By Madan Lamsal

They say the regret of missing out on Agra's laddus hits you harder than a missed flight. But let me tell you, the real laddus worth chasing are the laddus of power. Our MPs and politicians practically do the cha-cha-cha of regret when they can't get their hands on the laddus of power. They're like kids denied candy at a carnival, only they throw bigger tantrums! Our Prime Minister is the ringmaster of this power laddu circus. He's in a perpetual game of 'musical chairs for ministers,' making sure everyone gets a bite of the power pie! And some of our ministers? Oh boy, they're as generous as grandma on Dashain Tika, slipping resignation letters into the Prime Minister's coat pockets so that new candidates can taste the rewards of power. And guess what? If the PM's 'choice' isn't even an MP, no worries! A sitting MP can be nudged to exit stage left, setting the scene for a by-election to elect the PM’s ‘choice’. Ever seen a Prime Minister and MPs this good at savoring and sharing the sweet rewards of power?

Perhaps due to his magical ascent to the Prime Minister’s throne via the ‘stability’ enchantment, our Prime Minister keeps inducting new ministers into his Cabinet to give stability to the government! MPs, the eternal wanderers, find stability as ministers. Stable MPs beget a stable government. Thus, our Prime Minister, like a mad scientist, transforms wandering minds into ministers, weaving a spell of stability over governance. As for what these ministers are up to, well, that remains a bit of a puzzle!

Ah, the noble ministers, those modern marvels of multitasking! Hopefully, they, too, are busy doing great things. Some are as bold as sending someone with a loaded gun in his vault to lead a peace mission! And of course, we have ruling party MPs pointing fingers at ministers, shouting "Corruption!" Needless to say, such accusations are only more expected from the opposition MPs. But let's not ignore the treasure trove of past escapades and current property portfolios of these ministerial maestros. It's like they're auditioning for the role of 'Most Mysterious Magician.' Small wonder that everyday folks have taken to labeling leaders and ministers with a motley mix of colorful titles: thieves, swindlers, and the whole rogues' gallery. Yet, in this grand political theater, one label remains timeless, no embellishments needed: 'politician.' It's the ultimate one-size-fits-all tag, akin to slapping a 'Made in China' sticker on everything! In the end, whether they're a saint or a scoundrel, we'll just call them what they are – politicians, the grand puppeteers of the show.

Ah, the mystical aura of the ministerial post! There is something definitely magical about it. The instant a politician gets wind that they're being promoted to a government minister, their face lights up like a kid who just scored a lifetime supply of candy. The mere news of their ascension to ministerial status transforms them into walking portraits of elation. Suddenly, their facial expressions undergo a happiness upgrade, their body language shifts into an impressive stance, and voilà, the "important" switch is flipped!

But the magic doesn't stop there. Oh no, it's contagious! The joy spreads like wildfire, infecting the new minister’s family members, relatives, and his neighbor's dog looks like it's won a lottery. It's like the Ministerial Joy Flu – highly contagious and guaranteed to cause an outbreak of gleaming faces. Those near and dear to the new minister beam like they've just found a goldmine under their beds! And let's not forget the grand spectacle that unfolds within the party's inner sanctum. The top leaders and cadres, with visions of a glittering utopia dancing in their heads, shine brighter than a supernova. They're like kids in a candy store, except the candy is power, and the store is, well, Singha Durbar!

It's a moment when dreams sprout like mushrooms after a rain, and everyone around the freshly-baked minister envisions nibbling on the scrumptious power pie. Of course, they're distributed according to a hierarchy of status – power pies, now available in various sizes!

As for the minister themselves, oh the joy! They find themselves floating on Cloud Nine, daydreaming about all the sweet rewards power brings. It's like they've won the political lottery, and the prize is their very own power kingdom. Oh, and let's not forget the transformation! Once a mere mortal, now they've crossed the threshold of Baluwatar, and bam! They're suddenly pumped with political protein shakes. And, dare we mention the "Before" and "After" photos of former Prime Ministers? It's like they discovered the fountain of youth, with each stint in Baluwatar adding a few extra years of vitality – a dash of prime ministerial pixie dust, if you will.

I used to rack my brains thinking how can the mere appointment of one minister turn an entire political party into a parade of jubilation? It's like scratching your head over how a single slice of cake can make an entire room light up with sugar-induced glee. But wait, there's a profound revelation lurking in the shadows, and I, your humble guide, am here to reveal it!

Picture this: back in the days of Lanka, all it took was a solo Hanuman to set the place ablaze – and not in a cozy, marshmallow-roasting way. We're talking full-on fiery escapades! Similarly, in our political realm, the strategic placement of a single minister can conjure up prosperity spells that even Lord Kubera would be envious of!

Imagine a laddu, not just any laddu, but a laddu of power – sweeter than the sweetest nectar, cooler than the moon on a crisp night, and oh-so-soothing. Just the tantalizing thought of sinking one's teeth into the laddu of power can banish even the most stubborn sorrows from a minister's heart. And what's with the ministers and their chairs? It's as if they're glued to their seats, rooted there by the gravitational pull of that delicious, power-infused treat. And while comfortably ensconced in their thrones, and when brokers line up, ministers chant the mantra of laddu-liciousness: "When will I taste the sweetness?"

Ah, behold the wondrous spectacle! From the instant they park their well-padded derriere on those ministerial thrones, a transformation of epic proportions occurs. All their organs morph into a chorus line of greedy tongues, each jostling to be the first in line to savor the intoxicating laddu of power. Forget their liver, their heart; it's all about their insatiable taste buds for corruption-flavored treats!

But oh, the dreams that dance in the minister's head! Night after night, they're wrapped in a quilt of dreams woven with threads of grandeur and power-laddu cravings. Yet, reality often plays the trickster, and what's promised is not always delivered. Cue the dramatic music – our dear minister collapses onto their well-polished desk in a faint worthy of Shakespearean tragedy. The laddu of power remains tantalizingly out of reach, and they've got the best seat in the house for their own pity party.

Enter the cavalry, the knights in brokered suits! Seeing our minister crumble under the weight of unfulfilled laddu-longing, they leap into action. It's like a scene from a comedic melodrama, where brokers in all their glory rush forth, wielding their magical lists and connections. "Fear not, dear minister!" they exclaim, "We shall retrieve the fabled laddus of power, and you shall feast upon their succulent glory!"

So, here's to the ministers, whose taste buds tango with greed, whose dreams could rival a Hollywood script, and whose brokered saviors zoom to the rescue. For in the grand circus of politics, it's the laddu of power that reigns supreme – and it's one treat nobody's willing to share a bite of!