Chair Too Comfortable?

Everything we know has an expiry date.

The milk in your fridge. The medicine in your cabinet. Even the careers of the dedicated, everyday people who keep this country running. At 58, a government employee is handed a 'thank you for your service' and politely informed their professional life is over.

But then, there are our politicians. They seem to be operating on a different cosmic calendar, because they retire when their hearts do, and sometimes not even then.

Which brings us to some serious questions:

How did they hack the system? 

What’s the secret ingredient that makes them immune to the one rule that applies to everyone else?

Today, let’s take a walk through this strange little paradox, where bureaucrats are ushered out the door, and politicians are allowed to superglue themselves to the chair, until they become a permanent part of the furniture itself.

The Rulebook Nobody Reads (Unless You’re a Civil Servant)

In the world of government employees, the rules are strict and very concrete. You turn 58? That's it. Time to go. Even if you're at your professional peak, even if you're doing an excellent job, the system taps you on the shoulder and says, “Thanks for your service. Now kindly step aside.”

And it doesn’t stop there. If you’ve held a high-ranking post, you often have to wait out a “cooling-off” period; basically, a buffer zone so you don’t immediately join another post where your old contacts or insider knowledge could give you an unfair advantage. It’s designed to keep things ethical and balanced.

But politics?

That rulebook might as well be written in disappearing ink. Age limits, term limits, cooling-off periods, none of it seems to apply.

When Power Has No Expiry Date

Politicians, on the other hand, operate on what we can only assume is a metaphysical timeline. There’s no retirement age. Once you’re in, you're in. And staying in becomes the ultimate goal, sometimes more than governing itself.

For years, we watched the CPN-UML play a cute game with its own rules. They had this progressive-sounding 70-year age cap for leadership positions, until, of course, KP Sharma Oli turned 70 and the rule was suddenly treated like more of a gentle suggestion.

Then, in the most spectacular, almost poetic turn of events, UML officially removed both the 70-year age cap, as well as the two-term limit for top posts. We expected them to bend the rule, maybe twist it a little, but they went ahead and threw it out the window entirely.

After a marathon 10-hour meeting (presumably to make sure everyone understood that "forever" means forever), they made political immortality the new party policy.

India’s 75 Rule: Hanging On with Grace

Now, let’s hop over the border to India, where they prefer a little more finesse with their political hypocrisy. The ruling BJP has its own rule, a self-imposed 75-year speed limit for its top leaders. On paper, it’s a noble idea, right? pass the torch, and make way for new blood.

But then there’s the Modi-sized problem. This September, PM Narendra Modi turns 75.

So, will the party that created the rule actually enforce it on its biggest star? Will the rules apply to Modi just as much as they did to Lal Krishna Advani and Murli Manohar Joshi? Don't hold your breath. Get ready for a masterclass in political yoga. We’ll hear about how the rule was more of a "guideline," how "indispensable" leaders are a special exception, or some other feat of intellectual gymnastics designed to justify the obvious: rules don’t apply when you’re winning elections. They will bend, stretch, and contort their own policy until it says whatever they need it to say.

Which, in a strange way, makes the CPN-UML’s approach seem almost refreshingly honest. They didn't even bother with the spin. They just took their rulebook, tore out the page, and set it on fire. You almost have to admire their honesty, if not anything.

But Why Does This Happen?

So, what's the secret sauce here? Why is our political landscape a retirement-free zone where leaders cling on for dear life? 

The answer is actually pretty simple, and kind of sad.

In a saner world, the path to politics often looks like this: you get an education, you build a career, you become an expert in your field; a lawyer, an economist, a doctor, a business owner. Then, once you've made your mark and feel like giving back, you jump into public service with a strong agenda. If it works out, great. If not, you've got a life to go back to.

But back here, Politics is the career.

In Nepal, it’s what you do when you’ve got nothing else lined up. When no one's offering you a job, when your degree is optional, and your only marketable skill is shouting into a mic at a political rally.

A lot of our political lifers (with all due respect) probably wouldn’t qualify to teach at a kindergarten. Their most prized credential being “I spent 14 years in jail.”

And yes, that’s a sacrifice. But is it a substitute for governance? Does it mean you’re qualified to run a ministry, draft policy, or manage a national budget?

That’s the root of it.

The Problem with Having No Plan B

Now, imagine you’ve spent your entire adult life in politics. You’ve never worked a job outside your party. Your resume consists entirely of protests, campaigns, and party conventions.

So, what do you do when it’s time to step aside?

For most politicians, the idea of retirement is actually more terrifying than it is inconvenient. If politics is your only skill set, then leaving is the end of your income, your status, and the only thing you've ever done. “End of a career” is the last bit of concern here.

So in that context, you can see why clinging to power is actually a survival strategy for most.

Meanwhile, in a Parallel Universe

Compare that to what’s happening in other democracies.

When Rishi Sunak lost the UK general election, he didn’t try to “Bidhya Devi Bhandari” his way back. He gracefully stepped down, and reports now suggest he’s heading into the world of finance. Without any drama, without any tantrums, he simply moved on to the next chapter of his life.

Jacinda Ardern, the former Prime Minister of New Zealand, famously left office saying she simply didn’t have “enough in the tank.” She was praised for recognizing that leadership requires energy, and for knowing when to walk away. She was just 37 when she took office and resigned at 42. Rishi Sunak was 44 when he stepped down.

And remember: these are leaders, who, with their political capital, could have easily clung to the opposition benches for another decade, plotting comebacks and haunting their successors. They had all the recognition and the support to stay in the fight.

But they chose not to.

You see the stark difference? they didn’t lose their purpose outside of politics. Unlike ours, they had careers before public life and pathways after it. That freedom allowed them to see political power as just another chapter of their life, and not something to cling on to.

Back To Nepal…

Nothing illustrates this better than the curious case of former President Bidhya Devi Bhandari. After two terms of living the high life at Shital Niwas, she’s apparently found retirement to be a bit of a snooze fest and decided she wants back in on the action.

And you’d think her timing was impeccable, right? Her old party, the CPN-UML, had just thrown a massive bonfire and tossed their entire rulebook into the flames. "No age limits! No term limits! Come one, come all!" It was supposed to be a free-for-all.

Well, for the plot twist, it wasn't.

What If We Actually Meant It?

Let’s imagine for a second: what if politics wasn’t a forever job?

What if we had actual, enforceable age limits in political parties? What if, after two terms, politicians stepped aside to let others lead? What if leadership was viewed as a responsibility to be fulfilled, not a status to be preserved?

Nepal is a young country, demographically speaking. The median age is around 25. Yet the people who represent us are often in their 60s, 70s, or beyond. And while age does bring experience, it can’t substitute for fresh ideas, digital literacy, or an understanding of what it's like to grow up in a world where the internet exists.

Younger politicians bring perspective, they bring youthful energy back into the system. And unless we make space for them, the system will keep cycling the same few faces with different titles; just like how Congress, UML, and Maoists have been playing musical chairs for the past two decades.

The Final Thought

Why is retirement seen as an exile, when it is simply part of a healthy system? It creates room for the next generation to rise, while allowing the former generation to guide, advise, or simply rest.

So the question here, is not: should politicians retire?

It is: why are they the only ones who don’t?

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Until next time,
Stay grounded. Stay global.
— Team Nepali Dias