The opening session of the new Parliament this past Wednesday will be remembered for many reasons. The body that represents Nepal’s sovereignty had to meet in what resembled a godown. Looking like school kids, the MPs were seated in rows of four. Instead of the staid of old, Prime Minister Balendra Shah came clad in a jacket thrown over what looked like a T-shirt or a sweatshirt. Not far from him sat the former Maoist, Pushpa Kamal Dahal Prachanda, rather subdued, the truth perhaps having finally dawned on him that he was well and truly out of power.

The proceedings were also noteworthy for the social identity of those who spoke. Among the speakers yesterday were a Rai (Harka Sampang), a Limbu (Bhisma Raj Angdembe), three Magars (Ram Bahadur Thapa, Barsha Man Pun and Mahabir Pun) and a Gurung (Sudan). Including the pro-tem speaker (Arjun Narsingh KC), there were just three individuals representing what in common parlance are known as Bahun-Chhetri (officially, the Khas Arya), and that included a Thakuri (Gyanendra Shahi) from far-off Jumla.

There was one other occasion in post-2006 Nepal that such a situation had come to pass. That was during the adoption of the new national anthem in 2007. The parliamentary proceedings were conducted with Subhas Chandra Nembang (a Limbu) in the chair. The culture minister who at the time introducing the anthem was Prithvi Subba Gurung, the lyricist was Byakul Mahila (a Rai), and the composer was Amber Gurung. Flitting around like a gadfly was the Parliament’s general secretary, Surya Kiran Gurung.

All very nice and perhaps a herald of a New Nepal in both instances. Except for the zero presence of women in either case. And, from the perspective of Madheshis and Dalits (and even the northern tsampa-eaters), it was a classic case of the more things change, the more they remain the same. The Janajatis may have been out in force, but their background meant they are part and parcel of what Madheshis perceive to be the hill-dominated state. Equally so for Dalits, since Janajatis are representative of the source of prejudice as well as occasional violence they have been subjected to over the centuries.

Blame game

In the run-up to the elections, I happened to read this pointed comment by journalist Basanta Basnet: “Communists never lose an election. They are either victorious or there is cheating.”

Right on cue came the extraordinary rant from Ram Bahadur Thapa of the CPN–UML at the opening session of Parliament. Thapa is both leader of the UML’s parliamentary party and, with KP Sharma Oli languishing in detention, the acting chair. Doing what would have been thought the impossible, i.e., outdoing his boss and benefactor, Oli, in talking absolute gibberish, he managed to blame the Nepali Army, the bureaucracy, the Sushila Karki government, the Gauri Bahadur Karki investigation commission, the Barbara Foundation, nameless NGOs and equally unknown characters, hidden powers, the bikers known as TOB, AI, algorithms and multiple Goebbels.

There was enough blame to apportion to everyone but his own party and his beloved leader.

Dressing sense

Some months ago, French President Emmanuel Macron created a bit of a stir when he appeared in sunglasses to address the gathering at Davos. That was because everyone knows it is against etiquette to wear sunglasses indoors. Similar etiquette requires that you remove your glasses when you meet someone or when you talk to them. That fundamental rule seems to be lost among most of our political leaders. How many times have I cringed seeing foreign visitors being received with all the pomp the Nepali state is good but with their hosts hiding their eyes behind tinted lenses. At least that part had not changed. After their swearing-in, as the new cabinet members greeted well-wishers and the diplomatic corps, five of the new ministers continued to sport their sunglasses.

There have been others with similar predilections. Growing up, there was this chap, Wojciech Jaruzelski of Poland, whose photos always showed him in dark glasses. There was also this minister in Nepal, DP Adhikari, and, of course, the most famous of all, King Mahendra. I do not know about Adhikari, but Jaruzelski suffered from an eye ailment while Mahendra had what is politely called ‘misaligned eyes’. A pity that members of our former royalty sympathised by donning shades at every opportunity, and top state functionaries assumed that to be de rigueur and followed suit.

Now that the prime minister will be appointing advisers for this and that, what he should seriously consider is getting an Adviser on Fashion Etiquette. To enlighten him about such niceties and about dressing properly for the occasion. Admittedly, he looks good in his trademark informal black attire. But that will have to change when he begins really playing the role of the country’s prime minister.

Remember the hectoring Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelenskyy was subjected to at the White House for seemingly disrespecting the office of the US president by appearing in combat fatigues. The fact is, it is expected that you are dressed appropriately as befits the occasion. Some like Fidel Castro have got away with it because of their past, but most usually conform. For what may look like sartorial elegance in one setting can be viewed as downright rude in another.

Youngsters at the helm

One of the most distinguishable characteristics of the current cabinet is its youth. It is a remarkable transition from the usual gerontocratic bunch to a prime minister aged just 35 and surrounded by people his age or younger. Only five are past 40, with the ‘elder’ in the cabinet at just 51. Which is only as it should be, following as radical a shake-up as the Gen Z revolution.

There is precedent, of course, in Nepal of relative youngsters being at the helm, namely, following the downfall of the Rana regime in 1951. Unlike in the Indian case, where the independence struggle lasted decades and by the time the British quit India in 1947, the prominent leaders had grown old: Mahatma Gandhi, 77, Patel, 71, Jinnah, 70, Rajendra Prasad, 62, Maulana Azad, 58, Nehru, 57, and Ambedkar, 56, among others. When the armed revolt against the Ranas began, the Nepali Congress had been organised for less than five years, and the anti-Rana fighting petered out in less than two months.

It was hence no surprise that the Rana–Nepali Congress cabinet of February 1951 was full of young ones. As the establishment, the Rana representatives were the oldies, but BP Koirala was just 36, Ganesh Man Singh, 35, and Bhadrakali Mishra had just turned 31. The baby in the cabinet was Bharat Mani Sharma, at 23, while the senior-most Congressite was 40-year-old Subarna Shamsher Rana. When the Nepali Congress single-handedly formed the government a few months later, it was led by Matrika Prasad Koirala, 39. Not counting the three ministers about whom information is not easily available, Surya Prasad Upadhyaya and Khadga Man Singh were the oldest in that cabinet, both 44.

Even in 1963, when Tulsi Giri became the first prime minister under the Panchayat constitution, he was only 36. The record though goes to Surya Bahadur Thapa, who got to be acting prime minister for three days in 1955 at the ripe young age of 27.

These young old-timers came to power at a different time and perhaps were stymied by structural, institutional, societal, economic and even personal factors to make a whole lot of difference to the lives of Nepalis. The Balendra Shah government does not and cannot have that excuse. Given that their performance will be compared to that of the series of lacklustre governments we have seen, it should not be too difficult a task. All they have to do is do their job with integrity and sincerity, and they will be halfway there.

There’s a line from an old Costa-Gavras movie, The Sleeping Car Murder, which refers to ‘…all young people who’ve done nothing yet have opinions about everything’. Unlike the characters referred to here, we can only hope the strong opinions of our young ministers are more grounded, either on hands-on experience or knowledge acquired otherwise.