Long live the King

One doesn't get to touch the literal incarnation of God every day, it's once in a lifetime -- perhaps the only once in all existence -- opportunity that shouldn't be let go easily. That was the justification behind the mobbing of the newly-crowned King in the little village in Far-Western Nepal. The King had been recently crowned, his formal coronation was planned for three years away, and the fact that the country had voted overwhelmingly for the totalitarian communist party consistently in the preceding three elections didn't bother anyone while mobbing the guy. Nepalis had always had a fascination with royalty and divinity, there only problem with the Shahs had been the legitimacy. Now that a fully elected parliament had, under the force of a binding public vote, reinstated the institution its predecessor had uprooted less than three decades ago. The family that was associated with the crown was different, and this time quite a bit poorer, but it was clear the love adoration raw curiosity the country had for the crown and the King had only been enhanced in the intervening years.