From Where To Eternity?

From Sikkim, Bhutan and Fiji we’ve transitioned to Algeria and Gaza. Despite being the largest party in the newly elected assembly, the Maoists are not quite sure they would get to head the government. Subverting the popular mandate could have consequences more devastating than those that erupted in Algeria in 1991. The Islamic Salvation Front wasn’t known for its capacity for mayhem before the election.
As for Gaza, at least Hamas has a sympathetic Egypt. For the Maoists, the most Jimmy Carter could ever do is help withdraw the US terror tag. That won’t keep the supply lines open, especially when you’re under the constant vigilance of both neighbors. No wonder the Nepali Congress, still dazed by its electoral drubbing, is scheming to keep the premiership.
The Maoists, mortified by the mandate for change, have been exhibiting strange symptoms. No sooner had party chairman Prachanda decided to take the premiership from Dr. Baburam Bhattarai than he began speaking of a “graceful exit” for King Gyanendra. Struggling to keep his composure, Dr. Bhattarai tried to do one better by seeming to acquiesce in a cultural monarchy. That was too much for Ram Bahadur Thapa ‘Badal’, who tugged the debate back to the non-residual theory of post-monarchism.
With better half Hisila Yami preoccupied with wooing India, Dr. Bhattarai did the next best thing to register his displeasure. He simply moved out of Prachanda’s residence. (Fears of the “preventive detention” phase preceding the 12-point-agreement in November 2005 must have played some part.)
If Dr. Bhattarai is indeed in some form of disfavor, proletarians vexed by his insistence on wearing the Dr. prefix must be among those most delighted. Yet loyalists can’t afford to squander time on the man either, especially when the party is under multi-pronged assault.
By rejecting the resignation of cousin Sushil as acting party chief, Prime Minister Girija Prasad Koirala has given us a foretaste of his appetite for incumbency. This time, he can count on a unified party. (Unified Marxist-Leninist [UML] general secretary Madhav Kumar Nepal made his own graceful exit because his position was more untenable.)
With our perpetual premier-in-waiting out of the way, the Nepali Congress and the UML want to do away with the two-thirds majority provision in the interim charter vis-à-vis the new government. A vote-of-no-confidence by a simple majority may or may not be able to tame a Maoist government. But such a provision would surely do some good to legacy-driven Koirala’s spirits, considering his own travails with Tanakpur-era supermajorityism.
Nepali Congress vice president Gopal Man Shrestha’s stipulation must have come as more startling to the Maoists. If Nepalis couldn’t tolerate the supreme commander of the Royal Nepal Army as head of government, how would they countenance the People’s Liberation Army’s counterpart? Consigning all those weapons to the beyond-use stage may not be enough. The one-man-one uniform rule must prevail to consummate the novelty of a new Nepal. More so with the Supreme Court just having endorsed the proclamation made by the now-defunct reinstated House of Representatives that stripped King Gyanendra of most of his royal powers, prerogatives and privileges.
If not Algeria or Gaza, then where do we go from here? Things might drift along until the Beijing Olympics. Amendments to the interim constitution as well as to the assorted documents known collectively as the peace accords could remove the roadblocks.
And who knows what might come of that meeting between Prachanda and King Gyanendra? A decision to organize a referendum on the monarchy? How much more egalitarian can the outer edges of the left and right get than that?

People’s Peacemaker, ‘Garden Variety’

For years, Comrade Ram Bahadur Thapa ‘Badal’ had a favorite anecdote. As a student in the former Soviet Union, ‘Badal’ met peers from other developing countries of Asia, Africa and Latin America. He would listen fervently to fellow students describe the true beauty of their home countries.
If only these thriving tribes of autocrats, who invariably doubled as kleptocrats, could be swept away, the brilliance beneath the dirt everywhere could bedazzle everyone. ‘Badal’ rediscovered Nepal as a garden festering under a pile of cow dung. Ever since, he has been struggling to remove the manure and unveil the magnificence.
Hailed as the military strategist of the Maoists’ “people’s war”, ‘Badal’ ceded ground to junior commanders quite early. The Maoist strategy never got past the equilibrium phase on the battlefield, but ‘Badal’ remained the center of attention.
When he emerged as a member of the rebel negotiating team during the 2003 peace process, ‘Badal’ presented himself as a self-effacing advocate of the people. The garden parable wasn’t the only one he borrowed from King Prithvi Narayan Shah to rewrite. In a television interview, ‘Badal’ had described Nepal as a dynamite between two boulders.
Lacking the garrulity of Prachanda and Dr. Baburam Bhattarai, ‘Badal’ nevertheless projected confidence over his convictions. Unable to rein in restive foot soldiers, he was credited with the Maoist pullout from the peace process. (The collapse of the first peace process in November 2001, too, was attributed by many to ‘Badal’.)
After the nation plunged into a bloodier conflict, ‘Badal’ wasn’t quite conspicuous as a political strategist. Still, his presence loomed over deliberations. At one point, he was said to have been behind an oust-Prachanda campaign over the Fierce One’s creeping mellowness.
During the Prachanda-Baburam split, ‘Badal’ maintained the equilibrium. When the duo patched up, joined an anti-palace alliance with the mainstream parties, and acquiesced in the reinstatement of the legislature, the silence of ‘Badal’ became menacing to many. Was he going to join Rabindra Shrestha and Mani Thapa in rebellion against this wholesale sellout of the cause? Or was ‘Badal’ negotiating a better place in the hallowed hierarchy. Soon he denounced the antics of Messrs Shrestha and Thapa, standing firmly behind the top honchos.
The constituent assembly elections, in the view of ‘Badal’, merely affirmed the agenda of the “people’s war.” This was no radical departure from the party line. In an interview with the Maoist daily, Janadisha, ‘Badal’ sought to project himself as a pragmatist. In the process, he couldn’t eschew the platitudes associated with political triumph.
Nor could he avoid contradicting himself. Hailing the poll results as a defeat for “status quoists”, ‘Badal’ sounded quite miffed by the Unified Marxist-Leninists’ decision to quit the government. Magnanimous in victory, he wants the Seven Party Alliance to continue in power to lead an economic revolution.
Actually, ‘Badal’ wants much more than that. He is in favor of an alliance of nationalists, capitalists and every other constituency you’d normally consider anathema to communists. But, then, you wouldn’t expect the Maoists to clean all that manure alone, would you?

Home (A Few Miles) Away From Home

So “Asia’s most humiliated man” has been asked to vacate Narayanhity Palace gracefully – or else. Now, we aren’t really sure whether King Gyanendra is going to oblige top vote-getter Dr. Baburam Bhattarai. But we’ve heard enough in recent days suggesting that the monarch might be planning to settle down in ex-royals-packed Rajasthan state down south.
Sikar, being the seat of Crown Princess Himani’s family, sounds plausible as domicile in exile. But not when you start figuring out how long ago the crown princess stopped calling the city home.
The names of other Indian cities have popped up in between. The northern pilgrimage of Benares, for instance, where kings Rana Bahadur and Rajendra Bikram had spent some time in exile. Their fate after returning to Nepal would probably be enough to dissuade King Gyanendra from making that choice.
Gurgaon, on the outskirts of Delhi where president-in-waiting Prachanda once resided, is touted as another destination. But wouldn’t it be so disgustingly conspicuous to trade residences at the highest national level so soon?
No one is suggesting Beijing, where Norodom Sihanouk – that other monarch another generation of Maoists flirted with – called home away from home. (Sihanouk’s third abode, Pyongyang, could have been considered a destination, considering North Korea’s long-established embassy in Nepal. But, then, the Chinese seem to have started turning off the oil pipelines periodically.)
Dubai, London, New York City and all the other places King Gyanendra is said to have business interests could be lucrative destinations. But India is somehow the national fixation. From Dev Shamsher to Mohan Shamsher, fall from grace has invariably entailed a southward hurtle. We seemed to be caught in that rut.
Still, it’s hard to see King Gyanendra settling abroad, if he were to vacate Narayanhity at all. (An audacious qualification, perhaps, considering the redness all around us, but certainly not an improbable one.) New Nepal simply has too many promises for an ex-monarch. And one who intends to mix business with politics for pleasure and much more.
In comments to relatives and confidantes, the monarch has insisted he would stay in the country come what may. Moreover, exile in India makes little sense. An ex-monarch leaves his country only if he is chased out or to avoid persecution. King Gyanendra stood firm when the multitudes on the streets two years ago forced then-US ambassador James F. Moriarty to fear a messy abdication. His Excellency ended up shifting much of the embassy to New Delhi, but couldn’t see the king anywhere near a whirring helicopter.
As for persecution, the threat will always exist. And exile in India wouldn’t offer any cushion. The Indians wouldn’t miss a heartbeat to make an ex-monarch the first subject of that tightened extradition treaty. Considering their record, they could choose to use him as a prod against the Maoists. That would be another reason for an ex-king to stay in Nepal.
A monarchy abolished contains an element of finality, unless you’re a Sihanouk or a Juan Carlos. It would take a leap of faith of worldwide Hindus to pull that off here. Ordinarily, having ascended to the throne twice is a good enough record. Why not burnish it by becoming the first monarch to have been democratically discharged?
King Gyanendra’s New Year’s message forced Maila Baje to ponder a bit deeper. The satisfaction he derived from Nepalis’ emphatic reiteration of their “firm resolve not to compromise the nation’s existence, independence and integrity under any circumstance” could not have gone down well down south. Chastisement in exile is doubly demeaning, a sentiment only Dr. Shashank Koirala, among the newly elected lawmakers, could really share.
Then something else struck Maila Baje. In addition to his royal stock, King Gyanendra shares the blood of a Maithili Brahmin (Rana Bahadur’s consort Kantavati) as well as a lower caste forebear. (Historians can’t seem to agree on the antecedents of Johar Kumari, one of Dhir Shamsher’s wives. But they do know that family elders elevated her status in a formal rice-eating ceremony, thereby ensuring their son Juddha Shamsher’s place on the roll of succession). If unity in diversity still has any meaning, then it runs in King Gyanendra bloodline.
By far, the strongest case for King Gyanendra’s continued presence in the country is provided by the Maoists themselves. He would be welcome to stay as a commoner, Prachanda and Dr. Bhattarai have reiterated since their electoral triumph. Translation: “If we could benefit from all those people around the palace, we certainly wouldn’t mind befriending the man who once lived inside.”

Keep (’Em) Guessing

With the Maoists sweeping the polls thus far, it is tempting to see the rest of the way toward republicanism neatly laid out. Once the constituent assembly meets for its first session, King Gyanendra can expect his letter of eviction. End of story? Not quite.
First, the 600-plus body would have to identify the oldest member who could then swear in the members. Considering the ruckus before the election, that could less easier than thought. After the recess, the assembly would have to elect the presiding officer.
Let’s say everything goes smoothly, and the letter is instantly dispatched to the Narayanhity reception desk. There is something called ‘bato ko myad’ in bureaucratese. It’s not as if the person who received the letter would rush it up the chain to the monarch. The palace bureaucracy, like its civilian counterpart, has its own institutional lag time. Miffed by the exclusion of tax-paying royals from the voters’ list, King Gyanendra might calibrate his move.
Let’s say the monarch accepts the notice and decides to drive off to Nirmal Niwas forthwith. It’s not as if his family alone is the problem. What would become of the royal guards, numbering anywhere between 2,000 and 6,000? We learned after the Narayanhity Carnage that they aren’t under the Nepal Army. We know that their arms and arsenal aren’t under any kind of United Nations supervision.
Surely, the Maoists wouldn’t ask the royal family to leave behind the elite force as republican guards. Any special consideration extended there would anger the ex-people’s warrior. They have been seething since they were told they are no good for the national army.
Let’s back up and take the good-case scenario. Some lawyer files a petition at the Supreme Court arguing that the assembly can’t be considered empowered to abolish the monarchy just because its interim predecessor mandated so. Forget the bench, the registrar would probably need some time to reflect on this one.
The house, meanwhile, could proceed with the preliminaries. It would not need a quorum to gather or even vote. Our legislators, even in the best of times, have perfect a range of stalling techniques. They may not be quite as sophisticated as a filibuster, but they are no less effective. Blocking the rostrum, repeating high-decibel chants, and delivering physical blows are all within legislative precedent. With ex-commissars and ex-commanders entering the chamber armed with the people’s mandate, they would not be constrained from taking matters into their own hands.
The Maoists won’t take long to discover the chink in their armor. They won’t have the luxury of focusing on the vanguard party because the threat of rearguard action remains real.
Khum Bahadur Khadka outside the legislature would be far more perilous than inside. In retrospect, his campaign had a principal flaw. (No, not the fact that the Nepali Congress heavyweight demoralized supporters by withdrawing his candidacy and failing to stick with that for a day.) Instead of reminding the country that he was a republican during King Birendra’s reign, he should have flaunted the fact that he returned with B.P. Koirala from exile in 1976 with a plea for national reconciliation.
Things haven’t gotten out of hand yet, though. It’s far easier to swear by B.P. out of power. Moreover, with the extended third generation of Koiralas now craning their necks, Narayanhity has acquired a new look.
This becomes important since the palace remains central to the Nepal-view of India, China and the United States. Don’t be fooled by the befuddlement of Delhi. The Indians always wanted the elections above everything else. The corollary was that they were prepared to deal with the outcome later.
Mayankote Kelath Narayanan, Prime Minister Manmohan Singh’s national security adviser, had made his country’s preference known well in advance. The day after our election, Singh reconstituted the National Security Advisory Board. Although M.K. Rasgotra was replaced by another ex-foreign secretary who hadn’t also served as ambassador to Nepal, Singh brought in Shyamala B. Cowsik. She was South Block’s Nepal hand during the 1989-90 crisis and would ostensibly complement K.V. Rajan, another former ambassador, who keeps his job on the panel.
King Gyanendra threw up another imponderable in his New Year’s message. Expressing satisfaction at the enthusiastic participation of the people in the elections, he went a step ahead and lauded the emphatic reiteration their “firm resolve not to compromise the nation’s existence, independence and integrity under any circumstance.” Now your head is spinning right? That’s the point. Keep ’em guessing.

Our Wellspring Of Surprises

In our innate ability to throw up surprises, Nepalis have exceled yet again. The constituent assembly elections, which many -- including this keyboard pusher -- thought would see another postponement, went off to a stellar conclusion. Predictions of violence, chaos and the rest fell flat.
Three decades after his "Cardiac Ailment" regaled audiences in the National Dance House, Gopal Prasad Rimal got a fan revival that broke all records. Maybe the man was saner than he got credit for.
Rimal's one-day-in-an-epoch exhortation appealed to an unlikely quarter. "Asia's most humiliated man" -- in the words of a veteran royal enabler (from June 1, 2001-February 1, 2005) turned inveterate critic -- surprised us all. King Gyanendra urged us to vote in droves. Whether we loved or hated him, we did.
The smoothness of the polls brings us to another question. Were the two postponements really a result of our inability to get things right? Or was the extension meant to allow the political forces some pre-poll equipoise? That shall be clearer as the votes are counted. For now, we must read between the media lines.
On the eve of the voting, one could not avoid the transformation in the tone of a section of the Indian media. Those pushing the line that the elections were about bidding adieu to the monarchy began sounding a less definitive tone.
The western media, for its part, has stuck to its line. Now you could attribute that to the Judeo-Christian temptation to avenge Prithvi Narayan Shah's expulsion of the Capuchin priests. (Something that gains credibility with the Southern Baptists' most prominent layman, Jimmy Carter, already detecting paradise in a republican Nepal.) And what better target than the successor who wore his religion on his sleeve.
The last time this media divergence became so stark was after the royal palace massacre. The Indian media were reporting that no male royal had survived the carnage and that how the Maoists were about to storm Narayanhity. The American-led western counterparts were reporting how Prince Gyanendra was alive in Pokhara.
The fact that those who had explicitly blamed Crown Prince Dipendra for the regicide as well as its specific familial dimensions and had urged us to be thankful for King Gyanendra's safe pair of hands turned out to be his bitterest critics after the February 1, 2005 takeover might sound like a footnote during these heady moments. But juxtapose that with the head of the constitutional lawyers' association's post-election assertion that the new assembly is not bound to follow the interim legislature's stricture. It all comes down to surprises, doesn't it?