Between Inner Friction and State Friction

Between Inner Friction and State Friction

June 20, 2026, I was winding down at this casual event at a Bar, trying to hold the conversation and navigate the crowd. It didn't take that long for that classic icebreaker to hit me:  ‘So, what do you do?’.  I offered a direct, simple response- ‘I am doing a Fellowship at an organization named Daayitwa’. And instantly, the space around me shrank in the best way possible. 

‘Oh, my friend used to work there!, 

‘I literally left the week you guys came.’,

‘I am actually rejoining this coming Monday.’

In a matter of minutes, a casual bar conversation had mapped out an incredibly vibrant interconnected web of shared experiences.  Yet, standing at that bar counter, I could not help but reflect on the tumultuous road it had taken for me to land there.

Just a year prior, having completed my B.A.LL.B. from Kathmandu, I had moved back to my hometown Biratnagar attempting to carve out my professional path. Instead, I watched the rug pulled out from under me overnight when the Gen-Z protest erupted. Being on the ground, I saw firsthand how the nationwide youth protest of September 8 and 9  was centralized: the media, the political narratives were constructed almost entirely within Kathmandu. This realization forced me to come back to Kathmandu. 

And that bar conversation precisely highlighted what had been missing back home: the ecosystem. 

Outside the Valley, the ambition is palpable, but the infrastructure of opportunity feels entirely absent. There are no organic networks that fast-track you into the rooms where decisions are brokered and executed. The system remains so centralized, Kathmandu feels like it maintains a strict monopoly on social capital. The Valley swallows the national discourse so entirely that even major provincial hubs are starved of the dense networks, lifestyle and career growth that define the Valley. 

It left me constantly questioning the true promise of federalism. Is it merely a political arrangement on paper? Shouldn't it be socio-economic? When will we reach a point where someone living outside the valley no longer feels compelled to migrate to Kathmandu just to access basic networks and opportunities?

Diving into this fellowship was a massive gamble. I had just come back and was anxiously searching for a place to land. The process took about two and a half months spanning from the initial application through multiple interview sessions. I had already rejected stable, promising job offers and most people around me thought I was stupid. They questioned my judgement and truth be told, I questioned it too: Why am I doing this? Will it be worth it? It’s just 3 months. Should I just join a law firm instead? 

Yet amidst those self-doubts, I had to constantly remind myself of the reason I chose to return–actively participate in discourse that shaped decision-making.    

Any lingering doubts I had about taking this gamble completely vanished once the Fellowship started. The environment feels incredibly dense and intentional yet reassuringly casual. The day to day sessions, meetings with research mentors and the interaction with government supervisors felt like I was walking directly into the nucleus of power- a point from which I could finally dissect the machinery of our centralized reality and its structural whys. 

Before joining, I was deeply skeptical of the approaches being taken by the newly appointed Balen-led government. But just a month into the fellowship, my entire perspective had already been turned inside out . 

I came into this space with a healthy dose of cynicism- and truth be told, I still do not fully trust the overarching political narrative of this government. From the outside, it's remarkably easy to look at the state apparatus and see nothing but gridlock and stagnation. But as you enter the periphery of Singha Durbar, a different kind of reality check hits you. It genuinely feels like it is moving and is driven by an intense willingness to do something that looks actionable. 

During a visit, I was bluntly told, ‘The government does not want theories; bring us actionable policy recommendations. ‘If the policy feels implementable, this government will execute it  tomorrow’.  That statement from the bureaucracy that traditionally blamed the political leadership for its failure, signaled state mechanisms have changed, there seems to be a radical shift. Even the traditional and rigid bureaucracy has become fast paced and positive. Watching them adapt to this wave of aggressive, fast-paced leadership is interesting. Perhaps it is driven by a primal survival instinct within an increasingly intolerant political climate or perhaps they too finally feel the heat from the restless public? 

But this introduces me to a massive sobering question: where does this government stand when it comes to regional equity? Will this hyper-efficient machinery  actually cater to the needs of the entire country or are we simply watching the system run faster on the exact same centralized loop? 

Singha Durbar has undoubtedly the most invested and equipped government bodies in the entire country. It commands the best staff, the most elite advisors, the finest infrastructure, the latest tech. The fast pace works beautifully within those white walls but will I encounter that same willingness when I go to a distant gaupalika? Can this leadership translate it into those 753 local bodies within Nepal? 

If it cannot, how many citizens actually possess the access required to realize the sentiments of this government? If this efficiency remains confined to Singha Durbar, we are merely witnessing progress, we are simply moving towards a modernized version of the same old exclusion. 

True federalism means that efficiency cannot be just the valley’s luxury. If the system’s willingness is genuine, it has to intentionally ensure that the gears of today's governance do not grind the aspirations of the rest of the country out of the equation entirely.