(Copy: The Right Honourable President of Nepal | The Right Honourable Prime Minister of Nepal) Dear sisters and brothers of Nepal, Today, I speak to you as a witness to a moment in our national life when silence itself has taken on a political meaning, and conscience has refused to remain quiet. Yesterday, Kantipur Daily placed a single question on its front page-'Why the void?'-and left the rest of the page completely blank. That emptiness was not a sign of absence; it was a profound symbol of democratic resistance. That silence exposed, all at once, the nation's unanswered questions, suspended justice, and deepening moral exhaustion. That very question-'Why the void?'-reminded me of a historical example. During the American financial crisis, Lynn Tilton, the owner of MD Helicopter Systems, found that the state refused to listen. In response, she purchased full pages in The New York Times and The Washington Post to publicly present her questions and anguish. Why did she do so? Because in a democracy, power may reside behind closed doors, but the state is compelled to listen only when citizens place their voices in the public square. Those pages forced the U.S. government to respond to financial injustice, job losses, and policy failure. Democracy, in the end, listens to citizens who speak with clarity and courage. The only question is-is the Nepali state ready to listen today? With this concern, I wrote a letter to the Prime Minister and formally approached Nepal Rastra Bank, urging them to consider a short-term capital market credit mechanism during this hour of national stress-not as a populist measure, but as a responsible intervention for national stability. Regrettably, it did not feel as though the central bank listened, nor did the government. I want to be absolutely clear before the people-I have always been a firm supporter of the anti-corruption movement. My resignation from Parliament was not the result of impulse, self-interest, or opportunism. It was submitted on September 8, 2025-when the blood had not yet dried and the truth had not yet been buried. I did not stand as an agent of any power, group, or individual, but as a responsible citizen. My contribution to the movement-moral, political, and institutional-runs far deeper and carries far greater meaning than the actions of the current Cabinet. Public image cannot substitute for action, and speeches cannot replace sacrifice. Today, the fact that the injured and the families of the martyrs of the Gen-Z movement have not received justice and dignity is not merely a tragedy-it is a failure of the state. The more disturbing question is this: if individuals responsible for collective violence during peaceful protests are sitting within the Cabinet itself, why have they not been prosecuted to this day? If the law applies to ordinary citizens, from where do those in power derive immunity for mass violence and killings? It is this selective justice that has wounded the very soul of democracy. The issue of law and order is extremely serious. It is deeply troubling that the state remains silent even as the Nepali Army, police, and paramilitary forces are dragged into public controversy, weakening their institutional dignity. In a democratic nation, security institutions are not political shields, nor tools to conceal wrongdoing. The state's first duty is to establish justice-not to wait for pressure, fear, or external signals. Corruption and moral decay have become another deep-rooted crisis. I say this with conviction: many members of the current Cabinet are weak when measured against the standards of anti-corruption, youth representation, and national integrity. My support has always been grounded in moral principles. But when the very structure of power protects wrongdoing and silences what is right, support itself becomes subject to reconsideration. Nepal today does not suffer from a lack of talent or potential; it suffers from a lack of clarity in leadership. We do not have nation-builders-we have political managers. A nation cannot move forward while trapped in the illusion of so-called 'non-alignment,' unable to identify its national priorities. Our Constitution is not neutral on values-it is explicitly democratic. Its spirit aligns with an open society, rule of law, freedom, and accountability. Choosing India, the United States, and partners who share democratic values is not subservience; it is fidelity to the Constitution and protection of national interest. Now to the issue of Starlink and digital opportunity. Blocking Starlink due to foreign pressure or internal fear is a loss of national opportunity. Starlink is not a military vehicle; it is a tool for education, technology, innovation, and entrepreneurship. Restricting digital access is not security-it is injustice toward the future. The measure of democratic leadership is not yielding to external pressure, but safeguarding opportunity. Today, I seek guidance from the Nepali people. Should I continue to extend moral support to a government where justice is delayed, the guilty are protected, and national priorities remain unclear? Should I reconsider my resignation and fight more forcefully from within for the youth, the martyrs, and Nepal's moral integrity? Or is it more appropriate to stand outside and allow public opinion and conscience to determine the direction of our national movement? This letter is not written for praise or approval. It is an appeal to the conscience and moral awareness of the people. Your collective judgment will decide whether democracy, dignity, and national pride are protected-or neglected. I will make my decision not on the basis of opportunity, fear, or political pressure, but solely on the moral guidance of Nepali citizens-those who have endured pain, loss, and betrayal in the pursuit of a free, just, and dignified Nepal. With respect, responsibility, and resolve, Rajendra Bajgain