September 2025 may be remembered not only as a moment of political upheaval but also as the beginning of a cultural awakening. For decades, Nepali politics has been synonymous with extravagance. Leaders flaunted power through lavish lifestyle and endless perks, while ordinary citizens struggled with unemployment, inflation and lack of basic services. The message was unmistakable: leadership was privilege, not service.
But the new interim cabinet that emerged after the September uprising has turned this equation on its head. By embracing simplicity and humility, the ministers have offered the nation a powerful counterexample, perhaps even a roadmap for a different kind of political culture. The images of Mahabir Pun’s kitchen with a simple table and single gas cylinder, a scene any Nepali household could recognize, have become an emblem of this new approach. The central question now is whether this marks a fleeting experiment or the true beginning of Nepal’s departure from a deeply ingrained showy culture.
The spark that shattered the old order
On September 8, 2025, frustration boiled over. The government’s ban on 26 social media platforms was seen as an attempt to silence dissent, igniting massive protests led by Generation Z youths. What began as anger at censorship quickly grew into a broader rejection of corruption, arrogance, and the culture of excess that had long surrounded political elites.
The cost of this uprising was tragic, with at least 72 lives lost and more than 2,100 injured. But it was also transformative. Prime Minister K.P. Sharma Oli, who was adamant on not quitting at any cost, not only resigned but also had to flee for his life. The wild crowd was simply not ready to spare anyone who had ‘ruled the nation for long’ and ‘orchestrated the downfall’ of the country through massive corruption.
Simple choices, powerful messages
The vacuum was filled on September 12, when former Chief Justice Sushila Karki was sworn in as interim Prime Minister. Chosen by Gen Z, her appointment was historic: Nepal’s first female head of government, stepping in at a moment of profound national crisis. Known for her integrity on the bench, Karki’s reputation stood in sharp contrast to the culture of privilege and patronage that had long defined her predecessors. She now carries the responsibility of guiding the nation toward stability and overseeing free elections in March 2026. Equally significant, her rise set the tone for a government that looked and felt strikingly different.
What makes this interim cabinet stand out is not elaborate promises or slogans, but the symbolism of everyday choices. Instead of ostentation, they are modeling restraint. This does look natural and the only way amid how the government was formed. However, given the long practice of extravagance and wastefulness, it is still quite remarkable.
Rameshwor Prasad Khanal, appointed Finance Minister on September 15, is a figure respected for his clean record. He reappeared in government after years away, carrying his trademark modesty. His first move was simple but telling, launching a direct email system where citizens can send complaints and suggestions straight to his office. While this move has already started yielding results with dozens of emails received by the government and action taken in a number of cases, various other gestural steps are following to prove his authenticity already.
Kulman Ghising, widely celebrated for ending Nepal’s chronic power shortages, continues to embody service without privilege. Now Minister for Energy, Water Resources, and Irrigation, he is seen quite busy at fields in his very simple attire and attitude. It is hard not to believe that he is desperate about delivering the best in his present capacity.
And then comes Mahabir Pun, epitome of simplicity. This innovator and educator who has long championed rural connectivity and grassroots science, embodies simplicity as a way of life and is now the Minister for Education, Science, and Technology. He rejected any official residence and perks. He carried on with his old lifestyle of dining and sleeping in a corner of his simple working space. Photographs of his living space struck a chord with ordinary Nepalis: his kitchen corner with a table, a single gas cylinder, and bare essentials looked no different from that of a decent Nepali household. There was no attempt to hide or embellish it, every detail spoke of a man who lives as millions of Nepalis do.
This choice is more than symbolic, it can actually be called a statement. In a culture where politicians have traditionally measured success by the size of their convoy or the luxury of their homes, Pun has turned that culture upside down. People are smiling, laughing and loving his raw style. And Pun goes on to say: I am here to work, not to be served.
His life story makes this all the more powerful. From bringing wireless internet to remote Himalayan villages, to setting up the National Innovation Center to wandering like a nomad to sell his book in order to raise money for his projects, that nurtures young thinkers, Pun paints a unique picture of himself. For Nepal’s young generation, Pun is not just another minister, he is rather a proof that politics can look radically different. He embodies a stark simplicity that strips away the performance of power and reveals the essence of leadership: responsibility, service, and authenticity.
Road ahead
These people in the cabinet are setting an example. The cultural impact is immense amid the extravagant and irrational activities of Nepali politicians that have long sickened the nation. Luxurious vehicles once meant power, a posh residence signaled influence and a minister’s distance from the people was proof of status. But the new cabinet has flipped all these assumptions upside down. By rejecting excess, they are redefining what it means to lead. Their example challenges not only politicians but also ordinary citizens to reflect: why have we tolerated, and even admired, this showy culture for so long? And if leaders can walk in simplicity, why can’t society follow?
For a country weary of arrogance and excess, the quiet force of simplicity is not just refreshing, it is revolutionary. If remembered, it can guide us long after the present moment has passed.
Yet one must ask, will this simplicity endure? The interim government’s tenure is brief, and with elections looming, if not in March 2026, then soon after, the familiar contest of political parties will return. The elites who thrived on grandeur are not gone; they wait in the wings. Which makes the deeper question unavoidable: will Nepal allow this moment of humility to sink into its culture, or will it fade as a short interlude? The sacrifices of September, the lives lost, the youth who carried the movement, demand that it not dissolve into memory.
For if simplicity can take root here, it can ripple far beyond politics. When leaders embrace modesty, it sets a tone for schools, workplaces, and households alike. It redefines what is expected: that dignity comes from integrity, not luxury; that service is a responsibility, not a privilege. For a nation often torn between high aspiration and harsh inequality, such a re-ordering of values could be nothing short of transformative. It teaches that greatness lies in substance, not in show.
In this light, Nepal’s interim cabinet has offered more than a stopgap government; it has handed the nation a mirror. Mahabir Pun’s unadorned kitchen captures the spirit of politics without pomp, service without spectacle, leadership without indulgence. This is not a style to admire for a season, but a lesson to absorb deeply. For a country weary of arrogance and excess, the quiet force of simplicity is not just refreshing, it is revolutionary. If remembered, it can guide us long after the present moment has passed.
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