Is this really leadership, or are we all just blindly following? Welcome to politics in Nepal. Would you like it to sound more serious, sarcastic, or catchy?
Do we believe in leadership in Nepal? Sure—but only the kind where one person says “jump” and everyone else rushes to ask “how high.” If that’s leadership, then Nepal might as well be the world capital of blind obedience.
Take our recent political drama. The main opposition party stormed into Parliament, shouting about corruption and demanding a minister’s resignation over a visa scam. It looked like a serious stand for justice. But just when the public started hoping for real accountability, those same opposition leaders did a complete U-turn. Days later, they signed a deal with the very people they had been accusing, all in the name of "smooth parliamentary function."
Suddenly, the corrupt became cooperative. What changed? Nothing—except the leader’s decision. And when the leader changes direction, the rest follow without question. No protest, no pushback. Logic takes a back seat the moment the top boss speaks.
And believe it or not, things got even more ridiculous. The Nepali Congress and UML—two parties that have spent years attacking each other—are now working together in a so-called unity government. These two once acted like sworn enemies, but now they’re sharing power like old friends at a reunion. It’s a political plot twist so absurd, even a Bollywood movie might reject it.
Yet, party members act like nothing’s wrong. No one dares to speak out. Yesterday’s betrayal is today’s “political maturity,” all because the top leaders say so. It’s like Nepal has turned into a reality show—full of nonsense, but somehow still applauded.
This is the digital age. Even in remote villages, people can Google scams, read court decisions, or listen to leaked audios within minutes. But despite all the information available, many still follow the same old leaders with blind loyalty—as if they were celebrities. Ironically, some of these leaders can’t even open a PDF file and think internet memes are criminal.
It’s starting to feel like we’re back in the French monarchy days. Remember Queen Marie Antoinette and her “let them eat cake” attitude? Our political elite behave the same—out of touch, drunk on power, and good at making speeches while the country struggles.
And the people? We gather at tea shops, arguing over which leader is better—like we’re picking football teams. “My leader is the best!” “No, mine is!” Meanwhile, the country drifts aimlessly, and barely anyone notices or cares.
Loyalty has replaced logic. Criticizing a leader feels like betrayal. Even the youth—who should be modern, aware, and bold—often repeat outdated party slogans from politicians who still use button phones and think AI means “Aama-Institution.”
Where’s the accountability? Where’s the outrage? Or have we all fallen under the spell of a political version of “Simon Says”? If a decision doesn’t make sense, that’s probably because it doesn’t. And if no one questions it, it’s probably because we’ve confused blind obedience with patriotism.
Nepal doesn’t lack talent or potential. It lacks true leadership—and the courage to challenge the fake ones. Until that changes, our leaders will keep performing, and we’ll keep clapping. This isn’t democracy anymore. It’s a puppet show. And the saddest part? We seem to be enjoying it.
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