not enough. What converts experience into sustained tourism strength is narrative clarity.

Nepal’s Branding Blind Spot

Let us be honest. Nepal’s challenge is not visibility. It is coherence. We are seen, but not always understood consistently.

Institutions like the Nepal Tourism Board must move beyond promotion. The task now is strategic narrative construction.Tourism branding in the 21st century is not about imagery alone. It is about integrated storytelling—across diplomacy, media, and lived visitor experience.

If we do not define ourselves clearly, others will define us incompletely.

The Unfinished Regional Vision

Tourism cannot grow in isolation from regional mobility.Platforms like the South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation remain underutilized. Yet they hold the potential to create integrated travel circuits across South Asia.

Such connectivity would allow Nepal to move from being a destination to becoming a node in a wider regional experience economy.

But this requires political will that extends beyond tourism departments.

The Policy Imperative

Three shifts are now necessary—not optional.

First, aviation must be treated as diplomacy. Connectivity is a geopolitical asset, not just an infrastructure outcome.

Second, perception management must be institutionalized. Nepal needs structured capacity for global narrative engagement and crisis communication.

Third, youth must be integrated into soft power strategy. The Gen Z generation should be seen not as a reputational risk, but as representational capital.

The Way Forward 

Tourism in the age of geopolitics is no longer about arrivals and departures. It is about positioning, influence, and perception.

For Nepal, the question is not whether geopolitics affects tourism. It already does, deeply and continuously. The real question is whether we will remain reactive to it—or begin to use it strategically.

Because in today’s world, the most successful tourism destinations are not only naturally gifted. They are strategically self-aware.

​Prime Minister Balendra Shah has recently drawn sharp criticism for his persistent evasion of public and political dialogue. This controversial trend reached a climax during a recent parliamentary session when he staged a ‘walkout’ while President Ramchandra Paudel was presenting the government's policies and programs—ironically, a roadmap his own administration helped draft. Furthermore, established parliamentary precedent dictates that the PM must directly face questions from lawmakers and defend the government’s agenda. Instead, PM Shah chose to deflect this responsibility, shifting the burden to Finance Minister Swornim Wagle.

​Remarkably, Shah has not formally addressed the parliament a single time since assuming the high office, nor has he delivered a formal address of gratitude to his voters or party faithful. This calculated distance extends to the media as well, mirroring his past behavior. On the rare occasions he does speak publicly, his remarks are brief and highly guarded. This ongoing reticence has sparked widespread debate across the political spectrum, leaving both the public and parliamentarians to question whether his silence is a manifestation of an introverted personality or a deliberate disregard for democratic institutions.

Action v accountability: The introvert label

​The PM’s body language, measured speech and overall demeanor suggest an introverted personality. While introverts naturally prefer to listen rather than speak, individuals holding high public office do not have the luxury of silence. A leader backed by a popular mandate must embody public accountability, fiercely guard citizen rights and remain constantly accessible for constructive dialogue. When answers are demanded, a political leader must provide them with transparency, facts and poise. Paradoxically, PM Shah—who rose to power on a massive wave of grassroots popularity—continues to systematically evade public scrutiny.

​This evasion is particularly baffling, given the PM’s background. As a seasoned rap artist, his lyrical sharpness and vocal command are undeniable. Prior to his election as the Mayor of Kathmandu Metropolitan City, his television interviews showcased a sharp, analytical mind capable of delivering compelling, logical arguments. His fiery speeches during the election campaign preceding March 4  captivated the public. Clearly, he does not lack interpersonal or communication skills. Why, then, does the PM continue to avoid the press and the legislature? Who, if anyone, is advising him to remain silent?

The influence of Manmohan Singh and Narsingh Byanjankar

​Sources close to PM Shah argue that he is a leader who prefers execution over empty rhetoric. Supporters point to his administrative overhauls and educational reforms during his tenure as Kathmandu's Mayor, asserting that his work speaks louder than any speech. During those mayoral days, citizens could at least witness his governance firsthand through Facebook Live broadcasts of municipal meetings. Beyond that, however, he remained largely inaccessible.

​Another circle within his camp claims that the PM’s quiet demeanor is consciously modeled after India’s former PM Manmohan Singh, a leader renowned for his quiet intellect. An academic and economist before entering politics, PM Singh eschewed theatrical political speeches in favor of calm, data-driven arguments. His philosophy was rooted in the belief that “actions speak louder than words,” a trait that defined a decade-long tenure marked by historic economic growth. However, Singh's silence also made him an easy target for the opposition, who frequently labeled him the ‘Silent Prime Minister’. For Singh, silence was also a tactical necessity to maintain stability within a fragile coalition government.

PM Shah is also said to be deeply influenced by the late Narsingh Byanjankar, a legendary independent politician who secured ten consecutive terms as the chair of ward number 10 in Lalitpur Metropolitan City. Byanjankar’s relentless work ethic was historic; he served his community day and night, visiting citizens at their doorsteps to resolve local grievances. Shah has openly revered Byanjankar as his ‘political guru’ and currently employs his son, Kumar Ben (Kumar Byanjankar), as his chief advisor. Observers note that Mayor Shah was profoundly inspired by Byanjankar’s ability to maintain decades of political relevance through pure public service without ever aligning with a major political party.

​A departure from mentors

​While modeling oneself after leaders like Singh or Byanjankar is commendable, PM Shah’s recent parliamentary conduct aligns with neither. Though Singh was soft-spoken, he never staged an undignified walkout during a speech by the head of state. Similarly, Byanjankar’s decade-long electoral success was built on deep, familial relationships with his constituents. He never shut out his voters or avoided their questions.

​In this regard, the PM’s behavior departs sharply from the virtues of his mentors. While he possesses undeniable strengths and did not reach the nation’s highest executive office by accident, his merits are increasingly overshadowed by an obstinate silence and an individualistic attitude.