India needs to preserve partnerships with Nepal, Bhutan without suffocating them

When I look at the map of South Asia, I don’t just see the Himalayas. I feel them. I hear the crunch of boots in snow, the clang of prayer bells, the laughter of children chasing a ball on a mountain path. To most, these peaks are borders on a map. To me, they are living companions, sentinels that have stood guard longer than memory.

I have served in these heights where clouds drift so low you can touch them. In Mustang, Nepal, an old Gurkha widow once told me how the mountains keep people honest. In Lomanthang, a monk paused and said, “Soldiers stand on both sides.” Those words have never left me.

Nepal and Bhutan are not pawns. They are proud nations, shaped by centuries of hardship and dignity. They have endured earthquakes, blockades and politics, yet walked their own way. Today, as China’s shadow grows longer, their survival and sovereignty remain crucial to India’s security. The Siliguri Corridor, our chicken’s neck, makes this region India’s most fragile frontier.

Geography has made Nepal and Bhutan buffers between giants. Prithvi Narayan Shah called Nepal a “yam between two boulders”. Bhutan’s rulers took a quieter approach, keeping outside powers at arm’s length. The British formalised this logic, turning them into protective cushions for the Raj. Treaties ensured that if danger came from the north, India (and earlier Britain) would stand on the line.

After independence, India inherited these ties. The 1949 Indo-Bhutan treaty gave Delhi influence over Thimphu’s foreign policy, while the 1950 Indo-Nepal treaty bound Kathmandu in mutual defence. From Delhi, this was necessity. From Kathmandu or Thimphu, it often felt like the grip of an overbearing elder. Yet, trade, soldiers’and shared borders kept the arrangement alive.

Everything changed when China took Tibet in the 1950s. Tibet had been a peaceful buffer; its fall turned it into a forward base of Chinese expansion. By 1959, the Dalai Lama and thousands of Tibetans had fled to India. Chinese troops now sat at India’s doorstep.

For Nepal and Bhutan, Tibet’s fate was a grim warning: mountains alone could not protect them. India responded by deepening defence partnerships, building roads, training armies and pledging aid.

Yet, over time, resentment grew. Nepal chafed at clauses that seemed to limit sovereignty. Bhutanese elites wondered how independent they truly were.

Still, leadership and geography helped them endure. Sikkim and Tibet did not survive intact, but Nepal and Bhutan did—by playing their cards carefully, bending when needed, standing firm when possible.

Even today, buffer logic endures. Bhutan aligns closely with India but engages cautiously with China. Nepal balances, seeking gains from both Delhi and Beijing. For India, this is both an opportunity and a risk. The Doklam standoff of 2017 showed how quickly bare rocks can become flashpoints. It proved our red lines.

China’s push is relentless—roads into cliffs, railways from Lhasa, digital networks and loans with strings. Nepal has welcomed some of this, signing onto China’s Belt and Road Initiative, while Bhutan has resisted. India’s response has been connectivity diplomacy—pipelines, railways, hydropower, scholarships and disaster relief. Sometimes slower, sometimes bureaucratic, but rooted in shared trust.

Nationalists accuse India of being “big brother”, yet when disaster strikes—as in the 2015 earthquake—it was Indian planes and medics that arrived first. Anti-India sentiment coexists with reliance. In Bhutan, ties remain steadier. Gross National Happiness may be their guiding principle, but India remains the closest partner, especially in hydropower, education and security.

Soft power matters as much as treaties. Bollywood films, cricket, pilgrimages, scholarships and shared culture weave connections that armies alone cannot. China builds roads and apps, but it has yet to match the bonds of language, food and faith that India shares with its Himalayan neighbours.

I have faced armed adversaries, but in the Himalayas, nature is often the deadliest foe. Warming glaciers, erratic rains, landslides and earthquakes threaten lives more than border patrols. India has begun to adapt—funding resilient roads, flood warning systems and glacier studies. Protecting the frontier now means planting trees and sharing water as much as posting guards.

Hydropower and green energy have become new battlefields. Bhutan’s rivers already light Indian towns, and Nepal’s waters hold similar promise. Yet, China also seeks to harness these rivers for influence. The race for green power may shape the region’s future more than troop deployments.

India’s challenge is to preserve these partnerships without suffocating them. In Bhutan, that means supporting modernisation while respecting sovereignty. In Nepal, it means patience with hedging, investing in youth and culture, and avoiding heavy-handedness. Strategy must be rooted in humility, empathy and shared destiny.

Ultimately, India’s stake in Nepal and Bhutan is not just geopolitical. It is personal. These are lands where I have shared tea, laughter and hardship with people who feel like family. To protect them is to keep a promise—to them, and to ourselves.

The author is former director-general of Assam Rifles.