[Ripi Bagra]
The announcement that India and China will resume border trade through Lipulekh Pass has once again unsettled Kathmandu. What was intended as a practical arrangement between New Delhi and Beijing quickly spiralled into a diplomatic flashpoint, as Nepal’s foreign ministry issued a sharp reminder that Lipulekh, along with Kalapani and Limpiyadhura, is claimed as its sovereign territory and incorporated into its official map.
India’s response was firm but measured. The Ministry of External Affairs reiterated that trade through Lipulekh is not new, having begun in 1954, and that Nepal’s claims are “neither justified nor based on historical facts and evidence.” At the same time, India left the door open for talks, underlining that it remains ready for “constructive dialogue” on outstanding boundary issues.
The dispute itself is rooted in old cartographic ambiguities. The Treaty of Sugauli of 1816 fixed the Kali river as Nepal’s western boundary, but the contest has always been over the river’s origin. India maintains that Kalapani, Lipulekh and Limpiyadhura fall within Uttarakhand, while Nepal insists they lie east of the river and therefore belong to it. For decades, the disagreement simmered quietly, overshadowed by the depth of bilateral ties. It resurfaced in 2015 after an India-China agreement on trade through Lipulekh, and again in 2020 when Nepal amended its Constitution to publish a new political map formally incorporating the disputed areas. India rejected both moves, but the issue has since remained an irritant in otherwise close ties.
Sovereignty has always been an emotional issue in Nepal. Even when the disputed territory is remote and relatively small, it carries a weight that far exceeds its size. For leaders in Kathmandu, appearing flexible on such matters is politically costly, as border disputes have the power to stir intense nationalist sentiment at home. For India, Lipulekh is more than a patch of contested ground. It is a critical frontier with China and also the route to the sacred Kailash-Mansarovar pilgrimage. The dispute, therefore, is layered, ie, strategic, political, and even spiritual, and cannot be reduced to cartographic lines alone.
Despite recurring strains, India and Nepal remain bound by one of the deepest and most complex relationships in South Asia. An open border of nearly 1,850 kilometres, thriving economic ties, shared culture, and countless family links that stretch across states and provinces make the relationship unique. But this closeness also makes it vulnerable. When symbolic questions like Lipulekh dominate headlines, they risk feeding mistrust and overshadowing the everyday realities of partnership.
The China factor adds another layer of complexity. From ambitious infrastructure projects under the Belt and Road Initiative to greater diplomatic visibility, Beijing has steadily expanded its footprint in Nepal. Each flare-up between New Delhi and Kathmandu offers China more space to advance its influence. For India, then, keeping good ties with Nepal is not just about history or sentiment but it is also about managing a larger strategic rivalry. A prolonged bitterness in the relationship would hand Beijing a firm foundation that New Delhi can ill afford.
What should India do then? The answer lies in combining firmness with tact. New Delhi cannot compromise on its long-held position on Lipulekh, but it must also acknowledge the emotional and political weight that such disputes carry in Nepal. Nationalist sentiment runs high, and any misstep by New Delhi quickly becomes a political storm in Kathmandu. Sensitivity and quiet diplomacy will serve India better than bluntness or public sparring. Power gives India influence, but in the neighbourhood, it is trust that sustains friendships and that is where New Delhi must strike the balance.
The Lipulekh dispute is not going away, but neither should it define the future. For India, the real challenge is to protect its interests while ensuring that Nepal remains a partner, not a perpetual grievance. That means combining firmness with patience, and hard boundaries with soft gestures of friendship. In the end, India’s own national interest is best served when its neighbourhood is stable, and that stability can only come from trust as well as strength. (The contributor is an independent researcher)
