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Not just a buzzword. The ceaseless penchant for geopolitics in the world of foreign policy analysis appears mediocre. An addiction, precisely, when it comes to probing Nepal-India ties. And, when such probes become so instant and swift, one’s hasty haven in the geopolitical scrutiny doesn’t appear thick, convincing, and credible. After all, geopolitics is never the foundation of any bilateral ties. It’s only an interpretation having a long militarist and colonial tradition. When a state’s physical proximity is intertwined with the larger political chronicles, a fashioned narrative is sketchily developed, dismissing the larger component of cultural homogeneity and civilizational affinities, in the pursuit of the interest of lobbyists, interest groups, and power elites. In reality, people and their mobility in the porous and interdependent borderlands are the foundation of the Nepal-India ties. But, understanding and appreciating their everyday experiences aptly seeks anthropological and sociological approaches. It means an armed-chaired geopolitician needs to get rid of xeroxing media narratives and his own temperament and instead get into the field, which demands more time and energy. At times, money too. Because without field visits and observations, one’s understanding of Nepal-India relations may remain away from reality. Or else, it would be a pool of overstretched secondary details sans any novel perspective. It’s not only because of the resurrection of geopolitical accounts, globally, in the wake of the Russian-Ukraine crisis that geopolitics has been the dominant discourse in analyzing Nepal-India ties. Instead, it has become a ritual in the context of Nepal-India relations. Not surprisingly, the early geopolitical chronicles encompassing the post-1950 Nepal-India relations were weightily swayed by the spread of American strategic thoughts during the Cold War period. After the Cold War geopolitics was popularized in South Asia by American political scientists including Leo E Rose, the concept of “balancing” lured the Nepali foreign policymakers, and the west-educated Indian leaders were also not upset by the idea of Indian “influence” in the region. As such, the geopolitical narratives evolved in the bilateral ties that have always cherished their civilizational linkages. Despite the longevity of the civilizational ties and durability of connected histories, the sense of beguilement among the foreign policy practitioners/analysts/experts for the geopolitical elucidation has done more damage than benefits to the bilateral ties. Actually, it's where the ordeals commence. Why geopolitically burdened?   Both our foreign policy imaginations and the foreign policy rhetoric are cripplingly laden with geopolitical thoughts. One of the popular geopolitical narratives on Nepal-India relations is the critique of the continuity of the colonial hangover in India’s policy toward Nepal. Such narratives are framed by treading on discourses of the imperialist geopolitics propounded by Ratzel, Mahan, and Mackinder. Nehru’s Himalayan Frontier Policy is sloppily cited—without understanding the actual context—in disparaging India’s foreign policy behavior. While imperialist geopolitics was triggered by the project of state expansionism, Nehru’s frontier policy was influenced by the Cold War geopolitics globally popularized by George Kennan, Kissinger, and other American and Soviet military leaders. The China factor has further wrought our geopolitical elucidations. Nepal’s diplomatic relations with China and the opening of the Kodari Highway—the first land route connecting Nepal with China—are unequivocally understood from the cold war geopolitics. But, with China’s increasing presence in South Asia through BRI projects, the lens of a new old order geopolitics is being embraced, which is once again an American discourse, primarily publicized by Fukuyama, Gorbachev, Huntington, Bush, and now Biden. Nepal’s collective imagination vis-à-vis its geographical location between India and China has fueled geopolitical chronicles. King Prithvi Narayan Shah popularized it in the 18th century with the “yam” metaphor, in the tradition of imperialist geopolitics, and the subsequent generations glossed the same militaristic approach to Nepal’s geography. Relentless geopolitical interpretations of the events and episodes that have taken place between Nepal and India divulge the same. Episodic geopolitical interpretations After identifying the reasons why geopolitics stands at the top, it's germane to survey the evolution of the geopolitical analysis of Nepal-India ties, and to do that let's examine a few episodes starting from the 1950 AD. The geopolitical reading of the Treaty of Peace and Friendship between Nepal and India in 1950 signals the militaristic discourse of national security, which keeps on informing Kathmandu that the provisions of the treaty are restrictive. Although an epistemic community named the Eminent Persons Group (EPG) was constituted in 2016, comprising members from Nepal and India, to analyze the relevance of the treaty in the present context and float recommendations accordingly, the EPG’s report is yet to be made public. With the Chinese occupation of Tibet in 1951, buffer became a catchword in the geopolitical chronicles. While the 1962 Sino-Indian War heightened the importance of balancing strategies for Nepal, the series of Indo-Pak conflicts further deepened the principle of the sphere of influence and the search for comfortable alliances in the region and beyond. The emergence of Bangladesh and the annexation of Sikkim in the 70s reinvented the narratives of threat and reproduced the discourses of state sovereignty and survival. The Zone of Peace proposal introduced by King Birendra was itself a coping strategy in the context of the fall of Sikkim. The 1989 crisis over the renegotiation of trade and transit between Nepal and India was the upshot of the conflict between Nepal’s hedging strategy and India’s sphere of influence policy. India’s twin-pillar approach in the 1990s accommodated King and the political parties in Nepal. While the global war on terror shaped Nepal-India ties through the array of new geopolitics with transnational problems, India’s interest in Nepal’s water was also not free from geopolitical problems. While the increasing role of China in Nepal and South Asia is often narrated through the lens of power and discourse, the political change that Nepal underwent in 2006 is often scrutinized by foregrounding India’s policy of the promotion of democracy in the neighborhood. The Indo-Nepal crisis of 2015 over the promulgation of the Constitution in Nepal was the outcome of the “geopolitics from above,” but ended with the “geopolitics from below”. Geopolitics from above refers to the tension between the power elites in Nepal and India over the issue of the promulgation of the constitution in Nepal, whereas geopolitics from below referred to the role of the people, civil societies, and public intellectuals in ending that conflict. While Chinese President Xi strategized Nepal’s geography during his 2019 visit by pledging to make Nepal a land-linked state, the 2020 map fiascos between Nepal and India triggered claims and counterclaims in the narratives set by military-bureaucratic intellectuals and the dissemination of their thoughts in the social, political and foreign policy spheres of both the countries. New Delhi’s geopolitical reading of China in Nepal offers a way of relating local and regional dynamics to the global system as a whole. Chinese engagement in Nepal is enframed through a variety of dramas, and conflicts, and within a grand strategic perspective of containing the rise of China. But the geopolitical interpretation of the US in Nepal offers the account of strategic convergence between India and the US regarding China. But, until the interests of New Delhi and Washington hadn’t converged over containing the rise of China, India earlier perceived the US’ offer of arms assistance to Nepal in combating terrorism as a threat to India’s security concerns. Militaristic tradition The prevalence and primacy of unceasing geopolitical interpretations in the aforementioned situations make us wonder about the likely alternative narratives. There are accounts of mobility, migration, and matrimonial relations. But they are also hauled into the geopolitical perspective and placed in the popular template of the militarist tradition of state formation and state-making. The representation of Nepal as a “yam” between two “boulders” is in itself a misrepresentation made from the prism of militaristic tradition that disavows the connected histories with both the boulders. In principle, the military’s discourse of “national security” and the “social security” discourses braced by critical thinkers don’t converge.  But, in the Nepali context, endorsing the militaristic tradition of geopolitics has become a daily routine in the realms of statecraft, diplomacy, and foreign policy. When diplomatic briefings are done and foreign policy analyses are manufactured by upholding geopolitical reckonings, a stark divergence in a country’s foreign policy priorities, agendas, approaches, and behavior is inescapable. Thus, in that sense, mere geopolitical interpretation of events, episodes, and instances has done more damage to Nepal-India ties and more benefits to the military-bureaucratic intellectuals in both countries.  After all, geopolitical knowledge is constructed from positions and locations of political, economic, and cultural power and privilege. It focuses more on the action of the power elites and the discourses articulated by them to fulfill their interests. Spawning a suspicious worldview, the (re)generation of doubts is at its heart, and above all, the interests of the political elites supersede the interests of the people. In the name of geopolitical inquiry, the ‘China scare’ has further inflated the discipline of security studies and the codes of containment. After all, the geopolitical readings of the experts and think tanks only endorse a regime’s interest. No surprise that the practice of statecraft has long enjoyed producing its own intellectuals in fulfilling its interests and ambitions. When unbending conservatives and chauvinists are endured in the process of foreign policy making, the geopolitical analysis of any episodes is reduced to the militaristic approach.  Wrapping up The multidimensionality of Nepal-India ties cannot be fully grasped by recurrently espousing the geopolitical lens, which is not an objective and scientific form of knowledge. After all, it is about the knotty operation of discourse and power. While the dearth of alternative narratives in foreign policy interpretation and analysis is perceptible in the existing public discourses, media narratives, and deliberations in the parliaments of both countries, the diffusion of geopolitical readings into the social realms has generated a sense of doubt and suspicions toward each other. Before our worldview turns entirely suspicious and hostile, an anti-geopolitical reading of Nepal-India ties could be initiated, which not only questions the material (ie, economic and military) power of states and resists the narratives of (mis)representation imposed by the political elites, but may also contribute in keeping the multidimensionality intact by dwelling largely on the work and livelihood strategies of Nepalis in India and Indians in Nepal, pilgrimages made in both the countries, the aesthetic of the matrimonial relations, people crossing borders for health, education, and post-death rituals. Bhattarai is the author of the book, “Nepal between China and India: Difficulty of being Neutral” published by Palgrave Macmillan

Have you ever made a choice that you regretted instantly because it didn’t align with how you saw yourself? Say, for instance, saying yes to a party with a friend when you have a work deadline to meet or spending more than your budget for the month. On the contrary, have you ever felt happy or encouraged to make a decision that reassured you of how you want to see or carry yourself? Say, for example, reading ten pages of a book or following a healthy diet. What do you think is common in both these things? Our values. Consciously or unconsciously, most of us make decisions or choices based on our values, i.e., things we consider valuable or important in life. When we don’t, we might feel discouraged, disappointed, surprised, or sometimes even angry at ourselves for not honoring ourselves. If values are so important, how often do we reflect on them or revisit them? If I say I value spending money wisely, but if I’m not tracking my expenses or budgeting my monthly expenditures, does spending money wisely really matter to me? Perhaps not. It's one thing to say that we value something, but it’s a different thing to live by it. Our values reflect in what we do, day in and day out. Unless what we say is aligned with our actions, choices, and habits, it doesn’t matter what we say. Values without translatable acts are just aspirations, and we can’t fulfill our aspirations without working toward them. Values also don’t have to be ambitious or grand. We can even live by one value (possibly more than that) which can help us navigate life when most things might be going wrong. It’s a matter of finding out what we consider valuable and letting them grow through us so that (with the help of our choices) we can become the kind of individuals we want to be and work on our desired identity. Let me share some of my examples for more clarity. I try to make my daily life choices based on six core values: choice, contribution, gratitude, listening, playfulness, and reflection. To exercise choice as a value, I think before saying yes to any pursuit or request. I’m also conscious of giving space to people to exercise their choices and not demand what they wouldn’t enjoy doing for me. I love contributing (to the people around me) anything, in any way, and that has helped me become a better version of myself and live my life more meaningfully. It could be facilitating sessions, sharing helpful posts on my Instagram stories or Twitter feed, or recommending a book that impacted me positively. I exercise gratitude when I thank people in my life sincerely for their time, efforts, and company. While gratitude may signal formality for many, for me, it’s a core value that helps me cherish my relationships with people and myself. I value listening by making space for people I’m close to and session participants at my workshops to express themselves vulnerably. Playfulness is another non-negotiable value that helps me anchor myself, find joy in everyday things and spark fun and connection in my relationships. I often make jokes and act silly with people I love. Reflection is a value that I try to incorporate in almost everything I do—such as journaling about my day, having a conversation with a loved one, making a life decision, trying to solve a problem I encounter, or developing a session. A great way to find out and reevaluate our values is to reflect on the kind of people we want to be. Instead of trying to nail a clear set of values straight on, we might want to begin by asking ourselves some reflective questions. Here are some questions that help me gather my thoughts and reflect on my values. For what am I grateful? Where does my attention get drawn quickly? What can I not function without? To what do I enjoy dedicating my time? What do I appreciate in the people around me? In what am I mostly involved? What gives me the energy to carry on with my day? What kind of relationships do I cherish the most? What is it that I can’t separate from my identity? What gives me joy? What adds value to my life? What do I consider worth struggling for? What’s my go-to? What gives my life meaning? We can always find sustainable ways to live by our values. To do so, we must figure out what we consider valuable first. When we start questioning ourselves, we start evaluating where we stand at present, whether our choices are helping or hurting us, and how the things we value today will shape our tomorrow. We might not find the answers right away but perhaps we can arrive at better questions. As Nancy Willard says, “Answers are closed rooms, and questions are open doors that invite us.” So, let’s reflect. Let’s ask ourselves some meaningful questions to find out what we value and understand how our choices can be embedded in them. The author is the linchpin at My Emotions Matter, an education initiative that helps individuals and teams learn the mindset and skills of Emotional Intelligence. You can learn more at myemotionsmatter.com

Cooped up at home for weeks, I and my cycling mate Shishir decided to embark on a long ride to Melamchi. Bearing in mind the sudden flare-up of Covid-19 in Kathmandu, Shishir proposed an ingenious plan—bike-packing. It meant skipping hotels, sleeping in a tent, and cooking our meals for the evening. The route we chose was the Sankhu-Jaharsingh Pauwa. The weather was favorable. But it soon got a tad warm for comfort as we huffed up several steep climbs after Gokarna. The Sankhu road, since my last visit five years ago, had improved and widened, but some sections still begged completion. Like the good old days, the sweeping expanses of rice fields clung to the sprawling Manohara banks; the river still looked virgin. Today, it is a different story altogether. The Manohara banks in the urban sprawl crawl with houses, factories, slums and mountains of trash. Oddly, the lush forested hills of Telkot appeared well-preserved and denser. In a little over two hours, we arrived at Sankhu. We pedaled smack through the heart of the old city—rather, what remained of it. Concrete structures had replaced the traditional red-brick and tile-roofed houses—the last vestiges of the ancient Newar settlement, also called Shankharapur, for being shaped like a Sankha (conch). As we headed out to Lapsifedi, the burbling Shali Nadi, next to the road, tumbled and weaved over rocks and through massive boulders, winding down south across terraced rice fields, almost ready for harvesting and flowering mustard. The lush forested hills soared high to both the east and the north. After Lapsifedi, we struck off to Jaharsingh Pauwa, an eight-kilometer grueling climb across thinning habitation and a beautiful temperate broadleaved forest. In about two hours, we reached Jaharsing Pauwa (pauwa translates to a resting place). Amidst many eateries that lined the town square, we ducked into an empty one, with the owner, a woman, and her son (sans masks) as the only occupants. We went for dal-bhat. Starved, we ate like pigs. Following a good fill and a brief rest, we hit the dirt road that headed north to Nangle. The east ran to Kattike Bhanjhyang and Nagarkot. Jaharsing Pauwa (1,792m) cradled a ridge that dropped in the east to a deep, narrow valley with terraced rice fields, rising again to the forested hills of Nagarkot. Downhill riding is fun, but it has its downsides, too. The constant bucking on the uneven, pitted off-road made my arms ache. After a three-hour free-wheeling downhill, we arrived at the highway town, Bahune Pati. Following some refreshments, we left for Melamchi. In the distance, down a ridge to our right, we could see the blue waters of Indrawati. The meandering river kept us company from thereon. The piddling six km to Melamchi Pul (bridge) bazaar seemed like infinity. Darkness closed in, and we switched on the lights; my cyclometer logged the distance of 65 km. Things can get trickier after dark. Done with shopping for rice, dal, and vegetables for supper, Shishir seemed disoriented about the route to the riverside. After 15 minutes of drifting around aimlessly, we ran into a local chap, who helped us with the direction. We had to cross a suspension bridge over the Melamchi River to a small settlement called Dobhantar. After another 20 minutes of fumbling down a darkened slope, Shishir stopped. The river seemed close, as it sounded louder. We had made it to the campsite. A little downriver, Melamchi met the larger, snow-fed Indrawati. It took me by surprise as I looked up. We were right under the hanging bridge we had just crossed, outlined in the darkness against the sky. Melamchi rushed by at a spitting distance, the interminable rumble quite pronounced. We had our jobs designated. Within a half-hour, Shshir had the tent pitched and finished fetching water from the river. I set up the kitchen and the saucepan on the portable stove with a mix of rice and dal khichadi. I buried myself then in chopping potatoes and cabbage for the curry. After the khichadi, I set a pan on the stove and began sautéing the potatoes and onions. Then disaster struck! I was about to stir the vegetable when the pan tipped and flipped face down flat on the sandy turf. I froze, and so did Shishir. There goes our curry, I said, and swore like mad. Seconds elapsed before I sprang into action—scooped up the spilled lot, tossed it into a pot, and asked Shishir to pour water to rinse it. After a thorough job, I re-sauteed it and added the chopped cabbage—mighty sure the curry would be gritty and pathetic. You’ll never guess! The curry could not have tasted better without the slightest hint of sand! Shishir and I doubled up with laughter until our bellies ached. Melamchi joined in with a profound resonance. [email protected]

Have you ever had a deadline approaching, but instead of completing your work, you binged on a Netflix series for hours? Did you ever resolve to patch up with a friend after an argument but ignore them instead because you thought, “why should I be the one to call first?” Did you ever want to start a personal project you were rather passionate about but could never bring yourself to begin working on it out of fear of people’s invalidation or possible judgments? In all these situations, you may experience a barrage of unpleasant emotions like frustration, panic, sadness, disappointment, hurt, anger, and regret, among others. These emotions, if unmanaged, can make things worse. So, what should we do then? Having three fundamental principles in mind can help us identify, manage, and understand our emotions. Principle #1: At any moment, we’re trying to meet universal, all-inclusive needs (for example, needs like physical safety, emotional support, respect, peace, learning, contribution, etc.). Principle #2: Our emotions hint whether those needs are met or unmet (for example, anger, disgust, joy, calmness, frustration, relief, etc.). Principle #3: Everything we do with our actions (our body) is an attempt to meet our underlying needs (for example, talking, remaining silent, eating, running, etc.). An understanding we can derive from these principles is that all actions, no matter what, or even inactions, are attempts to meet needs. Whether we fulfill those needs or not, we will know by the emotion we feel at any moment. For example, if we feel angry at ourselves for watching Netflix instead of completing work in face of an approaching deadline, we might feel frustrated or even panic-stricken. These emotions indicate that even though watching Netflix may have helped fulfill our needs for entertainment and refreshment, our needs for order, punctuality, and contribution remain unfulfilled. Most of the time, instead of addressing our feelings (especially when we experience unpleasant ones) and identifying the underlying needs behind those feelings, we either go numb or act out, which are unhealthy mechanisms to deal with our emotions. Ranjitha Jeurkar, a Bangalore-based Nonviolent Communication Trainer, explains what we can do instead, with the help of an analogy: When the lights [in your car dashboard] blink, you don’t shut off the lights. It’s a clue for you to look for something else in the car that needs your attention. For instance, if your fuel [indicator] is lit—that [tells] your tank is nearing empty, and your car needs more fuel. It’s a very similar [case] with our feelings. Instead of rushing to shut them down [especially unpleasant feelings], we can pause for a moment and try and look at what needs our feelings [tell] us about. The problem isn’t our feelings. They are indicators of something else [which] is working or not working within us [which are our needs]. When we fail to see the relationship between our needs, emotions, and actions, what we do is often contrary to what we need. Let’s consider a few examples. We need clarity when learning something new, but we remain silent when the teacher/facilitator asks if we have a question. We want people to hear and understand us, but we shout at them to convey this. We want to build confidence but choose not to speak up in team discussions. We long for connection but refrain from reaching out first. We need rest, but we end up browsing our social media feeds for two hours at bedtime. Do any of these examples resonate with you? Think of a recent time when you tried to meet one or more of your needs through a particular action. Did that action take you closer to attaining your need or away from it? Emotional Intelligence is being smarter with feelings. If we are aware of our needs, we give ourselves a better shot at meeting those needs. And a helpful way to meet those needs is to identify what those needs are. The first step toward that is to be aware of our feelings. When we react blindly to our emotional states (by trying to chase pleasant emotions and run away from unpleasant ones), we might take hurtful actions instead of helpful ones. A simple framework to make sure we are not hurting our chances of meeting our needs is to think in terms of the ABC checkpoints, which are: Avoiding: Are we avoiding taking responsibility to meet our needs? Blaming: Are we blaming ourselves or others instead of working to meet our needs? Complaining: Are we looking to justify ourselves rather than seeking a solution for our needs? Avoiding, blaming, and complaining are a few indicators of unmet needs but suboptimal strategies to meet those very needs. So, try to ask yourself often: How am I feeling? What needs are those feelings indicating? What action(s) would help? The author is the linchpin at My Emotions Matter, an education initiative that helps individuals and teams learn the mindset and skills of Emotional Intelligence. You can learn more at myemotionsmatter.com