A new political language is being crafted in Nepal, which is sharp, shiny and one that instantly generates a ‘feel-good’ effect on social media. It can be called ‘dopamine government’ that runs more on narrative than on policies, survives more on performance than on reforms and depends more on immediate excitement than on long-term change.

This governance model repeatedly gives the public small political pleasures, such as sudden inspections, actions on camera, viral announcements, tough statements, etc. Every step is a visual, every decision is a clip, and every clip is designed to generate an emotional reaction. Amid this ‘dopamine politics’ emerges another frame: Hindutva in blue.

The symbolic colour of the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP), blue, is not just a visual identity in the Nepali context but also a political sign language. This colour constructs meaning on multiple levels. First, it claims modernity without rejecting tradition. Hindu cultural memory remains intact, but an overt religious agenda is not put forward. Second, it presents itself as a ‘moderate’ or ‘neutral’ party. Third, it appeals to the young, educated and digital class. Fourth, the colour blue is generally associated with stability, trust, restraint and a professional technocratic image. In politics, it signals: ‘We are not aggressive, we are reliable’.

However, in Nepal’s cultural psyche, the colour blue is not entirely ‘neutral’. In Hindu traditions, gods are often described in blue forms. Here, an interesting layer emerges: Direct religious politics is not practised, but, through the colour, a cultural memory is kept active. No slogans during election campaigns or after coming to power, but there is a presence. No declarations, but there is a tilt. No confrontation, but the direction is clear.

When a political force adopts the blue colour, it also sends another message: We are different from the traditional ‘red’ (leftist) forces. We are ‘new’, ‘system-breaking’ and ‘clean’. It also creates the impression that we practice the politics of work, not ideology. We want solutions, not conflict. In this way, ‘Blue’ becomes not just a colour, but a strategic political language. It fits seamlessly into the frame of dopamine government, i.e., visual branding, attractive presence on social media and a youth-oriented image.

After the recent mandate, the RSP presented itself as an alternative to traditional parties. Anti-corruption, good governance, technical efficiency and representation of the aspirations of the new generation—all of this sounds attractive. But when a cultural tilt is quietly embedded along with these slogans, the matter ceases to be only about ‘governance’ and becomes one of ideology.

However, after coming to power, its behaviour, priorities and symbols have begun to reveal a distinct ideological layer. In this context, the question arises: Is Nepal’s new ‘blue politics’ actually ‘Hindutva in Blue’? This term does not merely refer to colour or symbols, but points to the ideological direction of power. One that does not present itself openly as religious nationalism, but in practice appears tilted towards ‘soft Hindutva’.

The end of the monarchy and the establishment of a secular republic in Nepal were historic achievements. This change was not only political but also ideological, as it sought to redefine the relationship between the state and religion. But with the rise of a new political force, an interesting trend has emerged. The same state is gradually blurring its boundaries in the name of a ‘middle path’. Neither openly secular nor openly religious, but a strategic ambiguity. And in politics, ambiguity is never neutral. It is always tilted in some direction.

‘Hindutva in Blue’ is the name of this hidden agenda. It does not debate openly, but slowly becomes normalised. It goes to the temple and gently rings the bell. It talks about culture but does not call it an ideology. It is important to understand that the Hindutva being discussed here is not in an aggressive or declared form. It may be more appropriate to call it ‘Sanatan-sensitive politics’. It manifests through signals, priorities and selective silences.

Public presence at religious sites, a tilt on issues of cultural identity and ambiguity on matters of alternative identities. A major claim of the new politics has been ‘post-politics’: That we are beyond ideologies; we only want to work. But this very claim creates the biggest illusion. No power can truly be apolitical. When a government says it is only focused on ‘delivery’, it is actually hiding the deeply political questions: What is to be delivered? And for whom is it to be delivered?

‘Hindutva in Blue’ thrives within this claim. It does not enter open ideological debate but gradually establishes its cultural priorities in the name of ethnic harmony and personal faith. The new leadership, which calls itself clean, system-breaking and new-age, is actually conducting another bold experiment. It does not reject ideology; it makes it invisible.

Social media has become an important tool for this politics. Here, an emotional narrative is built in the name of nationality, culture and pride. It does not directly polarise religious lines but promotes the imagination of cultural uniformity. It does not roar from a Hindutva platform as it goes to the temple, but does not turn the temple into a slogan. This is its strength, and this is its fundamental difference in character from its neighbours.

Nepal’s social structure was originally defined by the active monarchy as being built on Hindu cultural traditions. Today, it is a republic, and the state is secular. This is the point from where the politics of ‘soft Hindutva’ is born. Political leadership faces a dilemma: If it openly talks of a Hindu nation, it will clash with the constitutional framework. If it adopts strict secularism, it will disconnect from the cultural sensitivities of society. The solution to this dilemma is the ‘middle path’, and this middle path is ‘Hindutva in Blue’.

‘Hindutva in Blue’ is actually the cultural version of dopamine politics. It makes the public feel that their identity is safe, their culture is being respected, and their emotions are being understood without any major structural change. It is a form of emotional management. Hindu culture in Nepal already exists in the structure of society and daily life. It does not need to be established; it only needs to be operated. That is why Hindutva here is softer. It expresses itself not through struggle but through nationality, tradition and authenticity.

Nepal’s politics is currently in a phase of transition. Old symbols are breaking, and new ones are being formed. In this period of change, ‘Blue’ is not merely a colour but a narrative, a narrative that presents itself as neutral yet within which politics is operating at multiple levels.

Ultimately, the health of democracy will depend on how deeply citizens can read this narrative. Do they only see the colour, or do they also understand the several meanings hidden within it? Because sometimes, the deepest politics is precisely that which appears the least political.

This question can no longer be avoided. If ‘Blue’ is not just a colour but a curtain, then the colour hidden behind it must be recognised. Having an open debate on it would be the true service to democracy.