In Dharan, the mornings are already marked by political discussions, even when neighbouring Itahari and Biratnagar remain quiet. At the break of day, the streets resonate with Harka Sampang’s own voice singing, “Shram garau Nepali ho, bhokai marne din aaiskyo’, translated as “Let’s work, Nepalis; the days of starving are here.” For locals, the tune signals that the Shram Sanskriti Party’s chair has arrived. Party leaders and workers fan out, going door-to-door, while the familiar melody draws voters to the streets.
At 11am on Friday at Durga Chowk in ward 9 of Dharan Sub-metropolitan City, the upbeat song blared as workers danced in unison, and Sampang stepped out, greeting residents with folded hands. Three years ago, during his first mayoral bid, he toured the same alleys alone, a handheld microphone in one hand, delivering speeches on a motorcycle. This time, the motorcycle is still part of his campaign, but the crowds are larger and the atmosphere electric. Wherever he appears, onlookers gather.
Back then, few paid attention. Now, the moment his modern campaign song plays, people emerge from every household. Wearing a black tracksuit and a T-shirt that reads “Harka Sampang – A Revolution”, he moves from home to home, greeting voters and handing out pamphlets outlining his agendas: democracy, federalism, and a directly elected executive presidency.
At a small grocery shop in Chandani Chowk, Sampang urges voters to “vote for the soil this time.” Forty-two-year-old Amrit Rai smiles at this request, taking the pamphlet. A woman waiting on a scooter catches his attention and Sampang greets her with a smile and slips her a leaflet, urging the schoolteacher to back his party.
Onlookers like Hema Limbu, 31, are impressed. “No other party leaders have been on the ground yet. He is already walking the streets asking for votes,” she said. “Harka will get a seat from Sunsari-1.”
At Aapgachhi Chowk, Sampang’s microphone echoes slogans: “Where should the vote go?” Cadres respond, “To the soil.” The election symbol of the party is two hands holding soil. His team not only asks for votes; they carry sacks and clean the streets, turning the campaign into a mix of activism and canvassing.
Usha Limbu, 50, from Bhanu Smriti Chowk, recalls supporting Sampang in an earlier movement. “He would win even without this effort,” she said. “But we walk door-to-door to clean neighbourhoods.” She adds that she hopes his next goal will be the prime ministership.
Sampang pastes the party’s election symbol in another house and requests support from 65-year-old Tilma Khatun. After the team leaves, she admits to the Post that she does not even have a citizenship certificate.
As the campaign’s pace quickens, Sampang insists on entering every home. At a roadside banana stall, he hands a pamphlet to Mahiman Basnet, an elderly seller. Basnet refuses, saying he already has one. Sampang insists, eventually placing it in a carton box, which Basnet discards. “He will win the election,” Basnet later remarks, “but he is stubborn.”