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But in the
back of my head, I know that the real issue isn’t the CCP or its
intellectuals. It is the intellectuals in Nepal that trouble
me—those in CPN-Maoist, those in other self-proclaimed “democratic”
parties that nevertheless indulge in an essentially feudal practice
of politics, those who claim that the people’s ignorance allows for
an aristocratic order under the king. Worse are individuals who
claim democracy isn’t suitable for a country like Nepal.
In recent
hours, megalomaniacs have become my biggest fear—in any corner of
the world, at any time in history. They have to be given due credit
though—a megalomaniac from Gorkha first decided to create a unified
kingdom, without which the very notion of this site would have been
absurd. But that is the trouble with individuals—they die. Half a
century after his death, another megalomaniac filled the Kot with
decapitated aristocrats and plunged Nepal into a long slumber. Yet
another megalomaniac thought he knew exactly what the remedy for the
nation was, and declared multi-party democracy illegal, and allowed
the descendants of the previous two megalomaniacs to plunder through
the country—retarding the rise of the middle class, and
concentrating wealth and influence among a handful of clans. After a
second wave of democracy swept Nepal, the stifled middle class
rushed to Kathmandu, much to the chagrin of the aristocrats. Many
megalomaniacs appeared among the middle class—but they were each
very short-living. The worst they did was to indulge in short term
corruption—pale when compared to the corruption established by the
cronies of the first two megalomaniacs. These petty-megalomaniacs
shaped the politics of Nepal through their many horse-trading, their
ease with bribery and nepotistic adventures. Now, they are at the
forefront in exporting Nepal to richer countries in the west, mostly
through their children for higher education; while the poor man goes
to the Arabian peninsula, South-East Asia, Korea, and in
undocumented figures, to India—for hard manual labor in the most
harrowing conditions.
Disgusted
by the middle class’s desire towards upwards mobility, the
disgruntled Proletariat Megalomaniacs appeared in the western
jungles—claiming at once a solution to the world’s problems, showing
the ludicrous audacity to tag their names with Marx, Lenin and
Mao—the latter two abominable megalomaniacs in their turn. The
corruption wrought by the Maoists is the worst—they have made the
population complacent towards violence and loss of life. There used
to be a time when a bus falling into Trishuli was the most horrible
news, and people were appalled by the LTTE and PLO’s feats. Now,
anonymous deaths by the dozen have become the norm, and it doesn’t
make anyone’s morning chiya (tea) bitter.
There is
really no alternative for democracy, because in a democratic forum
King Gyanendra’s megalomaniacal moves are comparable to those of Bam
Dev Gautam’s, or to Pushpa Kamal Dahal’s, and yet, the nearest
thela-walla vegetable seller has just as much say. The previous
sentence appears too full of optimism to some, and too naïve to
others. Their argument is almost always that democracy has failed as
a practice in Nepal, because the populace is incapable of it. My
answer to them is this—those who decry democracy are cowards. They
lack the courage to admit that the illiterate farmer from Tehrathum
can be just as correct as they when faced with the challenge of
choosing the right political future of the country. They lack the
courage to admit that in a democracy they might have to listen to
that illiterate farmer, and carry out his wish even though they
might fundamentally disagree with the decision of the majority.
This
cowardice is the biggest threat to peace and prosperity of Nepal. It
is this cowardice that forces the new breed of megalomaniacs, mostly
removed middle-class men, to create closed cloister of a supposed
ideology that is in turn a remedy for all socio-political ills of
Nepal. A system engineer in a cubicle in New York therefore claims
that autocratic monarchy is the only solution for Nepal, while a
frustrated undergraduate student in rural Washington claims that
there is a need for yet another revolution, to uproot the very
generation that indulges in the political tussles of toady—so that
there is no remains of the present order in the politics of
tomorrow—the aristocrats are no longer influential in the army and
police, the King is a docile figurehead looking good only on paper
money and stamp collections, the entire selection of politicians in
all political parties, including the Maoists, retired to teaching or
some suitable profession. All such suggestions can come only because
the individuals are incapable of admitting that the other person
could be just as right in his choices and opinions.
The Maoist
megalomaniacs, Dahal and Bhattarai, lack the courage to admit that
they have been horribly wrong in representing the wishes of the
people. In any case—how much trust can you place upon an individual
who had to take up a purportedly “fearsome” name like Prachanda to
be taken seriously by the peasants? “Lotus-flower” simply doesn’t
have the same ferocity to it, eh? Perhaps a new direction is for the
media to give cute-sounding pet name to these ferocious Maoists
leaders, who, out of some deep-seated insecurity have chosen to give
themselves the most ridiculous names.
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