None of the main parties are fielding candidates, except for a pro-palace breakaway faction of the Royalist People's Party. Among the candidates is Bhimsen Thapa, running for mayor of Pokhara, a picturesque town more than 100 miles west of the capital.

"I'm a politician," said Mr. Thapa, 45, who reeked of liquor at a midday party meeting in Pokhara. "If you worry, don't work in politics."

On their own, the municipal elections are not terribly important. Mayors and ward leaders are Nepal's equivalent of dogcatcher. But in a country where politics can resemble shadow puppetry, the elections have come to represent a symbolic referendum on the political future of the country. If the elections are seen as credible, they can help the king's standing somewhat. If they come off as a farce, they are quite likely to de-legitimize his reign.

The elections promise to be unlike any others in Nepal history. The Royal Nepalese Army, answerable to the king, is in charge of security. The local officials running the polls ultimately answer to the palace, and the government has offered life insurance policies to the candidates.

Some of the brave-hearted who have chosen to run have been sequestered in government safe houses. The European Union issued a statement on Friday calling the elections "another step backward for democracy." [On Monday, a mayoral candidate from the capital was wounded in a shooting.]

Even a year ago, just after the royal takeover, one could find a number of Nepalis willing to give Gyanendra a chance to restore peace and many more attached to the idea of a constitutional monarchy. Those sentiments are much harder to find today.

The main question now seems to be how much longer the monarchy will last and how much blood will be shed before its demise. The mood is more hostile than what many remember of the popular movement that ushered in parliamentary democracy in 1990.