Former King Gyanendra Shah returned to Kathmandu from western Nepal recently amid rousing cheers and chants from thousands of supporters. This mass gathering at the airport and the subsequent rally in which thousands of people participated wasn’t just nostalgia for the bygone monarchy; it was a reflection of public frustration. A deep, simmering frustration of the unemployed youth who see no future in their own country, of parents left alone as their children work under the scorching heat in foreign lands, of spouses living apart, yearning for the family life they once dreamed of. It was a frustration of citizens who wake up every day to yet another news of corruption, scandals, and abuse of power, frustration of hardworking individuals whose opportunities are overtaken by the privileged few politicians, their families, and their inner circles.
For some, this support for monarchy comes from an experience; they lived under it and now compare it to what democracy has offered. For others, it was fueled by the sense of uncertainty; they never experienced monarchy but now wonder what if there was a monarchy in place? What if governance was about service rather than power? What if corruption was actually punished? What if the nation prioritized merit over political connections? What if development wasn’t just an election-time slogan? What if Nepalis didn’t have to celebrate something as basic as a newly paved road in the 21st century?
The frustration isn’t new. It has been brewing for years. The transition to democracy was supposed to bring change, but for many, it has brought only disappointment. Political instability has been a defining feature of Nepal’s governance for decades, with governments collapsing and forming at an alarming rate. Leaders rise to power promising reforms, only to repeat the same cycle of inefficiency and self-interest. Citizens are left watching as political infighting takes priority over national progress.
Nepal’s economy, once hoped to flourish under democratic rule, has struggled to provide for its people. The job market is stagnant, pushing millions of young Nepalis to seek employment abroad. The remittance economy sustains the country, but at a great emotional and social cost. Families are torn apart, children grow up without parents, and entire generations are raised with the mindset that their future lies outside Nepal, not within it.
Education is another area of disillusionment. Young people work hard to earn degrees, only to find that merit does not guarantee opportunities. Instead, it is nepotism, political connections, and bribery that open doors. Many educated individuals either leave for better prospects or settle for underemployment, their talents wasted in a system that does not value them.
The corruption that plagues Nepal is perhaps the most infuriating aspect of all. Scandals involving billions of rupees make headlines regularly, yet those responsible rarely face any real consequences. Politicians and bureaucrats enrich themselves while basic services crumble. Hospitals lack equipment, schools lack resources, and infrastructure projects remain unfinished for years, draining public funds while achieving little progress.
Infrastructure development moves at a snail’s pace. Roads, bridges, and essential facilities are often promised but rarely completed on time or with quality workmanship. When projects do finish, they are celebrated as major achievements—even though they are the bare minimum a functioning government should provide. Meanwhile, in other parts of the world, cities are being built from scratch in mere months, and technological advancements are reshaping economies.
The justice system, too, fails to inspire confidence. Laws exist on paper but are not enforced equally. The wealthy and powerful navigate the system with ease, while ordinary citizens struggle for even the most basic legal protection. Cases drag on for years without resolution, leaving victims with little hope for justice.
It is in this climate of frustration that the question of monarchy resurfaces—not necessarily as a solution, but as an alternative to the current mess. The sight of Former King Gyanendra being welcomed back in Kathmandu was not just about nostalgia; it was a loud and clear message that people are desperate for something different. They are not necessarily advocating for a return to absolute monarchy, but they are asking whether the current system has truly served them well.
As someone who was a child when Nepal was still a monarchy, I cannot claim firsthand knowledge of whether it was better or worse. But I see the frustration around me, and I, too, find myself asking: What if? Not because I believe monarchy is the perfect solution, but because I know that democracy, as it stands, is failing its people. It has become a tool for a handful of elites to consolidate wealth and power while millions struggle to get by.
This isn’t about choosing between democracy and monarchy, it is about demanding a system that works. A system that prioritizes governance, accountability, and opportunity. A system where politicians are held accountable, where corruption is punished, and where leadership is driven by service rather than self-interest.
So where do we go from here? The What ifs are questions that demand answers, not silence. Whether it is democracy or monarchy, the real concern should be about governance, accountability, and the future of Nepal. Because, at the end of the day, Nepalese are not demanding luxury; they are merely asking for dignity, fairness, and a chance to build a better future in their own homeland.
