2. Maobaad This is scary. No, I am not really scared of the Nepali practitioners of Maobaad because I am so far from the battleground, and because I have - unwillingly but inexorably - grown used to it. Ok, I was lying but I am scared of Maobaad because of its scope. I am sure I cannot, with my meager faculties of reason, memory and experience, properly address the issue. But I will step up the block and offer my neck to be guillotined should I ruffle anyone's feathers badly enough. It is difficult to address this because I am a privileged brat. My views - while trying the very best to be all-inclusive, illumined and enlightened - will inevitably come out as elitist. What do I know of the people who have suffered though generation upon generation under the colossal weight of the multiple social strata of Nepali society? What can I say of the people, who needed democracy the most and yet got it the least because of the systematic oppression of our caste, class and economic heirarchy? How can I talk about the people who have been disenfranchised for centuries. It is as if this (sic) people remained impervious to the changes that have taken place among the rest of the people throughout. Nor can I accurately characterize the endemic reasons that have led to such inequity. But I can, and will, say the reason for the social injustice entrenched in our society was not a creation of the democracy we brought about in 1990. This social injustice is the root cause of the rise of Maobaad, regardless of the lens you use to look at it, your persuation - political, sociological, economic - or your purpose - self-study, a white paper of an NGO, presentation of an argument in your class or just idle chiyaapasal banter. Of course, the stellar architects (pun intended) behind the movement helped a great deal. But I also hold that this was long, long, long overdue. And I can find at least one reason to be thankful to it - it opened my eyes to the plight of a whole section (a significant section) of the Nepali populace that we had somehow forgetten in the race to forge ahead, build ourselves, bring in development. In hindsight it was, at least to me, a slap in the face for my shallow assessment of the needs of Nepal. A very good slap. Well, now they are God's forgotten children no more. But I still believe democracy, and democracy alone can give us any hope of dealing with the issue, of "solving the Maobaadi problem". There is no doubt in my mind that the victory of the guerillas OR their defeat OR a winless-defeatless limbo can, in and of itself, sufficiently and satisfactorily address the root cause behind the emergence of Nepali Maobaad. Only when we, the people, wake up to it will there be any hope of getting better. 3. Monarchy Inevitably, and as expectedly as it could be, Gyanendra Shah in his proclaimation pushed it down our throats that it was his ancestor Prithvi Narayan who created Nepal some 200 odd years ago. Implication: Gyanendra, being Prithvi's eventual successor, owns Nepal and has the (moral) right to dispense of it as he pleases. Nevermind the fact that King Prithvi had the nose and ears of my ancestor cut off to regain his sense of honor lost in a defeat. Nevermind the fact that we have come along a quarter millenium after that episode in Nepal's history. Nevermind the fact that our world is fundamentally and substantially different, and it should be, from that time. The Monarchy in Nepal enjoys an unusual (and in my view totally unearned) level of trust and respect. Whether it be in the form of religious devotion or just blind faith in the crown. And the evolution of a few of our institutions, particularly the army, has bestowed vulgur power to the monarch. But there is another side to the story. We fear the monarchy as much as we love it. We despise the monarchy as much as we respect it. We suspect it as much as we trust it. Perhaps, (in the glorious tradition of Bhupi Sherchan) we love it because we fear it. We respect it because we despise it. We trust it because we suspect it. We are comfortable with it because it makes us uneasy. We believe in it because we don't believe in ourselves. Why else would we raise a battle cry against corrupt politicians when we just as easily ignore the corruption spawned and fostered by the crown? Why else would we talk of serving justice to the people by punishing the betrayal by lesser men and women and at the same breath exonerate the injustice represented by the monarchy? Why else would we hail Gyanendra's oppressive step as a fresh start, a break in a deadlock? Why else would we argue about whether or not to give the monarchy a chance when it represents the source of all our ills?