Perched on the lap of the Himalayas and sandwiched between two ideologically polarised giants - China and India - the home of Mt. Everest, Nepal has melted into a violent showdown between the public and the police, the kingdom and the opposition political parties, and insurgent Maoists and Royal Nepalese Army forces ripping the country's democratic fabric to shreds. The countrywide unrest sprang from widespread desperation for a restoration of democracy and was aimed at quashing King Gyanendra's rule, which had retrograded from inefficiency to autocracy.

When a massive rally was planned for the 25th April, Gyanedra was forced to choose between crushing the unarmed protestors - risking further international outrage - and witnessing the palace razed to the ground by popular anger. The King agreed to reinstate the national parliament, dissolved four years earlier, and forge peace with Maoist rebels; and offered condolences to the families of 15 protestors shot dead during a three-week mass demonstration against his rule. Democracy had been secured a breathing space - or so it appears for the time being.

Before peace returned to the streets of Nepal, ordinary Nepalese and opposition political parties clamoured for the restoration of democracy, while the perky Maoist (Communist Party of Nepal) rebels smelt blood: they saw that the time had come to assert their power on the country's political landscape. Between them stood King Gyanendra, to whom the crown had passed in 2001, when the heir to the throne, Prince Dipendra, went berserk, shot himself and most members of his family to death. Gyanendra, who had long been a low-profile royal, assumed the mantle of King the following year.

No sooner had Gyanendra grasped power in October 2002 than he ousted a succession of Prime Ministers (who themselves were busy bickering over power, neglecting the populace and indulging corruption). Since Nepal became a parliamentary democracy in 1990, it has had 14 prime ministers. As this game of political musical chairs was played out, the Maoist rebels were building a violent sub-state; blasting a landmine here, extorting people there and intimidating the country elsewhere. When Gyanendra vowed to curb Maoist guerrillas, weed out corruption and take the country forward, ordinary Nepalese welcomed his ascendancy as a silver lining among dark clouds.

The silver lining proved to be more mirage than miracle. The Maoist rebels remained as brutal as ever. Corruption and royal sycophancy permeated Nepali politics. The nation regressed further. Gyanendra reneged on his promise. He unleashed a cascade of human rights abuses, pounding individual freedom and rights to dust. Abuses ranged from the pre-emptive arrest of opposition politicians to the imposition of curfew orders and even the cutting off mobile phone services. Soldiers dotted Nepal's roads and streets, its nooks and crannies.

In February 2006, to international scorn, King Gyanendra called for an election under the pretext of restoring democracy. It was promptly shunned by the opposition SPA (a coalition of seven political parties), which argued that elections would be impossible in the face of the Maoist insurgency. They saw the call for elections as an attempt by the King to legitimise his autocracy, divert international opinion and marginalise political opposition. The hollowness of a melodrama characterised the election. A measly 20 per cent of the electorate trickled into polling booths to cast their votes. A majority of the voters were civil servants and soldiers who had no choice other than to vote, under strict government orders. Almost all the winning candidates had royal affiliations.

Has democracy finally dawned?

Recent developments could not have come at a better time for the Maoists. They have entered into an alliance with the SPA, thereby acquiring political legitimacy, and moving against the grain of a legacy of brutal insurgency. Between the killings of the Maoists and the excesses of the Nepalese security forces, 12,000 live have been lost. Now that the King has receded, Maoists have called a three-month ceasefire; public anger has been quelled; and Girija Prasad Koirala, at the age of 84, has become Prime Minister for the fifth time. Democracy seems finally to have dawned.

The construct may or may not endure. The Nepali public have time and again been promised utopia, and time and again been disappointed. Nepal's first multi-party elections were held in 1959, only for the parliament to be dissolved and constitution revoked by the monarchy the very next year. A cohort of opposition political parties and members of the public held nationwide demonstrations in 1990, demanding a restoration of democracy but divisiveness, indiscipline, political infighting, factionalism and malfeasance undermined their unity. The 2006 protests were staged for the same cause - restoration of democracy - and unsurprisingly, uncertainty remains. The political landscape in the Himalayan kingdom is still defined more by vested interests than common interests.

Some crucial questions remain unanswered. What role do the citizens of Nepal envisage their king? For more than two centuries, the country has identified itself with Kingdom. The King is still revered as an incarnation of the Hindu God Vishnu by the older generation; and like Vishnu, he has been a symbol national unity and identity. Even younger Nepalese find it difficult to imagine their country shorn of its monarchy. Others who once equated their King with divinity are now hell-bent on stripping him of his powers. The Maoists currently wear a mask of decency, despite their despicable record of torture, violence and murder. The politicians, too, seem earnest in their intentions; but will they do away with the factional infighting that so often invited the interference of the royals? The King has reluctantly restored parliament, but retains political leverage. Private tensions whirl under a surface of calmness.

The difference between a government that pretends to care and the government that really cares is the difference between lightning-bug and lightning. King Gyanendra stated that he wanted to put the country in order and save it from Maoists and politicians. Over time, he proved no better than those two factions. The Nepalese have suffered immensely through a combination of the irresponsibility of politicians, the insensitivity of the royals and implacability of the Maoists. Democracy depends as much on consent as on compromise, both key attributes only of progressive societies.

The fundamental challenge facing Nepal is the maintenance of law and order (through rule of law, and not enforced the presence of the military), to give time and scope for the powers that be to sort out their differences. Power politics reduced Nepal from a haven of tourism and natural beauty to a jungle of power mongers. The salvation of Nepal will come when politicians cease putting themselves and their party interests before the state; when Maoists unconditionally give up their bullets and start talking through the ballots; and when the royals and their sycophants step away from the political arena.

A state is the sum of its citizens. What Nepal needs is not just another bickering democracy but a functional one that should aim at bringing the army under civilian control, subdue royal power lest future Kings (or Queens) should poke their noses into political administration, and rewrite a working constitution to let the government by majority work with adherence to the rule of law - thus guaranteeing freedom to oppose and dissent, as well as the protection of individual rights and liberties.