The King Must Return

In the streets of Kathmandu, Pokhara, and the dusty plains of the Terai, an old chant has found new life: “Raja aauna parchha.” The king must return. What began as scattered whispers from royalists has swelled into a national chorus. And this time, it’s not just nostalgia. These are not sentimental calls for a bygone era but loud, unfiltered protests against a broken status quo.

The demonstrations reflect deep dissatisfaction, a disdain for unmet promises, fatigue with chaotic governance, and a sense that the republican experiment has lost its way. For many Nepalis, especially the youth, the answer is political instability, economic stagnation, and a class of leaders who rotate chairs but deliver little.

Nepal, once the world’s only Hindu kingdom, abolished its monarchy in 2008 with grand aspirations: unity, federalism, and a brighter future. But nearly two decades on, what does the democratic republic have to show? The monarchy was dismantled after a decade-long Maoist insurgency that took over 17,000 lives. The transition to a republic was celebrated as a moment of the people’s power. Leaders vowed to build a system based on democratic ideals, inclusion, and fairness. But what they delivered instead was a carousel of unstable coalitions and repeated constitutional crises.

Since 2008, Nepal has had over a dozen governments, each short-lived and most dysfunctional. Coalition politics have devolved into a game of alternating leadership. The same faces return to power in different positions, as if the electorate doesn’t matter. The constitution, born of compromise, has never enjoyed full consensus. It has been amended, challenged, and disputed repeatedly. Confidence in the state has eroded.

Pushpa Kamal Dahal, once a revolutionary voice, now leads a coalition many view as weak, reactive, and opportunistic. His leadership, instead of heralding change, is blamed for deepening public disillusionment. The institutions under him are fragile. Trust in governance is thinning. Foreign policy flip-flops between Delhi and Beijing signal a lack of long-term strategy. And amid this vacuum, an old idea is resurfacing. The monarchy once dismissed and even despised, is being reimagined as a stabilizing symbol, not as a return to absolute rule.

Gyanendra Shah, Nepal’s last king, is the center of this quiet revival. Since his removal, he has largely remained silent. But in a political landscape replete with noise and theatrics, silence is powerful. His calm, stoic distance from the mess of party politics makes him, for many, a stark contrast to the chaos of the day.

The Rastriya Prajatantra Party (RPP), Nepal’s leading pro-monarchy voice, has seized the opportunity. Their rallies now draw crowds in the thousands. Their slogans echo across provinces. What’s telling is that much of their support comes from younger generations, people who never lived under a monarchy but have grown up in a faltering republic.

The reasons aren’t hard to find. Joblessness, inflation, and mass migration have disillusioned millions. As Himal Southasian reports, ‘the youth are leaving Nepal in droves, not for adventure, but for survival.’