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Too many stars light up the Himalayan sky. The temptation to compare Prime Minister Balen Shah and Party President Rabi Lamichhane with the pole star is great. But maybe it is early yet, though they are two sides of the same coin.

The Balen ‘craze’ that created the Ballot-box Revolution in March this year has transformed into ‘aura-farming’, despite disruption of parliamentary norms and traditions, though his GenZ followers consider them as mere ‘deviations’.

Balen has become bigger than his name, but he is his own man—but who knows, Rabi is the boss. Breaking his prolonged silence in parliament on May 31, Balen stunned lawmakers by answering questions from them without a stitch of a note, stumbling only on the question of border dispute with India with the shocking revelation that “Nepal too has occupied Indian lands.” He had stirred the hornet’s nest. Later, the Foreign Ministry jumped in for damage limitation, saying “it was in no-man’s land where rivers keep changing course.” India’s Foreign Ministry chimed in, protesting Shah’s inclusion of the UK in the dispute, saying it was a bilateral issue.

In his first 100 days, Balen had pledged 100 goals—most of them populist—with the 74th completed last week. An ambitious budget has elevated salaries of government employees and provided tax concessions. After only the 1960 and 1991 elections, the non-ideological Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) ruled two seats short of a two-thirds majority, though it had no representation in the Upper House and the seven provinces. Further, the first year of the Balen government is dedicated to ‘Good Governance, Accountability and Development’—Development-Diplomacy in short hand—precisely what the people have been demanding for the last three decades.

The urban and political elite and political opposition are not pleased with his style: not meeting people nor speaking to the media; changing through ordinance, composition and powers of constitutional councils; supersession of acting Chief Justice Sapna Pradhan Malla and other measures to depoliticize institutions, though the Supreme Court intervened to block the dissolution of trade unions and student organizations in universities. Balen has regulated diplomatic protocol smothered by the likes of former Chinese Ambassador Hou Yanqi, who used to invade Sheetal Niwas (President’s residence) and Baluwatar (Prime Minister’s residence). Lest we forget, behind the scenes is a third leader: the learned and articulate Finance Minister Swarnim Wagle.

In an interview to a newspaper, Balen’s political confidant, Bhupdev Shah, general secretary of RSP, had said that Prime Minister Balen Shah would not undertake any visits to foreign countries in his first year, thereby preempting Indian Foreign Secretary Vikram Misri’s visit to Kathmandu scheduled for 11–12 May, when he was carrying an invitation from Prime Minister Narendra Modi for Prime Minister Balen Shah to visit India. Speculation was rife that Balen would not meet Misri, like he declined to meet President Trump’s special envoy to South and Central Asia and Ambassador to India. Apparently, the Indian Embassy in Kathmandu verified the contents of the Bhupdev Shah interview before closing the issue.

Earlier, it was being said that Balen might attend the United Nations General Assembly, New York, in September, and a visit to Delhi could be planned before or after that. Grapevine also suggested that India would be his first foreign port of call. Ending uncertainty, the Modi government discovered the perfect alternative to Prime Minister Shah: Party President Lamichhane. It was godsent!

Here are reasons why Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) suddenly invited Lamichhane even as the Misri episode had not died down. Delhi did not want Beijing to spring a surprise. For the first time, the party chair of the establishment in Kathmandu visited Delhi before its Prime Minister—the traditional norm. It was also the first time Prime Minister Modi went to his Party office to meet a foreign dignitary, Lamichhane. This has set a precedent; Indian political parties, mainly the Congress, have dealt with Nepali Congress or the Communists.

While RSP under Lamichhane made its political debut in 2021 with just 21 seats in Parliament, four years later, it rocketed to 182 seats, spurred by GenZ and Nepalis plagued with misgovernance and corruption. The arrival and rise of the non-baggage-carrying and non-ideological RSP is an accident of history, much to the relief of aspirational Nepal. It is this leadership that the BJP-led government is courting. One other crucial factor that prompted the invitation to Lamichhane is that, once he is cleared of court cases, he is the natural successor to Balen, who realizes that the majority of the parliamentary party is with Lamichhane.

Much before Balen hit the spotlight as rapper and outspoken Mayor of Kathmandu, Lamichhane was a household name running the popular TV show, Sidha Kura Janta Sanga. He raised the RSP and became Deputy Prime Minister and Home Minister. In short, for now, Balen is the lead engine and Lamichhane the double engine on the uphill track. The ownership of the mandate is Balen’s; keeping party unity and cohesion are with Lamichhane.

That’s how India’s Neighborhood First policy selected Lamichhane as the BJP’s First Leader from Nepal, and much was made of him in the two days he was in Delhi with band-baaja, et al., and meetings with Modi, Amit Shah, Ajit Doval, S Jaishankar, and notably, Vikram Misri. Lamichhane’s arrival was synchronized with his signed Hindustan Times article that encapsulated aspirational Nepal’s wish-list, playing up Modi’s benchmark Nepal visit in 2014 and listing Kathmandu’s history of grievances. Former Prime Minister Baburam Bhattari and journalist Binod Dhakal responded differently to the article—Bhattarai noting India’s fixation with security of Himalayan frontiers and Dhakal emphasizing institutionalizing high-level diplomacy rather than relying on personal chemistry.

Modi’s statement on X was short and sharp, focused on elevating India’s “special and multifaceted relations to greater heights”. Now the post-election diplomatic vacuum has been bridged. Party-to-party contact is done; G-to-G started with Foreign Minister Shishir Khanal arriving after Lamichhane left. And Lamichhane is one-up on Balen!

In 2014, Modi praised, in Nepal’s Parliament, its soldiers who spilled blood in India’s wars. Before his India’s visit, Lamichhane had met Indian Army Nepali veterans who urged him to help restore Gorkha recruitment—a strategic bonding stopped under the Agniveer scheme by previous governments. Interestingly, RSS was kept out of conversations given that its mouthpiece, Organiser, was skeptical about GenZ and critical of alleged US support for RSP. The royalist Rastriya Prajatantra Party, demolished during the electoral avalanche, has split yet again. Former King Gyanendra has prophetically noted that monarchy is the last option if even the 182-seat government fails.

Notwithstanding stable governments and popular leaders in asymmetric Nepal and India, history has proven relationships are never constant but subject to snakes and ladders. Development diplomacy will likely clash with security and sovereignty concerns.

The author is a General officer [Retd] from Indian Army Gorkha Regiment who has known Nepal since 1959

If you visit Swayambhunath in the mornings, you will find a unique harmony with ancient sounds. Specifically, prayer flags flutter, pilgrims spin prayer wheels and hundreds of Rhesus macaques roam around on the stones. The same thing is repeated on the banks of the holy river Bagmati at Pashupatinath. These UNESCO World Heritage sites are well known throughout the world for this close interaction of man with wildlife.

Yet, beneath the beauty, things are getting worse. Monkeys of Kathmandu’s temples are no longer wild. As cities have expanded rapidly for decades, these sacred places have become isolated concrete islands with forests cut off. These primates are trapped in the city, highly urbanized, hyper-aggressive, and fully reliant on humans. Once a symbol of our sacred coexistence, this tale has now become a complicated ever-growing dilemma for wildlife health.

In Hinduism and Buddhism, feeding animals is an act that brings punya or merit. Devotees and tourists arrive at Pashupatinath to Swayambhunath with bags of bananas, biscuits, bread, and sweets.

Although done with good intentions, this constant supply of high-calorie human food has disrupted the monkeys’ natural instincts:

• Conditioned aggression: Monkeys have learned to associate humans—and specific objects like plastic bags, backpacks, and extended hands—directly with food. If a tourist approaches without a handout, the monkey does not see an admirer; it sees a barrier to its meal, often leading to sudden, aggressive scratching or biting.
• Unnatural overpopulation: In the wild, monkey troop sizes are kept in check by natural food scarcity. The endless buffet at the temples has triggered unnaturally high birth rates, leading to massive troop sizes packed into very tight, crowded human spaces.

The public health angle: Zoonotic risks

The growing human-primate interface, especially in urban settings, is an ideal scenario for zoonotic diseases (zoonoses) to emerge, meaning diseases that can be transmitted from animals to humans. The issue turns from a simple nuisance to a serious public health problem here.

Monkeys are often a source of irritation, causing bites and scratches to visitors, especially children and tourists who may not understand monkey body language. All incidents must be immediately treated medically (at stress and high cost) and every one of these incidents demands rabies and tetanus treatment.

High prevalence of certain viruses, such as Simian Foamy Virus (SFV) and Herpes B virus, have been found in the Rhesus macaques at Swayambhunath and Pashupatinath. These organisms are not usually dangerous to the monkeys, but can be carried to humans through a fluid exchange conducted through a deep scratch or bite, causing serious health problems.

The crisis does not only occur through physical attacks. Animal wastes are a major problem when large populations of monkeys exist. Macaques are often seen rummaging through open bins, leaving behind decaying garbage at the steps and courtyards of the temples and even near water sources used by pilgrims when they are barefoot or conducting religious ceremonies. This makes it much more likely to have outbreaks of gastrointestinal disease in a specific area.

Finding a solution in Nepal requires navigating deep cultural and religious values. In a country where monkeys are treated as living avatars of Lord Hanuman, western methods of wildlife management such as culling or population reduction through elimination are completely unacceptable and culturally offensive.

Meanwhile, the local solutions that have been tried have been completely ineffective:

• The failure of force: By using catapults, sticks or throwing stones, you can only scare off enemies temporarily. Even worse, it makes the monkeys think that humans are active enemies, which will make them hostile and aggressive with humans in the long term.

• The translocation illusion: Moving ‘troublesome’ troops from Kathmandu to outside forests does not work. Because these monkeys have spent generations eating human food, they lack the foraging skills to survive in a true wilderness. They inevitably migrate out of the forests, invading nearby villages or agricultural lands, simply moving the conflict somewhere else.

Kathmandu must shift toward a modern and scientific ‘one health’ approach to preserve the culture of our shrines and safeguard public health.

Nepal must take the cue from the successful international models like in Jaipur, India or parts of Thailand. A systematic, humane population control program based on mass sterilization laparoscopic vasectomy and tubectomy of macaques can gradually decrease the number of animals in the troop over time without any adverse impact on the animals in the troop.

The authorities of the temple have to establish and strictly observe the "No Feeding" zones. Pilgrims should be educated in community outreach activities about the problem of feeding monkeys human food and the effects it has on their health (such as diabetes, dental decay, etc.) and its effect on their behavior (aggression etc.).

Any garbage dump inside the temple should be replaced with a heavy duty waste bin that is resistant to monkeys. Removing the easiest places to dispose of garbage removes one of the most important food sources and allows troops to naturally disperse and spend less time in high-traffic human pathways.

There should be clear and multilingual signage throughout Swayambhunath and Pashupatinath to educate tourists about the basic rules of safety, including avoiding eye contact with primates (which they consider a threat) and keeping food out of their way. Also, there must be a first aid booth with instructions in the temples to immediately wash and treat a monkey wound.

Conclusion

The presence of the monkeys at Pashupatinath and Swayambhunath is a thing which can't be denied as a part of the living story of Kathmandu. Their care must be taken but if the present crisis is left unchecked it will soon go out of control posing danger not only to millions of pilgrims but to the welfare of the animals as well. With a combination of our respect for nature and the use of modern veterinary science and urban planning, Nepal can make wildlife and faith live harmoniously in a safer, healthier environment.

A farmer in Nepal can legally lose an entire season’s harvest to monkeys and receive little more than sympathy in return. Imagine any other sector of the economy functioning this way. If a factory lost half of its production due to repeated external damage, the government would intervene. If a road project was destroyed year after year, emergency funds would be allocated. Yet when farmers lose maize, wheat, vegetables, fruits, and even their willingness to continue farming because of monkey attacks, the response is often limited to temporary solutions and political promises.

This is not just a wildlife issue. It is an agricultural crisis, a rural development crisis, and ultimately a policy crisis. For years, Nepal has approached monkey conflicts as though the monkeys themselves were the problem. Consequently, discussions have revolved around sterilization, relocation, capture, and population control. These measures may satisfy public anger, but they do little to address the underlying drivers of conflict. In fact, after decades of similar interventions in different parts of South Asia, monkey-human conflicts continue to increase. This should force policymakers to ask a simple question: if controlling monkeys was the solution, why does the problem keep getting worse?

The answer lies not in monkey biology but in human decisions. Nepal’s hills are changing rapidly. Villages that once were filled with agricultural activities are becoming quieter each year as young people migrate abroad. Terraces that produced maize and millet now lie abandoned. Shrubs and secondary forests have reclaimed large areas of farmland. Forest cover has increased nationally, a development often celebrated as an environmental success. Yet beneath the positive statistics lies a neglected reality: much of this forest recovery has occurred without strategic land-use planning.

The result is a fragmented landscape where forests, abandoned fields, settlements, and crop lands are intertwined. Ecologists call such areas ‘edge habitats’, zones where wildlife and humans interact most intensely. Unfortunately, edge habitats are exactly where rhesus macaques grow.

From the monkey’s perspective, modern Nepal is a land of opportunity. Natural predators are virtually absent. Forest patches provide shelter. Nearby farms provide abundant food. Abandoned lands serve as safe movement corridors. In ecological terms, Nepal has unintentionally engineered ideal conditions for monkey populations to expand. We have spent years asking how monkeys became so bold. A more honest question is: how did we make it so easy for them?

This distinction is crucial because it determines whether policies succeed or fail. When governments focus solely on reducing monkey numbers, they are treating symptoms. When governments address the landscape conditions encouraging conflict, they are treating causes.

The most overlooked policy tool in Nepal today may therefore be ecological buffering. Unlike sterilization or relocation, ecological buffering does not seek to fight wildlife. Instead, it seeks to redesign the interface between wildlife habitat and human activities. The concept is based on a simple principle: conflict becomes inevitable when attractive crops begin exactly where forests end.

Across much of Nepal, there is no transition zone between monkey habitat and human food production. A troop emerging from a forest can move directly into a maize field within minutes. For an intelligent, opportunistic primate, this is the equivalent of finding a supermarket at the forest gate. Ecological buffering seeks to remove that invitation. Strategically planted belts of bamboo, medicinal plants, aromatic crops, fodder species, or other vegetation that monkeys find less attractive can be established between forests and agricultural land. Such buffers do not function as physical barriers. Rather, they function as ecological filters. They alter movement patterns, reduce crop visibility, and increase the energetic cost of reaching cultivated areas.

The science behind this approach is supported by decades of wildlife management experience. Around the world, successful conflict mitigation increasingly relies on habitat management rather than population eradication. Whether the challenge involves elephants in Africa, wild boars in Europe, or deer in North America, experts have learned a common lesson: wildlife populations are shaped by landscapes. If landscapes encourage conflict, conflict will occur regardless of how many animals are removed.

Nepal’s monkey problem is no exception. Yet ecological buffering alone will not solve the issue. The government must also confront a more uncomfortable reality: monkey conflict has become a symptom of rural neglect. Farmers are being asked to protect food production with little institutional support. Many spend hours guarding fields that generate increasingly uncertain returns. Some have already abandoned cultivation altogether. Every abandoned field represents not only an agricultural loss but also an invitation for further wildlife encroachment.

Therefore, monkey management must be integrated into national agricultural policy. Farmers in high-conflict zones should receive incentives to establish buffer crops. Local governments should incorporate wildlife-conflict mapping into land-use plans. Agricultural extension programs should identify crops that are economically viable yet less attractive to monkeys. Compensation mechanisms must become faster, more transparent, and more realistic.

Most importantly, responsibility for monkey conflict should not rest solely with forestry agencies. This is where Nepal’s current approach falls short. Monkey conflict sits at the intersection of forestry, veterinary, agriculture, local governance, biodiversity conservation, and rural livelihoods. It requires a cross-sectoral response rather than isolated interventions.

There is also a broader lesson here. Nepal’s monkey conflict illustrates a growing challenge of the twenty-first century, the collision between ecological success and policy failure. Forest recovery without land-use planning can create new conflicts. Wildlife conservation without agricultural protection can undermine rural livelihoods. Environmental policies cannot be judged solely by the number of trees planted or hectares reforested. They must also be judged by how well people and wildlife coexist within those landscapes.

The temptation will be to search for quick solutions. Sterilize more monkeys. Capture more monkeys. Move them elsewhere. Such measures generate headlines and create the appearance of action. However, the evidence from around the world suggests that lasting solutions rarely emerge from reacting to animals. They emerge from understanding systems.

The monkey raiding a farmer’s maize field is not the root of Nepal’s problem. It is the visible outcome of years of fragmented planning, unmanaged land-use change, and policy blind spots. In that sense, the monkey is not the villain of the story. It is the messenger. And unless policymakers listen to the message, Nepal may discover that controlling monkeys is far easier than controlling the consequences of ignoring the landscapes that created the conflict in the first place.

In recent years, the phrase “escape the matrix” has become one of the most influential ideas among young people on social media. Platforms such as TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube constantly promote content that portrays traditional 9–5 jobs as symbols of limitation, financial dependence, and ordinary living. At the same time, entrepreneurship, online businesses, and luxury lifestyles are presented as the ultimate forms of freedom and success. As this narrative spreads, many young people, especially students, begin questioning the value of education, professional careers, and structured employment. This raises an important and serious question; Is the 9–5 job truly a “matrix,” or are people becoming victims of algorithm driven perceptions created by social media? 

This debate is particularly relevant in Nepal, where the youth are heavily influenced by global internet culture while simultaneously living in a developing economy that still depends greatly on skilled professionals and organized employment.

The ‘human Life manga’ mentality

Modern internet culture increasingly resembles a “human life manga” which often translates as a storyline where every individual believes they must become extraordinary, wealthy, and completely different from society. In fictional stories and manga, protagonists often reject ordinary life and fight against systems to become exceptional. Social media has transformed this fantasy into a real life expectation.Young people are repeatedly exposed to messages such as “school teaches slavery, jobs are modern chains, if you work for someone else,  you will fail” and constantly portray that real freedom only comes from business.

Over time, ordinary and stable lives begin to appear meaningless compared to the glamorous and luxury lifestyles constantly displayed online. The algorithm rewards emotionally provocative content because controversy and dissatisfaction generate more engagement. As a result, many students begin comparing their real lives to highly edited internet realities.
The real issue is not the existence of jobs. The problem lies in the growing gap between reality and digital perception. Social media often presents success as instant wealth, luxury, influence, and financial freedom at a young age. However, real life success generally requires patience, education, consistency, discipline, and long term effort. This contrast creates frustration among young people who may feel behind in life simply because they are studying, preparing for exams, or considering stable careers. In Nepal, where unemployment and economic instability already exist, blindly rejecting structured employment can create further confusion among youth rather than empowerment.

For example, a  student spends hours watching online influencers who claim to earn large amounts of money through dropshipping, cryptocurrency, or content creation. Gradually, the student starts assuming that college is useless, jobs are slavery, and that he/she must become rich before 25. Without understanding the risks or realities behind such lifestyles, the student may lose focus on long term skill development and realistic career planning. This mindset is based more on perception than evidence. Many successful entrepreneurs first worked traditional jobs before building businesses. Doctors, engineers, lawyers, bankers, civil servants, and IT professionals often use their professional experience as a foundation for future success. Even globally recognized figures such as Steve Jobs, Elon Musk, and Jeff Bezos built their success through structured systems, teamwork, and gradual growth rather than instant freedom. The internet often edits out the years of struggle and uncertainty behind success stories.

Now a very serious concern arises, If every young person rejects jobs in the name of “escaping the matrix,” who will run the institutions that keep society functioning? Who will become teachers, doctors, judges, engineers, journalists, researchers, or civil servants? A society cannot survive only through influencers and online entrepreneurs. Every nation requires stable professionals who contribute through organized systems. Also, High school students are among the most affected groups of this conspiracy as they are in a stage where their identity is still developing, peer comparison is strong, career anxiety is high, and social media influence is extremely powerful. Many students now feel embarrassed about pursuing ordinary careers because internet culture glorifies only extreme wealth and unconventional lifestyles. This can lead to anxiety, confusion, unrealistic expectations, lack of focus, and fear of being average compared to others.
Now, supporters of this idea argue that  jobs limit freedom, employees spend their lives building someone else’s dream, salary growth is slow, and routine destroys creativity. They believe entrepreneurship creates independence, flexibility, financial freedom, and personal control. Their argument contains some truth because certain workplaces can indeed become mentally exhausting or exploitative, but others argue that jobs provide stability and security, and society functions because of professionals. Not everyone wants high risk lifestyles, and meaningful lives can still be built through employment. They also point out that entrepreneurship involves major risks, business success is uncertain, and many online success stories are exaggerated for content and engagement. This perspective emphasizes that dignity exists in all forms of honest work.

Therefore, Nepal does not need a generation that blindly rejects employment. Nepal needs skilled professionals, ethical entrepreneurs, innovative thinkers, competent civil servants, responsible lawyers, modern educators, and youth capable of balancing ambition with realism. The country’s biggest problems are not too many jobs. The real challenges are unemployment, brain drain, lack of industrial growth, limited innovation, and weak economic opportunities.

A developing nation cannot progress if its youth become disconnected from practical reality due to algorithm driven fantasies. Nepal needs both  entrepreneurship and employment, creativity and institutional stability and  ambition and responsibility.

Schools and colleges should teach students how social media algorithms influence thinking, comparison, and behavior and young people must learn that not everything viral reflects reality. Students should be introduced to diverse and realistic career paths, including law, business, public service, technology, research, freelancing, and entrepreneurship. Society should celebrate not only influencers and wealthy entrepreneurs but also teachers, scientists, honest officers, social workers, and professionals contributing quietly to society. Success does not need to follow one formula. A person can work a stable job, build side businesses, invest, create content, and still maintain financial and emotional stability.

Personally, I do not believe the 9–5 job itself is the “matrix.”The real matrix is the constant pressure created by social media that convinces young people they are failures unless they become rich, famous, or extraordinary at an early age. A job is simply a structure. Depending on how it is approached, it can either empower an individual or limit them. Similarly, entrepreneurship can create freedom for some people while creating stress and instability for others.The real goal should not be escaping work entirely. The real goal should be building a meaningful life with dignity, purpose, growth, and stability.

There is also an urgent need for public awareness regarding how algorithms shape career perceptions and self-worth among young people. Parents, schools, policymakers, and media platforms should openly discuss the psychological effects of comparison culture, unrealistic portrayals of success, and the value of balanced career development.Young people must be encouraged to think critically rather than emotionally reacting to online trends.

The traditional 9–5 job is not automatically a matrix.  For many people, it remains a source of dignity, stability, contribution, and growth. The greater danger lies in blindly consuming algorithm driven narratives that glorify unrealistic lifestyles while devaluing ordinary but meaningful work. Ultimately, success should not be defined solely by wealth, internet popularity, or unconventional careers. A truly successful life is one built with purpose, awareness, balance, and independent thinking.