In the evening of 1 June 2001, the fragrance of roses hung thick in the gardens of Narayanhiti Palace. Inside of the palace, chandeliers cast a warm glow over the assembled royals, their laughter punctuated by the clinking of silverware. Then, a horror unfolded. Gunshots echoed through the billiard room and in a matter of time, Nepal’s monarchy lay in ruins. Its crown splattered with blood.
It was a turning point. Gyanendra, the last monarch of the Shah dynasty, ascended the throne that had already lost its magic. By the early 2000s, the Maoist insurgency had seized control of most of Nepal’s rural areas. Additionally, pro-democracy protests were gaining momentum. The 2006 People’s Movement—Jana Andolan II, which peaked on 4 April 2006, marking its 19th anniversary this week—saw hundreds of thousands, forcing the reinstatement of parliament. In 2008, under overwhelming public and political pressure, Nepal’s Constituent Assembly abolished the monarchy with 560 out of 601 lawmakers voting in favor. The change was not only for removing the king but also for ensuring stability, economic growth and democratic accountability.
A republic on crumbling ground
In March thus, Nepal witnessed perhaps the largest pro-monarchy demonstration after 2008—with protests erupting around Kathmandu Airport and Tinkune. Thousands marched on the streets of Kathmandu, holding portraits of Prithvi Narayan Shah and demanding the restoration of the monarchy. In the pro-monarch demonstration, two people had lost their lives, and many suffered injuries. But this was not just a call for the return of the king but a reflection of a deeper crisis.
One clear reason behind the public frustration was political instability. Since 2008, Nepal has seen 14 different prime ministers, with the current Prime Minister KP Oli alone holding the office three times and Nepali Congress president Sher Bahadur Deuba five times, and Maoist leader Pushpa Kamal Dahal three times.
This makes an average prime ministerial tenure 14.6 months per prime minister.
An increasing number of Nepalis have begun to question the political legitimacy of the parties and their top leaders, if not the polity. Elections are conducted, manifestos are prepared, and promises are made. However, corruption, inefficiency, and economic stagnation persist. In the 2024 Corruption Perceptions Index, Nepal ranked 110th out of 180 countries, indicating a significant corruption challenge within its public sector. The economy runs on remittances, contributing over 23 percent of GDP and domestic employment opportunities at times remain dismal. This dysfunction fuels a dangerous nostalgia. But the question that Nepalis must ask themselves is not whether monarchy was better but why the republic has failed.
The Hindu kingdom question
The demand for the monarchy’s return is also entangled with Nepal’s unresolved identity crisis. The 2015 Constitution declared Nepal as a secular country, a decision that was hailed abroad but was contested at home. For centuries, the kings of Nepal were not just political rulers but also the upholders of Hindu nationalism. Prithvi Narayan Shah called Nepal ‘Asal Hindustan,’ the last stronghold of Hindu civilization. His successors tied the monarchy to religion. When Nepal became secular, the monarchy was abolished, but the debate over national identity continued.
Meanwhile, the deposed king, Gyanendra Shah, has maintained a careful presence, attending religious and cultural events while avoiding presence in the mass rallies—including both at the airport and Teenkune. In a political climate where symbolism matters, this strategy has kept him relevant in the eyes of the people who are questioning the relevance of the parties. But this alone does not provide monarchy the political legitimacy, given its feudal history in Nepal, as a symbolic unitary state. In the recent pro-monarchist rallies, one of the most heard slogans have been, “One language, one attire. Our king, our country!”
The 30 years of the Panchayat rule was far from a golden age. The monarchy ruled without accountability, suppressing the opposition, censoring the press, outlawing political parties, with a singular emphasis on national uniformity. The economy declined, power remained concentrated in a select elite, and inequality deepened. When the king attempted to seize absolute control in 2005, many saw him as the authoritarian ruler.
This is the paradox of Nepal’s right-wing resurgence. The current protests are not a wholehearted endorsement of royal rule. They are more an indictment of a dysfunctional democracy—the federal democratic republic the 2015 constitution enshrined.
Is Nepal on the verge of restoring its monarchy? No. And it shouldn’t be.
The monarchy fell in 2008 because it was undemocratic, outdated and incapable of addressing the aspiration of a modern population. The solution to Nepal’s current crisis is not to retreat into history but to confront the failures of the present. The recent protests send a clear warning: Nepal’s leaders cannot assume that democracy is secure simply because Nepalis once stood overwhelming in its favor.
Any polity is not just a system; it is a contract with the people. That contract is being questioned every day by corruption, political instability and a stagnant economy. The protests were not about a longing for a king; they are a demand for accountability.
