Kathmandu woke up this past Saturday expecting a scene straight out of an Avengers movie. The "other" Gen Z activists (you know the ones—more aesthetic than activist) and the perpetually unrepentant EhMaaley Jholeys were practically foaming at the mouth. They were calling for hand-to-hand combat, ready to defend the sacred "illegal settlements" of the Bagmati with their lives—or at least with some very angry Instagram stories.

But instead of Braveheart, we got a "let’s just get this over with" vibe that was as underwhelming as a dry sel-roti. The security forces, the administration, and even the squatters looked like they’d rather be home watching reruns of a tele-serial. The revolution wasn't televised; it was just tired.

The 10% Reality Check

As it turns out, the "Sukumbaasi" label is being used as loosely as the term "expert" on Nepali Twitter. We discovered that less than 10% of these folks are actual, real-deal squatters in need of a roof and a break.

The rest? Oh, they are the Hukumbaasis. These are the entrepreneurial spirits who have spent three decades extorting others by building tin shacks and charging rent. It’s a classic Nepali hustle: cry for the poor while collecting the landlord’s cut. Since the 90s, we’ve had more "Sukumbaasi Commissions" than we’ve had stable power cuts. These commissions were basically Santa Claus for political cadres—gifting land to cousins and cronies while the actual homeless were left to fend for themselves in the mud.

Balen: The Dictator or the Developer?

The old-school media and those "foreign-funded" online portals—bless their hearts—tried their best to paint Balen as a heartless dictator. They claimed he was bulldozing the downtrodden just to polish his own ego.

Now, I don't know if Balen dreams in architectural blueprints or rap lyrics, but one thing is clear: he isn’t in Singha Durbar to fill his pockets with the usual "chiya-paani" billions. He’s playing the long game. He wants his name in the history books. While former monarchs and old-school leaders fight over who gets to be the "Father of the Nation," Balen is gunning for the "Father of a Developed Nepal" title. If he pulls it off and makes us better than Singapore, we might even forgive him for the traffic.

Lakeside? No, Bagmati Side!

Imagine this: June arrives, the monsoon hits, and for the first time in thirty years, we aren't watching a tragedy unfold on the news. No human lives swept away by the annual "Bagmati Surprise."

Yes, we will still have floods—this is Kathmandu, after all—and some bastis will get their five-foot serving of dhamilo hilo paani (muddy water). But once the sewage is sorted and the cancer of illegal encroachment is carved out, things might actually be… nice? Who knows, in a few years, Pokhara’s Lakeside might be looking over its shoulder. The Bagmati buzz could be the next big thing. Move over, Phewa Tal; we’ve got treated sewage and historical vindication!

A Rare Face of Humanity

In a shocking twist, our security personnel actually showed a humane side. Instead of the usual "latthi-charge first, ask questions later" approach, they were seen helping both real and fake squatters move their fridges and sofas. They even offered a shoulder to cry on.

It was a beautiful moment of professionalism. Let’s keep it that way. We’ve had enough "egghead" politicians lose their seats because they thought shooting protesters was a valid urban planning strategy. To the Balen government: keep the bullets in the pouch. Deal with the thugs legally, protect the personnel, but for the love of the Bagmati, let’s leave the "fake encounters" in the bad action movies of the 90s.

Jai Nepal!