A few days ago, I was traveling to Pokhara and took a Pathao taxi. The moment I sat down, I felt an urge to ask the driver a question we rarely ask those who serve us daily: “How is your life?”

The driver, Mr. Ekta Singh Tamang from Nuwakot, looked at me with stunned eyes. After a pause, he replied, “No one has ever asked me that question. You are the first person in my life.”

What followed was more than a casual conversation. It was a lens into the lived reality of millions of Nepalis who, despite their relentless labor, remain trapped in a cycle of political corruption, economic neglect, and social indifference. As a sociologist, I could not help but connect his personal struggles with the broader failures of the Nepali state — what C. Wright Mills famously called the intersection of personal troubles and public issues.

A Childhood Born into Stigma

Ekta’s life began under the shadow of social prejudice. His mother, an autistic woman, was never married. As she reached adulthood, a man in her village exploited her vulnerability, leaving her pregnant — a reality she barely comprehended. Though the perpetrator was known, the community remained silent. In Nepal’s deeply patriarchal and morally hypocritical society, the victim is shamed while the violator walks free.

Ekta’s biological father rejected him outright. His mother, unable to care for him, left his upbringing to his maternal grandmother — a woman who, despite poverty, believed fiercely in the transformative power of education. “Education is your weapon,” she told him.

Ekta studied until grade 11, but like countless young Nepalis, the absence of opportunity forced him abroad. He worked in Saudi Arabia and Dubai under harsh conditions, his dreams of a better life built on the back of endless hours of menial labor.

Family, Discipline, and Silent Suffering

Today, Ekta is 43 years old, a man of unwavering discipline. He has never touched alcohol, cigarettes, tea, coffee, or even soft drinks. Yet, despite his clean lifestyle, he battles diabetes and high blood pressure. “Why does God keep punishing me?” he asked with quiet bitterness.

His greatest pride lies in his three daughters — his living legacy of resilience and hope. The eldest is a pharmacist, the second works in England, and the youngest is in college. As he spoke of them, his face lit up, reflecting the truth of his grandmother’s wisdom: education is the only real path to freedom.

But beneath this quiet pride lies a storm of frustration. Ekta owns his taxi — bought at the cost of 4.2 million rupees — yet feels trapped in a system that offers neither dignity nor respect.

We Are Not Criminals

Ekta’s voice grew heavier as he described his daily battles:
“This bloody corrupt government keeps importing vehicles, but where are the roads? Everyone expects us to be professional, but customers treat us like criminals. They think we are here to cheat them, but they have no idea about our struggles.”

He painted a vivid picture of his daily grind:
“In this heat, we drive for hours. We drink water because we are thirsty, but where do we go to pee? If there’s parking, there’s no toilet. If there’s a toilet, there’s no parking. And the traffic police? They treat us just like our customers do — as if we are crooks. What are we supposed to do?”

His anger, however, was not just about logistics; it was political.
“We are the fools. We keep voting for the same rascals — the corrupt politicians who have ruined our lives. They want us to leave Nepal, so they can keep looting without anyone resisting them.”

The Sociological Lens: Ekta as Every Nepali

Ekta’s story is not unique. It is the story of modern Nepal — a country blessed with beauty and resources but paralyzed by governance failure. The state has systematically abandoned its citizens. Roads are crumbling, public transportation is chaotic, and basic amenities like public toilets are luxuries rather than rights.

From a sociological perspective, Ekta’s experience is an example of structural violence — a concept introduced by Johan Galtung to describe harm caused by unjust social structures rather than direct physical violence. Every time Ekta battles poor infrastructure, institutional disrespect, or the stigma of his profession, he is a victim of this invisible violence.

His story also echoes Karl Marx’s notion of alienated labor. Ekta’s hard work provides a vital public service, yet he is denied dignity or recognition. Instead, he is reduced to a faceless driver in a society that equates labor with low social worth.

Political Corruption and the Betrayal of Hope

Ekta’s contempt for politicians is well-founded. Since the abolition of monarchy and the declaration of a republic in 2008, Nepal’s political class has failed to deliver meaningful change. Instead, a political mafia has emerged — leaders who treat public office as a marketplace for personal gain.

Despite billions in remittances and foreign aid, the country remains stuck. Public infrastructure is neglected, healthcare is collapsing, education is increasingly commercialized, and job opportunities are non-existent. As Ekta bitterly remarked, “They want us to leave.” Indeed, migration has become Nepal’s default economic policy — a tragedy where the nation exports its youth and survives on their remittances.

This is more than an economic failure; it is a moral one. When hardworking citizens like Ekta must either migrate or suffer humiliating working conditions at home, the republic becomes a hollow shell of its democratic promises.

Urban Chaos and Everyday Inequality

Ekta’s complaints about toilets and parking might sound trivial, but they expose the deep neglect of urban planning in Nepal. Cities are run like afterthoughts, with no systematic investment in public spaces, transport, or sanitation. Political leaders spend millions on foreign junkets and luxury cars, but the ordinary citizen must navigate daily chaos.

This neglect breeds everyday inequality — a silent yet persistent reminder that the state does not see its people as worthy of care. Taxi drivers like Ekta are not just overworked; they are stigmatized, harassed, and systematically marginalized.

A Voice for the Voiceless

When we reached the airport, I paid Ekta and thanked him. But as I walked away, I realized his voice was not just his own. It was the collective cry of millions of Nepalis betrayed by a republic that promised dignity and delivered neglect.

Democracy without accountability is nothing more than a ritual. It is not enough to hold elections if the same corrupt leaders are recycled every few years. Real democracy must address the everyday struggles of its citizens — from infrastructure and jobs to the respect due to labor.

What Can We Learn from Ekta?

Ekta’s story is both a warning and a call to action. Nepal cannot survive on remittances while ignoring domestic development. We must invest in infrastructure — not only highways and hydropower projects but also the everyday necessities of urban life: clean toilets, functional parking, and reliable public transportation.

We need a cultural revolution that values labor. Taxi drivers, street vendors, sanitation workers — they are not cheats or criminals. They are the lifeline of our cities.

Finally, Ekta’s anger toward politics is a mirror we cannot ignore. Unless Nepal breaks free from the cycle of corrupt leadership, we will remain a republic of broken promises.

Conclusion

Ekta Singh Tamang is more than a taxi driver. He is a symbol of Nepal’s resilience — and its failure. His life reminds us that the true measure of democracy lies not in speeches or elections but in how a nation treats its ordinary citizens.

If Nepal’s leaders truly care about democracy, they must begin by listening to voices like Ekta’s. For it is in the struggles of ordinary people that the soul of a nation — and its future — is revealed.

@with PR