At a time when the need for peace in this country has never been greater, the word's worth has been devalued by empty lip service paid to it by insincere people.

Coalition partners in government are falling over each other pretending to be peaceniks. The UML which has staked all on crafting a truce is goading its ministers in the cabinet to call for a unilateral ceasefire. It knows fully well it won't happen, and repeating it is a fig leaf. The prime minister has made clucking noises, but he knows his decision-making powers are severely limited on security matters. (That was the pound of flesh he paid to get himself appointed chief executive in June.) The NC-led opposition alliance is trying ever so hard to re-align its street mischief to pressure the government to get serious about peace, but everyone knows the only peace process it will support is one in which it is involved.

The Maoists are bombarding the government with statements, online interviews, and rapid-fire rhetorical questions. But how can they be taken seriously when they ambush vehicles carrying international activists campaigning for peasants' rights, or kidnapping UNICEF workers and bombing hosptials while calling for UN mediation?

One could say that even if the calls for peace are hollow, at least it proves the powers-that-be respect public opinion that totally rejects a prolongation of the conflict. But they should stop playing games and get down to real peace-building. The Nepali people hear the sound of knives being sharpened, and will not tolerate warmongers.

The only one who is not saying anything at all is King Gyanendra. He has maintained an enigmatic silence and seems happy enough to let the prime minister stew in his own juice. But two years after he sacked Deuba and four months after he reluctantly brought him back, the king is in a dilemma. If he acts, he will be accused again of having absolutist ambitions. If he doesn't, the country will slide further.

In October 2002, after he used Article 127 to take over, we gave King Gyanendra's move the benefit of doubt in this space, but cautioned: 'The king has gambled his throne on this one. And the act, by its very nature, has dragged the monarchy into the political muck. A constitutional monarchy needs to be above it all, untainted by partisanship and upheld as a symbol of national unity. It is now in danger of being just another political force jostling for power.'

Two years later, this is still true. Under pressure from rebels who want to talk to him and not his 'servants' about a constituent assembly, and from a dogged street agitation to roll back October Fourth, the king is fighting on two fronts too many. But it is clear which side he should be on. However unpalatable and discomfiting, he has to come terms with the people's representatives. And the parties must show they have turned a new leaf by discarding divisiveness and focussing on the nation's real challenge of building peace, and not just talking about it.