The Raw Materials of Democracy

March 5 is approaching. The weather is electoral. Change is in the air, assurances hang like smoke, and dust clouds of excitement swirl through the crowds.

Suddenly, politics has spread across the country like a contagious disease. Yesterday’s artists who sang on stage are pounding speeches from podiums today. Yesterday’s journalists who used to write are shouting fiery slogans. Yesterday’s businessmen and social workers are aspiring MPs.

Yesterday’s Facebook Live has transformed into an election vibe today. Anyone who does not enter politics now looks suspicious and useless, as if to say, “Something is wrong; why is this person still independent?”

The old parties look terrified. The new parties look relaxed. Only working people like us are feeling disturbed and disoriented. Speeches and party programs have disrupted the work environment. Everyone is in a hurry to build the country—until March 5.

After the election rush, the country will probably build itself!

Getting an election ticket was not that difficult this time. Qualifications? First, you need to be famous. Commitment can come later. That is how everyone—from hawkers to murderers, from the employed to the unemployed, from TikoTokers to the reel clowns—has managed to snatch a ticket. It is enough to have fans; ideology will come running after you on its own. Because today, it is not ideas that matter; it’s views, it’s news – even if it’s nude! No plans, no programs—just crowds. And people love spectacles: in parties, in halls, and on social media. We Nepalis have plenty of free time. For about a month and a week, we won’t need comedy shows or South Indian movies—the run-up to the election is entertainment enough!

The election has come at a time when problems are piling up. Inflation? Put it on hold until the election. Unemployment? Full employment is already in the manifesto. Good governance? It is “on the way”, like a guest who will arrive after the election.

Look at the manifesto of any political party. Different photos, different fonts, but the same meaning! Old promises in new covers. Old dreams with new slogans. When the input is the same, the output will be the same too. But don't worry. Because, this time, hope is in high definition!
At this point, except for a few working people, almost everyone has become a leader. They even caught an old man selling books and made him a minister—he is contesting the election now! In this way, the country has not only become self-sufficient in the supply of leaders, but export-worthy as well.

Leaders deliver speeches, “the people are our gods.” “God” is a safe word because gods do not speak and do not ask questions. They bless by casting votes and then sit quietly, circling around the temple for five years, hoping for prasad.

In a democracy, people are not voters; they are raw materials. Before elections, they are mined—from quarries of speech and furnaces of emotion. Sometimes they are melted into the “son of the people,” sometimes into the “voice of the poor,”, sometimes into “a mother’s tears.”

As elections draw closer, the value of people increases. Yesterday ignored, today visited. Yesterday doors closed, today selfies. People who didn’t even know each other's names until yesterday suddenly become “brothers and sisters.” Some make you a brother, some an uncle. Some a mother, some even a god. But no one makes you a citizen. Because citizens ask questions, and questions are expensive in a democracy!

This time, Gen Z is also in the field. Some have not come with slogans but with questions – “Why?” This word should have been banned in electoral politics. “Why” cuts through speeches, tears posters, and strips promises naked. That's why everyone is trying to look Gen-G, with dark sunglasses and black hair, while the agenda remains pale white!

Some got new coats stitched for the election. Some changed daura suruwal, some switched jackets. But the thinking remains old. Only the profile picture has changed. New parties have arrived too. Their names sound like guaranteed change, but once inside, it’s the same faces and the same attitude. New stickers, old complaints. New press releases, recycled ideas.

Many say, “This time will be different.” The same was said last time—and the time before that. Here, history is on repeat mode. The only difference is that this time, the speeches are live-streamed.

Still, voters are excited! Because hope is cheap.  Voting costs nothing. It only becomes expensive later. There is no tax on dreaming, after all—and disappointment is something we practice regularly. 

Before elections, the country looks as if all the problems have quietly given up and are sitting in a corner.  After the election, those same problems will come knocking on the doors of power once again.

Anyways, everyone is invited to this festival of democracy. Leaders get platforms.  Workers get slogans. People get the line. Standing in line is the most continuous and consistent practice of democracy.

Finally, March 5 will come. There will be lines again. Votes will be cast. Counting will begin. Some will win, some will lose. Some will make ideology, some will make the government, and some will issue press statements.

After the election, the people will turn from gods back into mice—silent for five years. Those who win will transform from mice into gods. And democracy? It will be happy, because once again it will have received plenty of raw material.

As for us, we will just keep waiting, as the song says:

Wait, my beloved
Time takes people from places to places
Sometimes it makes them laugh 
Sometimes it makes them cry 
Sometimes it takes them from minister to crowd
Sometimes from crowd to the stage
Sometimes it takes them to Chitwan, Gorkha and sometimes Rukum
Someone to the Supreme Court, someone dragged to Janakpur
It creates a meeting point
of tears and laughter

(This article was originally published in February 2026 issue of New Business Age magazine.)