Timeless Currencies That Money Cannot Buy

Ah, the tiresome refrain: “Nepal, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh—they’re all China’s playthings. Religion? Pah! Empty stomachs don’t care for legends.” Rubbish. Absolute rubbish. Anyone who thinks like that has clearly never had a Nepali grandmother scold them with a Ramayana verse while feeding them dal bhat. Facts, my friends, are spicier than gossip.

So, here we go again — parroting Swami Vivekananda: “Religion on an empty stomach won’t work.” Lazy parroting, I say. Vivekananda’s point was simple: don’t bore a starving man with metaphysics. Feed him first. What he did not say is: “Let Beijing’s communists feed you rice and then own your soul.”

Look around. Nepal’s communists, red flags fluttering, are happy to mortgage their youth to Dubai and their politics to Beijing. Result? Regime change. Sri Lanka danced with the Chinese dragon, took loans for vanity projects, and woke up one morning with Hambantota Port leased out for 99 years. Bangladesh too almost sold its future for a fistful of yuan before seeing Colombo collapse under Chinese debt. The red flag doesn’t feed you — it robs you blind.

Nepal, first. In fiscal 2024–25, China accounted for a whopping 86.6% of Nepal’s FDI. Trade deficit? NPR 338.47 billion. Impressive, yes. But did Kathmandu turn into a Beijing puppet? Not on your life. Nepalis still bow to centuries of shared culture with India: Sita Mata’s reverence, Buddha’s birthplace in Lumbini, festivals that feel like Delhi, language, cuisine—Nepal is India’s twin, sometimes more obedient than a twin should be. Money talks, culture whispers—and Nepalis, I assure you, have exceptionally sharp ears.

Sri Lanka, meanwhile, teeters on its economic tightrope. Hambantota Port and Chinese loans glitter in balance sheets, but legends of Ram crossing the ocean to Lanka remain etched deep in the collective imagination. Buddhists may meditate in their temples, but Ram and Sita are not foreign fables—they are subcontinental property, shared, traded, and fiercely remembered. Chinese cranes can erect ports, but they cannot reconstruct centuries of faith, folklore, and identity. Ram crossed the sea in epic tales; India’s soft power has been crossing borders quietly, stubbornly, irrepressibly for centuries.

Bangladesh, trading $24 billion with China in 2022–23, may appear a satellite, but look closer. Tagore’s songs still float through the streets. Bengali culture thrives. Identity is woven into the very air. Economics may chatter, but culture, literature, music, devotion—they shout. And they cannot be bought.

And here’s the clincher: India itself boasts a robust ancient economy built around temples, religion, and culture. Temples were not just for incense and prayer—they were banks, schools, marketplaces, granaries, even art galleries. Civilization itself was an ATM for culture and economy. The Cholas knew it, the Pandyas knew it, every pilgrim town knew it. Faith was not against the stomach — faith fed the stomach. Today, Modi is reviving this legacy: temples powering local economies, festivals fueling commerce, culture as soft power. China cannot touch that.

So please, spare the sermon that Nepalis, Sri Lankans, or Bangladeshis tilt to China because “religion doesn’t work on an empty stomach.” China’s communists have proved they can empty the stomach faster than any priest. Faith and culture—India’s stubborn soft power—outlast bulldozers, balance sheets, and red books.

Try bulldozing Ram, Sita, Buddha, or Tagore out of South Asia. Even Xi Jinping’s cranes aren’t tall enough.