The strike as a weapon in Nepal

By Daniel Lak BBC correspondent in Kathmandu

Nepal's Maoist rebels are now the masters of the general strike as a political weapon.

The three-day strike that began on Thursday is their boldest move since the breakdown of peace talks with the government late last month.

It is an attempt to show that they have popular support for their demands to change the constitution and, perhaps, abolish Nepal's monarchy.

During the ceasefire rebel leaders appeared openly in Kathmandu

The first thing that seems different during a general strike, or bandh as they are called here, is the air over Kathmandu city - it's clean.

On a normal working day, hundreds of thousands of vehicles belching diesel and petrol fumes turn this upland valley into a swirling cauldron of pollution. But all is clear during a bandh.

With all transport stopped and most shops and businesses closed, even main streets become promenades for families and places for boys to fly kites and perform daring manoeuvres on bicycles.

'What can you do?'

Nepalis are used to these strikes.

They were a frequent tool of political parties struggling for democracy in previous decades.

No one wants to invest in a country where the whole workforce stays home at the call of a rebel group

Even after Nepal's democratic revolution of 1990, politicians continued to use the general strike when it suited them.

Few paid heed to pleas from business and working people to settle differences in some less economically damaging way.

It's difficult to get ordinary Nepalis to tell you their feelings about issues like these.

The times are violent and volatile.

The best that most bystanders will offer, sitting in front of closed shops and leaning on fence rails alongside Kathmandu's main park, is the observation "ke garne" ("what can you do?").

It's not a question. It's an expression of frustration with years of political mayhem and insurgency.

Impact uncertain

"I blame the political parties," said one man, playing cards in the old town of Patan, next to Kathmandu.

"They had their chance with democracy and now they're not supporting the king against the Maoists."

Kathmandu residents are unwilling to talk about the strike

He's referring to the fact that political parties have been out of the mainstream since King Gyanendra dismissed an elected government nearly one year ago.

Two handpicked cabinets since then have made no more headway on resolving Nepal's problems than their elected predecessors.

So far, for example, pleas by the government for people to ignore the rebel strike call have gone unheeded.

Shiva Mainali, a barber cutting hair on the Bagmati bridge between Patan and Kathmandu, says no one believes the security forces can protect the common citizen if Maoists try to punish them for ignoring the strike call.

"They're too busy with the elite," he says, and his customers nod, carefully, lest Shiva's scissors slip.

Economists say strikes like these have a huge impact on Nepal's finances and labour productivity.

No one wants to invest in a country where the whole workforce stays home at the call of a rebel group.

But there's no doubting that the Maoists have demonstrated - at least on the first day of the strike - that the people still view them as a powerful force.

With pressure growing on the government to include political parties in the next government, there could be a chance for a resumption of peace talks.

Equally, the momentum of violence and protest could take over and the country's already steep decline could continue.