King Gyanendra this Dasain had a poignant message to the nation. It was reassuring to hear him reaffirm his commitment to the constitution, but it was oddly unsettling to see that he felt it necessary to do so. He belaboured the obvious. Perhaps the real meaning of the message is a thumb down to the Maoists. The king appeared to be telling Comrade Prachanda directly: a) no national government, b) no constituent assembly, and, c) forget about your republic in our kingdom. In effect, the king has ruled out any major revision in the fundamental law of the land.

This is as it should be. The Constitution of Kingdom of Nepal 1990 has stood us in good stead over a period of tumultuous events in national politics. We have held three parliamentary elections and two for local governments. Five national elections-successfully completed and declared to be largely fair and impartial by international observers-should be proof enough, if at all any was needed, that Nepal hasn't needed a neutral caretaker government of the Bangladesh model to conduct its polls. Our Election Commission is robust, and it is capable of keeping the partisan attitude of the government of the day in check.

This has also been a period when Nepal faced the most brutal insurgency in its history. At one point, in the aftermath of Hrithik Roshan riots, it appeared as if the country would have to compromise its integrity in order to save it from itself. But it was the maturity that democracy has nurtured that helped us overcome our collective insanity. All-party rallies for communal harmony proved once again that multi-party democracy may be raucous, but in the end, it works. In a multi-cultural society, it's either democracy or disintegration.

When the entire nuclear family of King Birendra was wiped out in the royal massacre of 1 June, the constitution faced a challenge that has no parallel anywhere in the world. We Nepalis love to wallow in self-pity and we lack the self-confidence to accept credit for our accomplishments, but let's face it-it is nothing short of a sociological miracle that citizens of a struggling democracy faced a crisis of this unprecedented magnitude with such stoic fortitude. Not that an exact comparison is necessary, or even possible, but it helps to remember that the entire political elite of the country was replaced in the aftermath of Kot Parba of 14 September, 1846, in our own country. In neighbouring India, New Delhi plunged into the savagery of communal carnage when Indira Gandhi was shot dead by her own bodyguards on 31 October, 1984. For all its flaws, it is the constitution that prevented anarchy from erupting even in the face of a crisis of unimaginable proportions.

The logic that the constitution needs to be amended to ensure stability does not hold water. The main concern should be the stability of the system, not the longevity of a particular government. The explanation that we are too poor to have frequent elections is like accepting that we are too impoverished to afford democracy. This can then be extended further to say that we don't deserve to be even independent. Those who talk of a fixed tenure for the legislature or a constructive vote of confidence fail to realise that it isn't possible to tinker with the parts of the system without affecting the fundamental structure of the whole. To solve the problem of revolving door governments and frequent elections, it is not necessary to virtually contract out the system for a fixed period to a group of legislators.

No one understands the convolutions of the Constitution of Kingdom of Nepal 1990 better than the man who successfully \'convinced' the king and made him accept in the preamble that "the source of sovereign authority of the independent and sovereign Nepal is inherent in the people"-former prime minister Krishna Prasad Bhattarai. When he says that there is no need to fix things that aren't wrong, we better listen. It is tempting to fiddle with a perfectly functioning machine when you have nothing better to do, but it is wise to hold the hammer and resist the temptation to hit where it can only hurt.

That said, it needs to be accepted that certain aberrations have crept into the constitution due to contradictory interpretations of its provisions. The court once ruled that the prime minister could not go to the people if and when he wanted to. This has severely limited his options. It is this serious undermining of the prime minister's prerogative that has made him hostage to the threats of legislators of his own party. It has led to a ludicrous situation where a prime minister can become a ball to be thrown around between the legislature, the court and the palace.

The other aberration-the belittling of the authority of local government units-also owes its origin not to the constitution, but its interpretation. By declaring that the Dhanusha District Development Committee and Rajbiraj Municipality weren't free to use the national language of their choice, the court dealt a bigger blow to their autonomy than merely denying them their mother tongue. Implicit in the ruling is another meaning: in the interpretation of our learned judges, the constitution is unitary in character, and brooks no interference from local governments for autonomy. If this indeed is the reality, then it has to change. In the postmodern world, all politics is local. Denying legally constituted local government units their rights can lead to unconstitutional forms of protests.

Krishna Prasad Bhattarai's assertion that the constitution doesn't need to be changed should not be interpreted to mean that it doesn't need improvements. It is in the nature of all things that if they don't change, atrophy sets in. Unfortunately, instead of being at the cutting edge of social change, the legal luminaries of Nepal limp helplessly behind it, dragged down on by the polemics of activists like Narahari Acharya and Govinda Neupane. Consequently, not even a credible agenda for discussion has emerged over last ten years to contemplate the constitution as a framework of discourse between the nationalities that make up the kingdom of Nepal.

But fortunately, we still have in our midst most of those who helped frame and enact the present constitution. As we enter the twelfth year of a resilient constitution, it would be a salute to democracy to form a high-level committee to review our experiences and suggest improvements to reflect the new realities of our society. To suggest that the fundamental law is not dynamic enough to incorporate the aspirations of a new generation of Nepalis who have come of age after 1990 is blasphemy. A constitution that has endured so much can't be static.

Nepal still holds the potential of becoming a model of social democracy in South Asia. But for that to happen, we need to have more faith in our own capabilities.