The promise of inclusion has become a cruel irony for many in Nepal. While opportunities are carved out for certain groups, Bahun-Chhetris, despite their qualifications, are left with empty hands. Merit alone is worthless here. What matters is who you know and which power center you serve.

We invested our youth in education, sacrificing leisure, comfort, and opportunity – only to discover our degrees offer little value. What matters more than talent or qualifications is your proximity to power, your influence, or your ability to navigate the system. In that race, we are far behind. We focused on earning university degrees and working hard, believing that merit would be enough for success. But we never imagined that we would also need someone’s favor or backing. If we had known, perhaps we would have tried to curry favor with influential people along the way. We believed that with knowledge and competence, we could contribute meaningfully. But those things alone count for nothing. Only now do we understand why hundreds of thousands of young Nepalis leave for foreign countries each year. A few go by choice, but most leave because they feel they have no future here.

In today’s Nepal, there is no space for those who think ideally. Without using every possible means—money, influence, manipulation and favoritism—or without serving someone in power, it is hard to achieve anything. 

Today, one of my students said something that made me think deeply. “What kind of society are we living in?” “Is it one where merit matters, or one ruled by favoritism and nepotism?” “How many people actually get opportunities based purely on their abilities?” Perhaps my student was speaking out of frustration—or perhaps his words reflect a deeper truth shared by many young people.

I spent much of my life campaigning for gender equality and inclusion. I raised bold slogans, cited constitutional rights, international principles, and both national and global precedents. But somewhere along the way, I failed to see the hidden reality—I was unknowingly using those tools in ways that worked against my own community. While we pushed for inclusion for one group, we failed to notice how the other group’s participation was gradually being left behind.

I am not against equality or inclusion. Nor am I against the principles they represent. What I seek is the genuine implementation of these ideals in practice. But while voices are raised in support of inclusion for all, ours has somehow been lost in the process. 

Only now do I fully realize how simply because we belong to the so-called upper caste, we have become minorities in our own way—pushed so far behind that it is hard to even imagine rising again. I vividly remember how when I tried to move forward based on my academic credentials and years of experience, decision-makers told me I do not fall under any inclusive category. At the time, I didn’t question them. I didn’t realize that despite having qualifications and capability, I was denied simply because I wasn’t part of a preferred group or ideology. Only after going through repeated setbacks have I come to see the harsh truth.

I have no complaints against any individual or community. My issue is with those who, while publicly advocating for women's rights and shouting slogans of equality, privately cling to narrow and self-serving views. When such individuals attain power, they often hesitate to extend those rights to other deserving women. Who will ever hold them accountable for this double standard? Perhaps no one ever will.

There is a large segment of society that genuinely wants inclusion based on merit and commitment—not inequality disguised as equality. In the name of inclusion, the state has established countless commissions and structures, many of which are hard to sustain and harder still to justify. Those who frequently cry out that their class has always been oppressed, how many among them have truly benefited?  Except for a few who have received opportunities and benefits time and again, many do not even know about their real rights. 

Are we now to gain our rights only through labels and classifications? Must we continue to live as minorities in our own country—compelled to go abroad just to gain respect and a sense of identity? Is this the equality we envisioned? True equality does not mean uplifting one group at the cost of another. We are human beings too. We wish to live with equal dignity—not just in theory, but in reality.
Isn’t it time to change our mindset? Isn't it time to stop hiding behind caste, religion, tradition or ideology? Shouldn't we move forward to build a society where everyone—regardless of background—can live with dignity, freedom, and mutual respect, and build a civilized society? These are the questions weighing on my mind more and more these days.