The silence of the deserted streets of Nepal's normally bustling second city, nestled beneath the towering Himalayas, speaks volumes about the growing sense of fear and despair across this country.
The king and prime minister are in Pokhara but, despite a security lockdown, most locals are too scared to defy a strike called by Maoist rebels to disrupt a royal rally.
King Gyanendra and the unelected ministers he appointed are losing control of the country and the situation is worsening by the day.
Nepal is beset by a growing Maoist revolt and a political crisis which opposition leaders say will, unchecked, turn it into a failed state, a dangerous zone of instability between the nuclear giants of China and India and what one general here warns could be a new Afghanistan - a nest for international militants.
"It seems the state is going to be helpless and one day we will have to declare the state has failed because there will be anarchy, there will be chaos," says Madhav Kumar Nepal, head of the Communist Unified Marxist-Leninist (UML) party and leader of an alliance of five opposition parties.
The parties themselves have been frozen out since Gyanendra replaced the elected prime minister with his own loyalist appointee in 2002 and delayed polls due that year.
Although a constitutional monarch on paper, all power now effectively lies with Gyanendra, whose public standing is fading and who faces mounting pressure at home and abroad to replace the royalist government with a multi-party team.
"The armed conflict continues with greater ferocity. The constitutional deadlock remains unresolved. Our concerns for democracy...and human rights in Nepal are as acute as ever," says Britain's special representative for Nepal, Sir Jeffrey James.
"For more than a year now, we have expressed our hope to see the formation of a broadly based multi-party government, enjoying widespread support and exercising full executive powers."
But the government denies any crisis.
"The idea that the constitution has broken down is wrong," says Finance Minister Prakash Chandra Lohani, chief government negotiator in the last political talks which failed in August.
"We are committed to holding elections as soon as possible."
Analysts are convinced there can be no progress towards ending the Maoist rebellion, which has killed more than 9,250 people and destroyed the economy of one of the world's poorest nations, until a government of national unity is formed.
That would pave the way for new talks with the rebels, who want all parties involved, and, ultimately, national elections.
The key is Gyanendra, crowned in 2001 after his popular brother, King Birendra, and nine of his relatives were killed by the then crown prince, Dipendra.
"If we could solve this great problem between the king and the parties, and if we could form a government of national unity... then I believe we could get peace talks," says human rights activist Padma Ratna Tuladhar, a mediator in the talks.
"But the king's ego problem makes him very strict."
The political crisis could yet hand the Maoists what they openly admit they cannot achieve on the battlefield: a republic.
"The parties have already started discussing this issue," says Tuladhar. "The leaders have warned the king that if there is no political solution they will go for a republic."
Since the talks failed, the revolt in the world's only Hindu kingdom has become ever bloodier. Last week, at least 250 people died when rebels overran a district capital, Beni, 280 km (175 miles) west of Kathmandu, in the worst carnage of the war.
The Maoists, who model themselves on the Chinese revolutionary but are vigorously disowned by Beijing, have about 15,000-20,000 core fighters, backed by some 50,000 "militia" - villagers who fill supporting roles, such as stretcher bearers.
Army Brigadier General Prakash Bahadur Basnat, who commands a third of Nepal, says foreign militants are backing the Maoists.
"The terrorists want to destabilise Nepal so they can move in and use it like Afghanistan," he says
The rebels' following comes mainly from rural youth living hand-to-mouth in mud and thatch huts with no electricity, no roads and no future who see revolution as the only way out.
"There is no alternative in the country," says Shyam Shrestha, editor of the Mulyankan news weekly. "The king is not popular, and the political parties also."
Once part of the mainstream but worried about plummeting popularity, the Maoists issued a list of demands in late 1995, including land reform and an end to the monarchy.
Ignored, they took up arms a few months later.
Nepal's 150,000 soldiers and police, many poorly armed with old bolt-action rifles, are not enough in terrain ideal for guerrilla warfare, with thick forests and precipitous mountains. Both sides admit a strategic stalemate, with no military way out.
In the meantime, the revolt is bleeding aid-dependent Nepal, where the average income is 60 cents a day. A third of the 75 district capitals have no roads to the outside world.
Tourism has collapsed to barely half the 500,000 of 1999.
Worse, the revolt is bleeding Nepalis.
The Maoists, in their dark blue uniforms and red scarves or caps, routinely torture and kill villagers who fail to give them food or shelter, or whom they suspect of informing, rights groups say. The government forces are accused of being little better, doing the same to anyone they suspect of helping the guerrillas.
"It is ultimately the people who are victimised, either by the Maoists or by the government," says Som Raj Thapa, of Nepali human rights watchdog INSEC.
But a solution appears a long way off. Gyanendra shows no sign of bending and says elections cannot be held for at least another year because of the security situation.
The opposition is stepping up its protest campaign to press for a government of national unity and the revival of the old parliament - where they held 194 of the 205 seats.
But, tarnished by their own shaky records in government, they have been unable to rouse public support.
In a dusty slum on the edge of a stinking, rubbish-filled ravine in Pokhara, a taxi driver, too scared to be named and too scared to defy the strike, talks of life for ordinary people.
"The government says it will protect me," he says, looking around nervously. "But I don't trust them. Everyone is afraid."
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