The Hand recalls his first brush with protest in the kingdom, way back when crossing New Road was simple. Nepal Bank's staff was on duty as usual, but fountain pens lay neatly on the desks and ledgers were firmly closed. Due to a grievance with management, I was politely informed, a 'Pen Down' strike was in effect.

It's been downhill ever since. Nepal Banda, Chakka Jam, Julus, Nakka Banda, shoot-on-sight curfews, and school closures ad nauseum are now so entrenched in the national psyche, they are considered normal. Demonstrators and police throwing bricks at each other is now a national sport, and self-righteous anger the latest intoxicant of choice.

Jana Andolan I and the triumph of democracy in 1990 was the last time any of this made sense. Protest had the people's support, hope for a better future seemed justified, and the party leaders were yet to squander their prestige. (Hard to imagine now, I know.) The unity of purpose was thrilling; surely no cause since then can be termed truly popular.

The ensuing parade of minority governments introduced the nation to protest as farce. Politicians in power one day were manning barricades the next, causing many of us to lose track of who was calling or thwarting the endless series of bandas. Callous disregard for working people and their need to support their families led to cynicism and disillusionment, as the trust invested in our once-heroic leaders was wantonly betrayed. That very few still supported these absurd antics didn't deter the parties, who hired busloads of villagers at Rs 100 a head to yell slogans in the capital. As the demonstrations grew more stage-managed and less meaningful, several low points stand out in the collective memory.

An alarming fusion of tackiness and menace was fashioned when a false report in an obscure newspaper brought Bollywood onto the scene. An actor's purported dissing of Nepal saw an explosion of unprecedented lunacy, adding another fear to our growing repertoire of concerns. The havoc wreaked during these 'Hrithik Roshan' riots was so obviously manipulated by agents provocateurs, with a cast of goondas on call, it became painfully clear civil breakdown was only a misquote away. In a nation at war, any disruption to society was a tactical victory; the chance to target Indians and their businesses was simply the gravy.

The tragic murder of innocent Nepali workers in Iraq set off another shocking explosion. The news broke in the night, allowing plenty of time for orchestrating a riot next morning. Burning tyres, appearing at key intersections like clockwork, brought the city to a standstill as organised mobs plundered employment agencies and attacked anything associated with Islam. The sight of computers and office furniture tossed out of windows as the crowd went wild added low comedy to a display already surreal, while illustrating that any of us could be the next scapegoat.

When the mob vandalised mosques, shattering a timeless tradition of tolerance, they disgraced the entire country. The Hand was surely not alone in realising that society had been hijacked by those without shame or scruples.

Detailing the multitude of protests unleashed on the citizens would be as tiresome as the events themselves. But we all have our favourites, certain riots that evoke the fin-de-siecle spirit of collapse more poetically than most. The Hand's current choice broke out when the school board detected leaked examination papers just before a major test. The students rose up as one to defend their inherent right to cheat, breaking furniture and ransacking the principle's office to convey their point.

To protest is a human right, but it loses validity when manipulated by cynical politicians whose sole agenda is gaining access to the troughs of power and money. The scheming politicisation of everything has left little that is sacred, and made a mockery of the people's valid aspirations for a better life.