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Forty years ago, the South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation (SAARC) Charter was signed. Despite its initial successes, South Asia today is politically and strategically fractured, economically least integrated and stuck when it comes to connectivity and diplomacy. With widening internal divisions and growing external demands, how should we look back to the four decades of SAARC and its future? 

Paradigm in peril: “After experiencing twice in their own lifetimes” the tragedies of the two World Wars, that generation of thinkers and leaders came together to create the United Nations to lead the world in transforming human behavior for “saving succeeding generations from the scourge of war” and other threats. After the deaths, devastation, and despair, the UN, standing on its three pillars, the Security Council, the Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC), and the Human Rights Council (initially named Commission), was to be the global repository of a new hope of collective human security, prosperity and dignity.

With the UN at the core, the International Financial Institutions (IFIs) and the ill-fated International Trade Organization (ITO), GATT—now the World Trade Organization (WTO)—were to assist in managing global financial, monetary and trading systems. Aimed at intellectually guiding this global transformation, a new academic discipline, International Affairs, Studies or Relations (IR), bringing together knowledge of history, geography, politics, economics, law, diplomacy and national security etc, also started in Western universities, which has now spread to all parts of the world. 

In both these new developments, there was an assumption that the inadequacies in understanding, codifying and guiding human relations individually, but more importantly relations among the highest and most powerful of the human institutions, the nation-states, were primarily responsible for the death and devastation. Now, of course, technology has fundamentally altered the understanding and application of sovereignty, power and interest, further amplifying the need for some form of convergence between national sovereignty and global governance with transformative IR and effective UN. Sadly, the Global Paradigm was in Peril for a long time. With the crisis in IR and post-Cold-War unilateralism the UN is totally marginalized in global affairs.

Regionalism, the next best hope: With the UN unable to come out of the Cold-War chasm, but regional cooperation in post-War Europe doing much better, some scholars and policy makers thought, perhaps, that cooperation for peace-security, prosperity and human dignity among countries within the same geographic region, with similar culture, stages of development, threat perceptions and security needs would have better prospects. Regionalism thus emerged as the next best hope in IR, a better approach to resolve disputes, avoid wars and promote peace and security, development, and human rights.

With European integration, it was assumed that regional organizations, their leaders and officials could better catalyze national interest harmonization, protecting and promoting individual national interests within the collective regional good. This in turn could act as the building block for future global transformation.

Establishment of SAARC: Aware of the power of the idea of regionalism and their region’s common problems of poverty and political violence, like in other parts of the world, seven heads of state and government of South Asia signed the Charter of the South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation (SAARC) in Dhaka, Bangladesh on 8th December 1985. “Promoting peace, stability, amity and progress in South Asia” for the welfare of the peoples of the region was the main goal. 

Right at the start, South Asian leaders identified two main areas for regional cooperation: Collective prosperity and regional security. With Afghanistan as the eighth member in 2007, the relevance of SAARC  in addressing the twin tragedies increased significantly. 

Early successes: From a modest start areas of cooperation multiplied, encompassing poverty alleviation to trade and finance, culture to environment, social development to security, science and technology to tourism. Eight agreements, including the South Asian Free Trade Area (SAFTA), six conventions including on Suppression of Terrorism and its additional protocol were signed. The Food Bank and Development Fund was meant to promote greater regional integration. SAARC Seed Bank, Multilateral Arrangement on Recognition of Conformity Assessment, Rapid Response to Natural Disaster and Implementation of Regional Standards were also signed.

The Social Charter and Charter of Democracy were steps toward common political and social order. The South Asian University could still spur greater intellectual interaction and innovation for greater regional consciousness, identity and cooperation. Sadly, performance hugely lags compared to potential. 

Intellectual traffic jam: Three decades after its establishment, Nepal was hosting the 18th SAARC Summit from 23-27 Nov 2014. As the host, the political leadership of the organization came to Nepal. For the second time, the secretariat was also headed by a Nepali and the third time the summit was being held in Kathmandu, where the secretariat is located.

All major global and regional actors (the US, China, Russia, Japan, Myanmar, Iran and South Korea) as observers of SAARC, reflected the pivotal position of South Asia in the post-Cold War world. With national leadership of vision and strong SG, this summit could have been a transformative moment for SAARC. 

As a member of the Summit Preparatory Committee, at the first meeting, I began my remarks by quoting a former SG—“SAARC has hardly progressed beyond signs and symbols”—and reminding the participants of the widespread criticism of SAARC for being ineffective. With Nepal assuming multiple leadership roles, I asked, “what kind of agenda should we propose, business as usual, incremental reforms or transformative?” 

Initially there was an all-round support for a transformative agenda. But from the second meeting the “intellectual traffic jam, political timidity and bureaucratic rigidity” started clogging the highway responsible for making SAARC unable to move forward.

After prolonged discussion, ‘Deeper Integration (Better Connectivity) for Peace and Prosperity’ was agreed as the summit theme. But support for deeper integration for peace and prosperity started diminishing and eventually the summit ended up being what SAARC summits have always been, rich in fanfare and declaratory rhetoric but little progress in addressing the real problems of the people of the region or a more unified position on external demands. “Neighborhood first or last?” dilemma and “beggar thy neighbor” policies keep South Asia divided and SAARC in “coma” today. 

Essentials remedies: This takes me back to the third SAARC Summit in 1987, the first in Nepal. In preparation for it, the Centre for Nepal and Asian Studies (CNAS) of the Tribhuvan University (TU), with which I was then associated, organized a seminar titled ‘SAARC: Retrospect and Prospect’. I started my paper “Nepal in SAARC, a Long-Term Perspective” with a question: What kind of regional cooperation are we talking about without Trade? Trade became one of the areas of cooperation later. 

The next issue I raised was the provision of the charter excluding bilateral and contentious (political and security) issues. The role of the secretariat only as an administrative unit and the level of the secretary-general (SG), a mid-level career official, was the third issue I identified for discussion. Finally, the overly state-centric nature of the organization was, in my view, problematic. With this diagnosis, I proposed three remedies:

1. Strengthening the Secretariat and upgrading the level of the SG, enabling and empowering him/her to more effectively implement the decisions of the inter-governmental bodies and promote regionalism by harmonizing national interests of individual member-states within the larger regional good

2. Greater role for civil society to take up issues that may seem politically contentious for the inter-governmental process to take up immediately but too important to be left out completely

3. A confidence building process by establishing a Council for Dispute Settlement composed of elder statesmen and intellectuals to discuss issues excluded from the inter-governmental process until the charter can be reviewed and amended to strengthen SAARC as a mature institution able to discuss more substantive bilateral political and security issues, which are the main impediments to real regional cooperation

My conclusions then were, without addressing these issues, SAARC will be busy only in marginal issues and diplomatic fanfare but unable to really move regional cooperation forward in any significant way. Since then, I have moved from academia to public service, diplomacy to conflict resolution and peacemaking. In my academic-professional-diplomatic roles, I have spoken and written on the need to ‘Transform SAARC to Prepare South Asia for a New Age’, with emphasis on the issues identified in that short paper.

Almost three decades later, the 18th summit came and went. Not just the 19th summit remains in limbo, but SAARC and South Asia continue at the same crossroads of time and space, history and geography, only in many ways moving backward in regional cooperation. The only difference is, with the new Asian Century, China in the north and India at its center, the Indo-Pacific, South Asia  and the Central Himalayas have emerged as one of the global political, economic and strategic epicenters, significantly increasing opportunities and risks for the region. 

As a student, teacher and practitioner, I have advocated rethinking IR and regional cooperation for long. Today, I am both happy and sad that the discourse on SAARC, its marginalization or BIMSTEC and its revitalization, revolve around the same issues I have raised for four decades. 

The author deals extensively with these issues in his new book “SAARC to BIMSTEC:Breakdown or Breakthrough in Regional Cooperation in South Asia”, being published by a leading Indian publisher in early 2026

Nepal’s political landscape has been shaped repeatedly by acts of betrayal, and today’s GenZ movement finds itself encircled by similar breaches of trust—both from state institutions and non-state forces. This pattern is not new. Twenty years after the 2006 Second People’s Movement, that abolished the monarchy and established a federal republic, Nepal witnessed another youth-led uprising in Sept 2025, commonly referred to as the “GenZ” movement. The protesters’ core demands centered on ending systemic corruption, addressing mass unemployment, lifting restrictions on social media, holding the state accountable and dismantling entrenched old power structures. While some voices within the movement called for constitutional amendments or a directly-elected prime minister, the demand for immediate elections was not the primary focus.

Nevertheless, in response President Ramchandra Paudel dissolved the House of Representatives, appointed former Chief Justice Sushila Karki as interim prime minister and announced fresh elections within six months. Many observers see this rapid dissolution and election announcement as the latest instance of the state deflecting, rather than addressing, popular demands for systemic change.

Whether this abrupt move constitutes a deliberate strategy to defuse and ultimately neutralize the GenZ youth rebellion remains a critical question that warrants serious national debate.

Whither constitutional legitimacy?

After the government collapsed and Parliament was dissolved, the nation was left without leadership. Holding fresh elections and seeking a new public mandate appeared to be the most legitimate and constitutional way forward. It would have ensured that the interim government remained only a temporary arrangement, functioning strictly within constitutional limits. However, this path was never pursued.

The President should have first explored the possibility of forming a new government from within the existing Parliament, safeguarding constitutional integrity and institutional dignity. The more democratic alternative would have been to respond to the aspirations of the youth, bring their concerns to the floor of Parliament, and open meaningful avenues for their representation and participation in state governance. Nepal has taken such steps before—it is not a distant chapter of history.

Yet, the interpretation of the symbolic burning of ‘parliament’ during the movement as an attack on the institution itself has now become a contentious matter, one that may shape political debates and institutional behaviour far into the future.

Some argue that calling for fresh elections in the midst of a power vacuum is merely an effort to preserve the existing power structure. Others claim that this step does not resolve constitutional deadlocks but stands in direct violation of the constitution. Meanwhile, even as the demand for parliamentary restoration remains under judicial review, the very parties advocating for it are preparing to contest elections scheduled for March 5 next year. This, in effect, suggests that they have dismissed the spirit of the GenZ movement.

For some, elections were presented as a way to absorb the movement’s energy—redirecting youthful activism from the streets into parliamentary politics. Yet this logic contradicts the core of the youth uprising, which never demanded immediate elections. The protests exerted intense pressure on those in power, but following the election declaration, criticism has grown that the President’s decision—taken in the belief that street anger could be channeled into ballot papers—constitutes a profound betrayal of the movement’s purpose. In response, a segment of the youth now questions whether another uprising is needed to secure the goals for which they first took to the streets.

A bid to signal stability

By announcing the election date, the President appears to be projecting a message—both domestically and internationally—that Nepal is moving from instability toward procedural normalcy. Despite the scheduled elections creating an impression of institutional restoration, the conditions for a fair and credible vote are still far from secure. If the elections were to be cancelled under such circumstances, the country could face another crisis, reminiscent of events like prison breakouts and the burning of government buildings during previous unrest.

A limited mandate

The interim administration has been granted only one primary task: to conduct elections. This narrow mandate risks entrenching the same old power structures riddled with corruption. In such an environment, the possibility of the GenZ movement returning to the streets remains high. The interim government itself has repeatedly clarified that its role is not to engineer systemic change, but merely to steer the country back to the constitutional path through elections.

Yet, elections within six months are no cure-all. The challenges ahead are immense. The youth-led uprising has demanded deeper structural reforms—reforms that are currently not being addressed. The President’s decision to withhold authority from the interim government to amend the constitution or initiate institutional restructuring stands in stark contradiction to the spirit of transition. This raises a real risk that elections may simply reopen the door for the old parties to regain power.

There is also constitutional ambiguity regarding the appointment of a prime minister from outside Parliament following its dissolution. Fears persist that those powers granted in the present could be misused in the future.

Trust, reform and inclusion

Nepal is navigating a turbulent period. Institutions are weakened, and public trust in the state is steadily eroding. In such a context, six months is a short window. Rushed elections may favor established political forces rather than fairness or reform. If grievances over unemployment, corruption, exclusion and limited opportunity remain unaddressed, dissatisfaction could resurface even more strongly.

Simply announcing elections and releasing attractive party manifestos cannot restore people’s faith in the existing order. Trust must be rebuilt through visible action. The interim government must prioritise transparency and accountability from day one. Public disclosure of assets—from ministers and top officials to senior policymakers—is essential to reinforce integrity in state leadership.

Sensitive corruption cases must be pursued without delay, and the law must be allowed to act decisively. Only then will citizens feel the beginning of change. Equally crucial is the meaningful inclusion of youth, experts, women, indigenous communities and civil society in candidate selection and electoral rule-making—because inclusive participation is the foundation of genuine democracy.

Before the election day arrives, Nepal needs a broad national dialogue on long-overdue reforms and on the review of vague or disputed constitutional provisions. Such deliberation can set the groundwork for stability, improve governance and gradually rebuild public confidence in the system.

Some people still ask whether the GenZ movement existed solely to place Sushila Karki in KP Sharma Oli’s chair, dissolve the House of Representatives two years ahead of schedule and push the country into yet another election costing billions. It did not—and it certainly should not have. Yet the “Oli-like” tendencies now emerging in Prime Minister Karki, the evolving political landscape and the likely faces poised to win if elections proceed on March 5, have together created a climate of growing doubt. As a result, what began as a transformative moment risks being remembered as a political detour.

Unfinished revolution

In the aftermath of the GenZ uprising, Nepal’s political sphere has entered a period of rapid churn—splits, mergers and reconfigurations have become weekly rituals. Dozens of new parties have emerged, led by individuals seeking to capture the energy generated on the streets. Older parties, meanwhile, continue to recycle their leadership and structures in an attempt to remain relevant. The once-entrenched dominance of the big three—the Nepali Congress, CPN-UML and the CPN (Maoist Center)—has weakened to an extent, and non-establishment voices within major parties now enjoy more space to speak.

However, these shifts—loud, visible and dramatic—fall significantly short of what the moment demanded. The sacrifices made by GenZ protesters called for substantive political transformation: a rethinking of governance, the dismantling of patronage networks, and above all, a generational transition in leadership that Nepal has delayed for far too long. Instead, the agenda of the movement has been diluted. Old political habits, long discredited, have resurfaced in new packaging.

The GenZ movement itself has fractured, as mass protest movements often do, but it remains undeniably a force. The current government exists because young people took to the streets. It is also true that even if ministers belong to older generations, they cannot simply dismiss the movement’s aspirations. Public support for its core concerns—integrity, transparency, accountability, generational inclusion—remains robust, despite early signs that partisan loyalties are slowly reverting to traditional alignments.

Accusations of foreign involvement continue to circulate, as they do in every major political upheaval in Nepal, but none has yielded anything of substance. Those who marched know they were not deployed by external actors. Their grievance was domestic, immediate and undeniable: a political system that had become immune to public outrage and unresponsive to genuine reform.

A crisis of legitimacy

With political authority drifting away from parties and toward ad hoc arrangements, the country urgently needs an election to restore legitimacy. Yet preparations by both old and new forces appear woefully inadequate. Established parties fear a public rebuke; they sense that voters may not forgive their role in years of stagnation. New political forces, despite their enthusiasm, remain fragmented and uncertain of their electoral prospects. Many lack the organizational depth needed to contest nationwide elections effectively.

The interim government, meanwhile, has adopted a posture of comfort. If elections occur on time, it benefits from appearing cooperative; if delays arise, its tenure simply stretches on. This ambiguity has eroded public trust. The youth who risked their lives for political renewal now watch a government drifting without urgency.

Amid this uncertainty, efforts to use GenZ factions as political instruments have become increasingly visible. Some youth leaders, disillusioned with the government’s performance, now argue that the Karki administration has failed to uphold the spirit of the movement. They have even floated former Chief Justice Kalyan Shrestha as a potential alternative prime minister—an idea that reveals both dissatisfaction and desperation.

Where Karki has fallen short

There is some truth to their criticism. Karki’s government has not lived up to the transformative mandate it inherited. But this reflects not only her leadership; it reflects the unchanged landscape around her. The constitution remains the same. Senior officials, courts, the bureaucracy and long-established political networks remain largely untouched. The interim government is composed of loyalists with limited experience, each carrying their own political weaknesses and personal constituencies.

Brokers—old and new—have already penetrated the government’s inner circles. Even within GenZ itself, personal rivalries and factional disputes are beginning to surface. In such an environment, prolonged interim politics risks turning the state into a venue for narrow interest-seeking. National interest is often the first casualty. Nepal now stands uncomfortably close to that precipice.

Karki’s elevation to the premiership was itself an experiment. She was appointed despite two constitutional constraints—she was not a member of the House, nor was she eligible for the executive role as a former chief justice. Her defenders justified her selection on grounds of maturity, legal expertise and her public reputation as a principled opponent of corruption and political patronage. These were compelling arguments at the time.

But her conduct in office has weakened the aura of moral authority she once enjoyed. Her unrestrained public remarks—claiming she accepted the post under pressure, or that she refuses to meet senior political leaders—have undermined the dignity of the position she holds. The office of the prime minister demands gravitas, restraint and an ability to navigate political complexities quietly and effectively. Instead, her comments have amplified doubts about her political temperament.

More serious, however, are her appointments. Attorney General Sabita Bhandari and Chief Personal Secretary Adarsha Kumar Shrestha, both controversial figures, have become liabilities for the government. Bhandari’s appointment contradicts the anti-nepotism sentiment that defined the GenZ movement. Shrestha, a temporary court clerk, was elevated without a clear merit-based justification. Both have since been linked to allegations of misconduct, including involvement in an illegal ova-trafficking case and the appointment of relatives to government positions.

Yet the government has taken little meaningful action. In one case, its response appeared to shield the accused while sidelining qualified GenZ activists who had expected at least some acknowledgement of their contribution. Such decisions cannot be reconciled with the ethos of the movement that brought this government to power. Instead, they echo the same arrogance of authority that GenZ rose against. Karki’s defense of her appointees mirrors, in troubling ways, the very tendencies associated with Oli.

The risk of betrayal

This raises a difficult and painful question: Did the GenZ movement simply replace one leader with another, without altering the system that produced them?

It did not—and it must not be allowed to. But if the current trajectory continues, the perception that the uprising achieved little beyond a change of faces will deepen. That would be a profound injustice to the martyrs of the movement. It would reduce their sacrifices to a historical footnote and burden their families with needless grief and unanswered questions.

The coming weeks offer a narrow but meaningful window for course correction.

What Karki must do—now

1.  Avoid replicating the authoritarian tendencies of her predecessors.

2. Exercise restraint and dignity in her public remarks.

3. Ensure that constitutional reasoning—not personal networks—guides all decisions.

4. Pursue accountability in cases linked to her controversial appointees; and

5. Ensure that the March 5 elections are held on time, without ambiguity or political bargaining.

Nepal cannot afford another wasted moment. The GenZ uprising was not merely a wave of youthful anger; it was a profound demand for dignity, accountability and a new political culture. Whether that call becomes a turning point—or fades into disillusionment—now rests largely with the prime minister.

The country waits. The youth watch closely. History will decide whether the promise of a generation was fulfilled—or betrayed.

The author is a senior Nepali journalist based in Washington, DC

I visited Ukraine from Nov 12–20  to attend the third edition of Crimea Global, organized by the Mission of the President of Ukraine in the Autonomous Republic of Crimea, the Office of the Crimea Platform, and several Ukrainian NGOs. The theme, “Crimea Global: Understanding Ukraine through the South”, brought together researchers, journalists, and experts from across continents: Mexico, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Brazil, Kyrgyzstan, India, Malaysia, Argentina, Myanmar, Nigeria, Costa Rica, Nepal, Kenya, and more. I spoke on a panel examining Russia’s recruitment of foreign citizens, including Nepalis, into its war against Ukraine, where around eight Nepalis are currently held as prisoners of war.

Since flights to Ukraine have been suspended since 2022 due to war, my journey began in the icy morning light of Warsaw. From there, we drove through the night toward Lviv in a small minivan. Whether it was Ukraine’s warm food or the exhaustion of travel, I slept soundly, even through an air-raid alarm that was meant to send me to the hotel’s basement bunker. I learned of it only at breakfast the next morning, the irony of my peaceful sleep against the backdrop of war making the moment feel strangely surreal.

Lviv: History, resilience, and compassion

Lviv greeted us with its layered history and quiet determination. In the early twentieth century, it was the only city in the world to host three Catholic Archbishops, a testament to its tradition of religious coexistence that shaped generations of thinkers and writers. We wandered through its cobblestone streets and met the City Mayor, who spoke about Russian attacks on the city and Lviv’s ongoing efforts to build inclusive urban infrastructure and help veterans reintegrate into daily life.

At the Lychakiv Cemetery, where nearly a thousand fallen defenders rest, and later at the Unbroken Ukraine Rehabilitation Center, we witnessed immense efforts, by local institutions and international partners, to heal the wounded, both military and civilian. Mayor Andriy Sadovy captured Ukraine’s spirit in one striking idea: Ukrainian victory has two inseparable parts, the de-occupation of its territories and the reconstruction of the country. Reconstruction, he stressed, cannot wait for the war’s end; it must continue even amid conflict, to sustain hope and the rhythm of daily life.

After days immersed in Lviv’s history and Europe’s renowned cuisine, we began our journey to Kharkiv, a city just 25 kilometres from the Russian border.

Kharkiv: On the frontline

As we approached one of Ukraine’s most targeted regions, news alerts lit up our phones: Kyiv was under a massive drone and missile attack by Russia. Reports spoke of 430 drones and 18 missiles launched on 14 November. Messages from friends in India, Nepal, and elsewhere poured in, their concern amplifying our unease. Though the world is witnessing the largest war in Europe since World War II, my family knew little of the risks I was taking. I had deliberately shielded them from the harshest realities.

Yet, once we reached Kharkiv, the anxieties softened. The crisp winter air, the richness of Ukrainian cuisine, the bright laughter of children studying in underground schools, and the warmth of local hospitality made us momentarily forget the war looming above.

We met the Deputy Head of the Kharkiv Regional Military Administration, who briefed us on how the region had endured nearly four years of full-scale invasion. Despite relentless shelling, Kharkiv continues to rebuild: underground hospitals and schools are expanding, safe education spaces multiplying, and reconstruction proceeding, even when it must take place beneath the earth. Our day was spent partly in devastated neighbourhoods such as Northern Saltivka, and partly in underground shelters for meetings and visits. I still cannot say whether I spent more time above ground or below it, but what I saw was a reality far removed from the world’s distant screens.

Kyiv: The city of golden domes

From Kharkiv, the “City of Students, Science, and Industry,” we travelled to Kyiv, the legendary “City of Golden Domes.” We arrived at midnight. By morning, Kyiv welcomed us with sunlight shimmering on its ancient rooftops. We explored the historic centre, Yaroslaviv Val, the Golden Gate, St. Sophia’s Cathedral, and Mykhailivska Square. Later, we visited the Ukrainian Council of Weapons to learn about the country’s rapidly growing defence industry.

In Lviv, I slept through the air-raid alarm. Kyiv did not grant such a fortune. On the first night, the warning siren drove us underground for an hour; on the last night, we remained in a cold bunker until dawn. We were considered lucky, our shelter had beds, water, and electricity. Many Ukrainians sleep through the night without any of these.

We also joined a closed-door roundtable on “Ukraine’s Resilience in War: Challenges, Responses, and International Support.” Conversations with parliamentarians, ambassadors, and officials from the President’s Office revealed the immense scale of suffering, and of steadfast resolve. Thousands of Ukrainian political prisoners are currently held by Russia. Ukraine, they told us, is fighting not only for its own freedom but for the security of Europe itself. In a war of this magnitude, three elements are decisive: international support, a technologically prepared army, and a competitive defence industry.

Nepal’s support to Ukraine

I was heartened to meet a few Nepali and Indian faces in the gatherings. It was striking to learn that fewer than ten Nepali families currently reside in all of Ukraine. Equally surprising was how little awareness there seemed to be about Nepal’s support during the conflict.

In March 2022, Nepal voted in favour of Ukraine’s call at the UN Human Rights Council for an urgent debate to condemn Russia’s military operation. Of the 29 nations that supported holding the debate, Nepal stood among them, while neighbouring giants chose different paths: China voted against, and India abstained.

Again, on Feb 25, Nepal voted in favour of the UN General Assembly resolution titled “Advancing a comprehensive, just, and lasting peace in Ukraine.” Nepal supported the resolution, while its immediate neighbours, India and China, abstained. Interestingly, the United States voted against it, alongside Russia. These moments reflected Nepal’s principled stance, something many Ukrainians were unaware of.

Reflections and hopes

After two days of intense discussions with Ukrainian and international experts, a country that had once been distant to us had transformed into a place filled with friendships, colours, and stories that will remain with us forever. As the train departed from Kyiv toward Poland, we passed through streets lined with brave, warm-hearted people, waving flags, holding flowers, dancing beside the windows. The scene was overwhelming. Yet we could neither let our tears fall nor look away from the emotion mirrored in their eyes.

When I returned home, I learned that the United States had proposed a 28-Point Peace Process, a comprehensive framework aimed at ending the war. According to a Kyiv International Institute of Sociology (KIIS) survey, 76 percent of Ukrainians categorically reject the plan. Whether this initiative will bring relief or lasting peace remains uncertain. But like millions of others, I hope peace arrives soon, a peace that respects Ukraine’s sovereignty and secures long-term stability for its people.

The author is Research Director at the Nepal Institute for International Cooperation and Engagement, one of Nepal’s leading think tanks working on foreign policy and security