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Clutching vintage Enfield .303 rifles, Nepalese police patrol the bazaars of the remote western town of Musikot.
This is the district headquarters for Rukum, a large and impossibly rugged swathe of the Middle Hills that is largely off-limits to the police these days. Shadowy Maoist rebels control most of Rukum and several neighbouring districts, confining the poorly-armed and trained police to a few places like Musikot. The Maoists have killed more than 100 police officers so far this year, more than 30 of them in late March in the next valley over from Musikot.
Demoralising strategy
The strategy is to assert sovereignty over the countryside by demoralising the police, and it seems to be working. A senior official in Musikot told me that constables stationed there were nervous and unhappy. They felt exposed, he said.
Townspeople were philosophical about the situation, although many - especially government workers - said they were worried too. "Till now, we haven't been attacked," said a shopkeeper, "But anything can happen anytime. The Maoists aren't far away."
'Free zones'
A short walk outside Musikot and you're in what the Maoists call "free zones" - where the police have pulled out rather than face rebel attacks. The terrain is rugged and beautiful, classic countryside for guerrilla warfare. There are no roads, just footpaths and rickety bridges over the rushing mountain rivers.
The first Maoist slogans appear less than an hour into the journey. "Support the Peoples' War", proclaims one in Nepalese script. "Observe the fifth anniversary of our struggle" says another.
Tacit support
It has been just over five years since Nepal's Maoists began fighting the elected government in Kathmandu. Villagers along the trail from Musikot are either completely silent - unusual for Nepalese, a loquacious and friendly people - or make no secret of their support for the Maoist uprising.
"Electricity, roads, health and education, all these will come with the Maoist," says a young women in her late teens, walking with a group of friends. The others nod and join in excitedly. "When I'm done with my studies, maybe I'll join the Peoples' War too," says a 15-year-old.
The Maoists are intensely security-conscious, especially now that the government is about to deploy the army to protect a big development programme in rebel-affected areas. Villagers told us that armed groups of Maoist fighters had been moving around in the area a few days earlier. "Perhaps they're plotting their next strategy," said a young man in Simle village, six hours walk from Musikot.
'Protecting democracy'
In Kathmandu, the authorities sound determined to press ahead with army deployment. "We have to protect the rights of the people, their lives and their livelihoods," says Deputy Prime Minister, Ram Chandra Poudel.
Human rights groups - who have criticised both sides for brutality and atrocities - are wary of the army's role. "It's dangerous," says activist and former freedom fighter, Padma Ratna Tuladhar, "An encounter between military and Maoists could escalate the conflict. And we desperately need to get dialogue going to avoid a civil war."
Mr Tuladhar and others like him are trying to arrange peace talks, which both sides say they want, but so far to no avail. "No one can win militarily," says a retired army officer. "But there is much to lose if the violence escalates."
It is safe to say that ordinary
Nepalese - most of them - share this sentiment, and they hope that both
government and the Maoists are listening to them.
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