SUGA (Mahottari District) - Here in the rural tarai, life is languid and everyday concerns are mundane. Not the weighty national preoccupations of Kathmandu, the issue here is the rain, too little or too much. Suga farmers don't remember the when rains were last so erratic. There was less rain than normal, but the floods were more damaging.

The explanation, however, is simple. There is a hectic bund building spree downstream in Bihar. The ill-designed embankments cause ponding upstream, submerging rice paddies north of the border in Nepal. But Mahottari's inundation is unlikely to come up during this week's submergence talks between Indian and Nepali officials. We are too far away here from Kathmandu and New Delhi. All the more reason, therefore, for the Nepali and Indian villagers on either side of the border to start working more closely together.

So here I am, basking in the warmth of home with the scent of parijat wafting in the balmy breeze. By afternoon, the autumn sun turns the water buffalos into dry clay cakes. In the evening, the blue smoke of cowdung patties rises from the huts, and the smell takes you back to childhood. The nights are cool, and people sleep under the twinkling stars.

At least, they used to. One of the features of village life that has changed with the rise of Maoism is that people don't sleep outdoors anymore. Despite this year's floods, agricultural prospects look fairly good. Encouraged by the quota access to the European market for Nepali sugar, many farmers have diversified into sugarcane plantation. This year's harvests look promising. Progressive farmers have already started harvesting taichin, the small-stemmed Chinese rice. Mansuli, the staple rice plant of traditional farmers, is yet to ripen. Connoisseurs cultivate Basmati, and that hasn't done all that well this year as the first transplantation was completely washed away by floods.

To check my email, I have to travel to Janakapur in a 20-year old Tata tin-box that splutters its way up for nearly an hour before completing its journey of about 15 km. There is a goat at my knees and a chicken pecking on my shoulder while I try to hold on to the roof to prevent myself from falling off.

It's not easy to discuss the state of the state with fellow passengers in such a situation. But it is possible. The impossible is routine here with pan-chewing Maithils discussing the election politics of Pakistan as if they had inside information about the intentions of General Musharraf. Blame the Bibi.

Sadly, Nepali democracy seems to be dead on arrival. A Muslim entrepreneur from my village who claims to own a bakery in Attaria in the far-west Nepal thinks Sher Bahdur Deuba killed democracy in the country the day he decided to extend the state of emergency by dissolving the Pratinidhi Sabha and bypassing the Rastriya Sabha. Since then, political parties have been carrying the corpse of dead democracy on their shoulders, hoping against hope that it could somehow be resurrected.

The king was apparently fed up with democratic decay, and he performed the last rites through the royal proclamation last Friday. Suddenly, reality seems to have hit all political leaders, who have now begun to grieve at the loss. There is no way that the constitution can now be revived when the king feels that it was royal benevolence that brought the 1990 constitution. His avowed commitment to the multiparty system is an important point, but even more distinct is the way he has chosen to negate the sovereignty of the people.

And that is exactly the message that the Panchayat veterans seem to have got as they crawl out of woodwork. They have been emboldened by the tone and tenor of royal proclamation. There is new swagger in their steps. When Marich Man gets to see the king twice in a week, the Mandales get the message.

Fear of the return of Panchayat-style administration hangs heavy in the air here in the tarai. Mahottari and Dhanusa are in the region that suffered most from state oppression during the Panchayat years. Damodar Sumshere began from the Anchaladhis Niwas of Jaleswor, a palace originally built by Ram Sumshere. The killers of Saroj Koirala operated out of the very same intrigue-laden house. Durga Nand Jha, the first martyr during the Panchayat regime, came from Dhanusa, as did Laxmi Kant Jha, the physcian who was made to disappear without a trace for his commitment to pluralism.

Caught between the looming devil of authoritarianism and the deep blue sea of Maoism, uncertainly is writ large on the faces of university teachers at Janakapur Campus, once the cradle of the democratic struggle. But by and large, people seem to be resigned to their fate. The Maoist insurgency has sapped all the energy of the political class.

Only time will tell whether the king's new cabinet will restore democracy, or just bring back greed. But one thing is sure, no tears are being shed for the departure of Sher Bahadur Deuba.

Mahottari has habitually sent Nepali Congress nominees as all its MPs, and the overwhelming feeling here is that he more than deserved the royal kick that he got. However, the sad reality is that it happened only after he had successfully demolished our hard-won freedoms. Perhaps that is the price this country has to pay for the error of judgement of the Maoists, all the major political parties, the media as well as the intelligentsia. Now, all we can do is wait for the rebirth of our democracy. Or, maybe, struggle for it all over again.