Chandra Shamsher (1863-1929) remains the most powerful and longest-serving prime minister of Nepal. One of the first of the family of Gorkhali elite to get a matriculation, he had fully internalised the lesson from the intrigues for succession in the royal courts: The power invariably goes to the cruellest, the cunningest and the craftiest rather than to the simplest, sincerest or the most skilful claimant.

Along with brothers Bhim and Khadga, Chandra was instrumental in the murder of Ranodip Singh Kunwar (1825-1885) and the subsequent transfer of premiership from the Jungs to the Shamshers. He waited for Bhim to die, ousted Dev in a bloodless coup, forced Khadga to flee the country and collaborated with the British to entrench himself on the Rana throne. His symbolic gestures such as the establishment of Tri-Chandra College, the proscription of the Sati system and the abolition of slavery are justly celebrated. He also inflicted lasting damage on Nepali society and polity in different ways.

Chandra initiated the massive recruitment of Gurkhas from the countryside to fight for the British in the First World War. It caused the pauperisation of the peasantry as fields remained fallow due to the flight of labour from rural areas. For a share in the profits, he allowed importers to flood the bazaars with cheap machine-made goods that destroyed the cottage industry. Organised logging on a mass scale in the Tarai-Madhesh benefited him in multiple ways—the sale of sal wood brought enormous profits, cheap timber supply for railway sleepers pleased the British and huge tracts became available for land grants to family members and loyalists.

By dutifully cultivating British overlords, Chandra also wanted to replace Jang Bahadur Kunwar (1817-1877)—the founder of hereditary premiership—as the greatest of the Ranas. One of the first things he did to secure his place was to declare the Bikram Sambat calendar mandatory nationwide. Since the standardisation of the lingua franca had become necessary for the British to weave their Gorkhali soldiers from various ethnicities into one whole, he allowed the establishment of Gorkha Bhasha Prakashini Samiti.

Chandra’s most damaging contribution is perhaps the Singha Durbar—an architectural legacy of the excesses of Ranarchy (1846-1951)—which has become a metaphor for ruthless rule and conspicuous construction. The abode of kings of the Malla era had been humane in scale; the trend of the Ranas fencing off huge tracts of farmland to erect their mansions gained momentum after Chandra commissioned individual palaces for each of his progenies.

Cast out from communism for being an advocate of “socialism with a human face”, the Czech French novelist Milan Kundera turns Karl Marx’s resigned description of religion as the “opiate of the people” into an acquiescent expression—“Optimism is the opium of the people”. Born on “All Fools Day”, Kundera also knew that when faced with power, conformism came naturally to most people and resistance is often considered a symptom of foolishness.

Edifice complex

The much-vaunted resilience of Nepalis perhaps owes its existence to the double dose of the psychological opiate—deep religiosity and mindless optimism—that makes them bear the burden of history with a slavish pride intrinsic to the people with a long tradition of subjecthood. Little wonder, every politico with an “edifice complex” is hailed as later-day Chandra.

The once-majestic Sundhara waterspouts where residents of central Kathmandu once gathered on weekends to wash themselves till the 1970s stand overshadowed. The iconic buildings of the General Post Office and the Foreign Post Office from the 1960s have been razed. The stump of the Dharhara destroyed in the Gorkha Earthquake stays forlorn behind a screen of tattered nylon mesh. Amidst the erased relics, a rotund brick and concrete structure juts out of the ground as if to announce that whatever may change in the land of Lord Pashupati, the fascination of its rulers with erecting monuments has remained the same since the 1820s when Bhimsen’s folly was built for no apparent purpose and signifying nothing.

Bhimsen Thapa (1775-1839) is sometimes erroneously called the longest-serving prime minister. Even though he remained the de facto ruler between 1806 and 1837, he was merely a Mukhtiyar—an ethnonational chieftain of the Gorkhali nation—with the primary responsibility of protecting the tribe’s honour. After the humiliation in the “Treaty of Segauli” at the hands of East India Company, which was just a trading enterprise with a fighting force of fierce Indian mercenaries including some Gurkhas, perhaps he had to erect a symbolic pole to raise the morale of his troops.

In the memory of the Mukhtiyar, the tower of Gorkhali hubris came to be called the Bhimsen Stambha in Nepali. It was only after his sad end—whether he was slowly killed or disgraced in death after suicide remains a mystery—that priests and pandits of the court decided to popularise the Dhar-hara (Holder of Hara or Lord Shiva) appellation.

When rebuilt on the orders of Juddha Shamsher (1875-1952) after being destroyed in the Great Bihar-Nepal Earthquake of 1934, the Dharhara had become fatter and taller. After he managed to ride out several controversies over the fast-tracked constitution of 2015, CPN-UML supremo Khadga Prasad Sharma Oli began to fancy himself as the ethnonational chieftain of all Khas-Arya and the later-day Mukhtiyar. The “palanquin press” of the time sang praises in his glory.

Oli’s folly

It was in the post-2016 euphoria of ethnonational invincibility that the decision was made to erect a bigger, taller and grander “Oli’s Folly” adjacent to the fallen Dharhara to proclaim the victory of Khas-Arya in the making of the republican constitution.

The re-erection of Dharhara had become the leitmotif of the resurgence of ethnonational pride as its replicas in gypsum and cardboard had been put up in public places. The post-quake reconstruction and rehabilitation were pushed into the background. Elections for local government bodies were announced to safeguard the controversial constitution through its hasty implementation.

Ever since, the governments of federal, provincial and local levels have been competing to erect their own monuments of glory. A grand welcome gate at every entry point of a municipality in Tarai-Madhesh; a cow, a pig, an orange or a cauliflower in painted concrete at urban crossroads; and a view tower at all important peaks in the mid-mountains have become the order of the day.

In the Philippines, critics came up with neologisms such as “Marcosian” scale and “Imeldific” splendour to ridicule the architecture of power of the Marcoses—kleptocratic dictator Ferdinand (1917-1989) and the first lady with extraconstitutional authority Imelda—and mock their edifice complex. In Nepal, it’s not just the business tower of Damak, but all such structures of whimsical self-aggrandisement being erected by elected versions of tinpot tyrants should perhaps be categorised as “Olific” monuments!

The Bikram Sambat 2080 in Nepal was just as it has always been—more discovered, uncovered and hidden corruption cases, a consistent exodus of youths to distant warzones and increasing apathy of the people to misgovernance. Despite the gloom and doom, here is wishing you a “Happy and prosperous New Year 2081” with a mixed dose of Marxian opiate and Kunderian optimism!