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Back in 2006, it was a mesmerizing feeling. The euphoria was unbeatable. Just before the elections of the first Constituent Assembly, I had to leave for India. I was still in service then with the Indian Army, and was crossing the border from Bhairawaha. An elderly lady, most probably in her sixties, started interacting with me in the rickshaw we shared.

'Why are you leaving at this time? Why can't you wait for a few more days and go after the elections? This, after all, is not a small event.' She was clearly disappointed by my disregard of the most important political event in Nepal’s history, and she showed it.

The words, the passion, the emotion, the authority, the hope, and the power that she conveyed is etched in my memory as representation of the mindset that we, Nepali people, had at that stage. We were elated by the end of conflict—we were so happy that the war had ended that we almost believed in the utterly ridiculous promises that our politicians made.

Somehow, and rather sneakily, the monarchy was booted out. Personally, I considered this a progress, but the immorality of the process also bred grudges among its supporters.

This was followed by the Madhesh Andolan and the long running conflicts in the CA. In the process, while the CA was also doubling as the parliament, people began to realize that politics in Nepal is still a loathsome chaotic feudal power struggle that thrives in brinkmanship.

Slowly, dreams were shattered, and the intelligentsia, in their naivety, normalized the ugliness of the stupidity, treachery and immorality.

After eight long years, and after one more election, when the constitution was finally promulgated, a new era of hope emerged. And the local elections held almost after two decades had brought new optimism.

We were made to believe that the Singh Durbar had come to our villages, a metaphor used often by our intelligentsia and politicians alike to suggest the decentralization that has come about through state-restructuring.

After all this rollercoaster ride of history in the 21^st century, today, we are in the midst of a crisis yet again. At the center in Kathmandu, we have a government of the party that has a huge majority in the parliament, but infighting between its two chairmen has made it look like a circus. The power struggle has become so illogical and shameful that everything and anything that can be blamed on each other is being penned and named a political proposal for party unity. Ultimately, it has led to a public display of utter nonsense packaged under the name of the communist movement.

The provincial governments haven't been able to justify their existence in past three years, and the local governments, where the people are directly in touch with the state mechanism, have become a hotbed of malpractices.

At the present, our governments, at all levels, are facing a double whammy of incompetence and immorality. Wastage of resources from ill-conceived plans and projects are rampant. At the same time, local politicians are busy exploiting the state and natural resources for personal gains.

For example, many ward chairmen, in the rural municipalities, are owners of bulldozers. And no doubt they spend most of the money from government budget in these bulldozers.

Now, at the end of 2020, in the midst of a pandemic, I find the whole situation befuddling. How did we end up here? Where did we lose track? What's the way out of this vicious circle?

I have spent most of my youth writing optimistically about Nepal's politics. I have vouched for alternative politics in the hope that new and younger leaders would bring new changes in the ecosystem that will in turn nudge institutions involved in nation building.

I have also directly gotten involved with the local government at my hometown, as an advisor, with enthusiasm, in the hope that if we lay the foundation now, we will build a better future for generations to come.

But things obviously did not work as we had envisaged or were made to believe. And from personal experience, I can say that the politicians are not the only ones to be blamed.

Nepali society has a high level of tolerance for corruption, and no regard for efficiency and competence. This attitude dominates the way our institutions function, including our government and private agencies. Is there a way out? How do we challenge this?

The only way out of this dark tunnel is for Nepal's educated youths to take the onus. Things won’t change unless we demand respect for competence from ourselves, from the institutions we are involved in, and our society. Unless we stake claim in political and social leadership, unless we dirty our hands and step out of our comfort zone, we do not have the moral authority to expect as much from politicians. For unless we do away with this immorality and incompetence, we are doomed.

The indicators from the mass rallies in support of monarchy are not good. We definitely don't want to jump into the fire from the frying pan.

We’re wasting a lot of money on the Western medical system, money that Nepal cannot afford.

Let’s think about the enormous costs that is going into Covid-testing. While testing is promoted as the most sensible way to go about defeating this pandemic, there are hidden costs. A pharmacist in my neighborhood told me large numbers of people had tested positive, but nobody had symptoms, including an elderly man on dialysis. “Everything is normal,” she said with skepticism. She seemed to hint the coronavirus panic was overblown. She added coronavirus was affecting mental health: a young teenager who had gone to test herself received a positive result, then a negative one at another hospital, then a positive one again at a hospital which refused to release her report, citing regulations, leading her to depression and mental health issues.

I can see people on Twitter anxiously writing about how often they should test. Should they test each week? The problem with the testing paradigm is that you can test negative and walk out, and on the way out of the testing center catch the virus. I’m uncertain how long it takes to incubate, but you could be infectious 24 hours after a negative result.

In such a scenario, does it make sense to emphasize testing? As an Ayurveda advocate, I feel we could better utilize those funds on boosting people’s immunity via time tested supplements like chyawanprash. Instead of massive free Covid tests, why doesn’t the Nepal government spend the same funds to hand out free bottles of vaidyakhana chyawanprash to frontline workers, regardless of age, class or ethnic background? I would love to see how that may turn the tide of the pandemic.

I can also see people on social media asking for medical help, and receiving pat answers citing commonly prescribed antibiotics. This is a viral pandemic, not a bacterial one. This seems to be lost on the people who reach for antibiotics like they reach for Hajmola candy.

Besides warning people about the harm of self prescribed antibiotics, the government needs to prepare and distribute a list of time-tested herbal remedies which are low cost and easy to procure locally. Some of these could be as easy as a one rupee tamarind candy, a brand of which I take each time I feel like I’m falling sick. Tamarind (imli) has high Vitamin C content and its seeds are known to prevent pneumonia.

In most people’s minds, however, a one rupee candy won’t do: healing is not healing until you spend 20 lakhs! As someone trained in anthropology, I suspect complex family power dynamics of whose life is more valuable may also be playing into this “fight to get hospitalized” scenario.

I am cognizant of the 1,500-plus deaths, plus the grief and distress people are feeling from coronavirus in Nepal. The emotive nature of the moment can bring feelings of outrage. Especially for the scientifically inclined who see hospitals, big pharma and ventilators as the one and only way to heal people, the dismissal of modern medicine can appear regressive and cruel. But even doctors have been quoted in articles as saying the majority of coronavirus patients will recover without any medical intervention.

Americans are reporting a dramatic range of post-hospitalization symptoms, now known as “long Covid.” We have no idea if those symptoms, including dementia and memory loss, are caused by drugs. People also have kidney and liver damage. There has been no comparative research of those who chose Ayurveda over those who went to the hospitals. If such a study were done, we could see if those who stayed out of hospitals have those symptoms. That most reliable newsgathering agency of the world, the BBC, has reported as fact that dementia and memory loss are caused by coronavirus. There is, however, no research to prove this is the case.

I recently heard of a family friend who is seriously ill with the coronavirus. What I know about him, besides the fact that he is a simple—humble man who’s lived an austere and disciplined life—is that he has several family members who are engaged in the medical profession. I have no doubt he received the best western medical care, including oxygen. To my mind, this has become a death knell. Someone who may have been cured by traditional remedies may never recover from this virus due to the debilitating effects of modern medication.

Health discourse is structured to silence those who seek to question the hegemonic narrative of Western scientific superiority. There is no room for those who question the efficacy of this system. Do we need billions of dosages of expensive vaccines frozen at minus 80 degrees and which need freezers that don’t exist in most parts of the world? Who are the scientists creating these nonsensical, expensive products after vacuuming up billions of dollars that should have gone to sensible, low cost healing?

Doctors have saved my life after the earthquake. I am deeply grateful to them for patching me back together. But that doesn’t stop me from speaking the truth about this pandemic: we must save our hospital beds for accidents, surgeries and childbirths, not overburden the hospital system, and treat coronavirus patients at home with the herbal, Ayurvedic and Amchi medicines we have been given by our ancient cultures and traditions.

These are the author’s personal views

Tackling with the Covid-19 pandemic calls for a robust public policy response. While there is no denying that the pandemic has challenged the capacities of even the best public health systems, that can’t be a pretext for any country to shy away from the responsibility of general welfare in these tough times. A critical inquiry into the public policy response of Nepal indicates that the measures adopted so far have been rather inadequate and inappropriate even though authorities continue to dismiss this fact. 

Ever since the first outbreak in Nepal, the pattern of policy response has shown some familiar characteristics. With an inability to take timely decisions on crucial matters, be it lockdown or virus containment, the health ministry bureaucracy has become badly exposed. Needless to say, the statements of some officials have only added to public confusion and anxiety. Health experts are also miffed about the government’s failure to get their buy-in. A single-handed approach to crisis management without taking other stakeholders into confidence has proved lethal, which is also evidenced by soaring Covid cases. 

Conflict ensued when the government made it mandatory for all hospitals to allocate dedicated Covid beds without consulting them. The government might have done it with the best intent but it still failed to take the concerned parties into confidence. Moreover, the policy leaders have appeared reluctant to heed even non-partisan voices demanding an improved policy response. We definitely face a resource constraint yet we can also effectively mobilize available resources. Standards of accountability and transparency have fallen sharply during the pandemic. Be it the Omni group scandal or financial irregularities in the Covid-related treatment, mistrust is growing over the government handling of the crisis.   

The very notion of a socialism-oriented Nepali state spelled out in the constitution has witnessed severe setbacks, particularly in the aftermath of some baffling decisions over the crisis. The decision to halt free treatment of Covid patients, which has now been reversed following a Supreme Court ruling, was a serious departure from the commitment to socialism. Amid the rising number of infected patients who are dying for the want of money, such an irrational decision met with vehement criticism. That said, the government later clarified that it would bear the cost of the socio-economically deprived population. Not to forget, Right to Health, one of the 31 fundamental rights enshrined in the constitution, ensures that every citizen shall have equal access to health service. However, the Covid-19 policy response continues to disproportionately affect poor people’s access to health services. Whether we refer to the recovery rate of this category of population or Covid fatalities, a bleak picture emerge.

Lately, the decision of the Kathmandu metropolitan city to restrict the campaign to feed hungry people in Tundikhel sparked great outcry. The situation became so tense that the mayor had to organize a press conference to clarify and defend the move. But the decision to shift the feeding spot isn’t convincing given the tainted image of the municipal leader who was also a victim of the virus. 

The government is left with a Hobson’s choice for devising an effective policy response. Revisiting recent policy decisions and intensifying multi-stakeholder consultation can never come too late. Coordination with private health institutions including the civil society will require a proactive policy leadership dedicated to general welfare. There is still an opportunity for the government to show that a smart policy response with honest intent can succeed. 

The author is an independent writer and researcher

I’m sitting in the most authentic French restaurant in town. I heard it is up for sale and realizing I hadn’t been here for around a year decided to pop in after a meeting nearby. I peruse the menu. It is reminiscent of the winter 2015/16 “no gas” menus in that it is a shadow of its former self. I had wanted the wonderful, light and tasty crepes but they are not on the menu. I opt for another French classic. 

Situated in Babar Mahal Revisited Chez Caroline has been running under the watchful eye of its owner since 1997. But now it seems it’s time to go. Fortunately its sale includes the staff and menus so we must hope this restaurant, situated in the quaint setting of a recreated Rana palace, will continue to serve classic French food. I also hoped to enjoy the ambiance of the setting today but of the only two other guests, one is constantly on his phone giving advice to one caller after another which runs on a loop of “No beds available. Self-isolate.  Take vitamins.” This is not the experience I was looking for.

I wander round the complex. If you don’t know, it is a recreation of the original Baber Mahal, the remaining parts situated just up the street a little, built in 1910 by Maharaja Chandra Shumsher Jung Bahdur Rana. It is the usual white plastered building in the Neoclassical or Baroque European architecture style. Babar Mahal Revisited was build decades later in the 1990s by the grandson of Chandra Shumsher as a tribute to these old Rana palaces. As far as I am aware, the only original parts of the palace within this complex are the then cowsheds and guards houses.

Back in the present—I already know of one shop up for sale as well as a lovely boutique hotel.  The shops are open today but aside from the ubiquitous photo shoot, with model, camera-man and hangers on, it seems I’m the only visitor. One shop-keeper feels over the past couple of weeks business has picked up. Knowing the unique and expensive objet d’art sold in most of the shops, I feel this might be remaining expats who are planning trips home and are buying Christmas gifts. Shopping sprees which won’t sustain long.

I’ve heard many shops in Thamel are also closed and/or up for sale. We all had high hopes at the beginning of the Nepal lockdown that the autumn tourist season would go ahead, saving the jobs of thousands in the tourism industry. Reality has now hit. With both rising Covid-19 cases in Nepal and no relief (or plans) in sight and the second wave hitting Europe, our hopes for this season are dashed. And finally we are beginning to see the big picture… tourism might not revive for between two to five years. Depending on who you read. And even if trekkers do arrive in Nepal, many savvy local communities are closing up their lodges and teahouses quoting the risk is not worth the monetary gain in this rapidly shrinking trekking season.

But today, although disappointed I can’t get crepes, and that the bread basket only contains baguette, not the usual variety of breads, and somewhat annoyed the gentleman at the end of the courtyard is a constant reminder of the present reality, I am grateful that I can still enjoy a rare treat and that I am not forced to sit at Khula Manch to receive food. Or worse, unable to receive free food since it is now deemed, after seven months, ‘undignified and unhygienic’. As I sit in this French restaurant a famous phrase attributed to Marie-Antoinette comes to mind: “Let them eat cake.” And we all know what happened to her.