ccording to his teachers and classmates at Kathmandu's Tribhuvan University, Kundal Kamle's defining trait was his relentless sense of injustice. A humanities undergraduate and student-union leader, Kamle spent much of his time whipping up political passions, hectoring passersby through megaphones and blocking the main road outside the campus with banners or burning tires. His causes ran the gamut from human rights to the price of gas. "Sometimes I liked him and I thought what he said was right," says Keshab Kumar Shrestha, an anthropology lecturer. "But other times he annoyed me. He was just too much, you know?"

　　At 9:30 a.m. last Tuesday, however, Kamle wasn't protesting. Shrestha says the 22-year-old student was chatting with a crowd gathered to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the university's Pushapati campus when a truck filled with about 15 armed policemen pulled up at the gates. A man in plain clothes carrying a shotgun walked up to Kamle. They exchanged words. Suddenly Kamle threw up his hands, looked at Shrestha and shouted: "Sir! Sir! They are taking me! This is the death of democracy in Nepal!" The man marched Kamle to the truck and he was driven away. Across Kathmandu and other major cities, similar scenes were taking place. Police and soldiers say they arrested hundreds of students that day. Jails were already packed with Maoist rebels and suspected sympathizers, so the students were taken to army barracks and to requisitioned gyms. Students weren't the only target: soldiers also strode into the cavernous, white stuccoed offices of the national government and hauled off government ministers, including Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba, placing him and all other senior political figures in the country under house arrest.

　　Nepalis who switched on their television sets found cultural shows and patriotic songs. At 10 a.m., King Gyanendra appeared, flanked by the Nepalese flag and his own royal standard, and announced his "historic decision," declaring: "Nepal's bitter experiences over the past few years tend to show that democracy and progress contradict one another ... In pursuit of liberalism, we should never overlook an important aspect of our conduct, namely discipline." As he spoke, telephone lines and Internet connections across Nepal went dead. The airport closed. Armored cars and soldiers with riot shields began patrolling Kathmandu's narrow alleys and set up roadblocks to catch anyone on a long arrest list that included everyone from student activists to human-rights workers. Later that day, the new Home Minister, handpicked by the King, announced a state of emergency, suspending rights to freedom of expression, assembly, information, property, privacy, press and publication, the right to form unions and associations, and the right not to be detained without reason or trial.

　　Thus the King ended Nepal's 14-year fling with democracy, at least for now. (The King says he will rule with a council of ministers for a maximum of three years.) The democratic experiment was a widely acknowledged failure, it's true. In those 14 years, Nepal has had 14 different governments, and the public's mounting contempt for politicians has helped fuel a Maoist insurgency that has cost the lives of 11,000 people since 1996. Having witnessed the Maoist movement's transformation from a ragtag rebel group to a ruthless force of 10,000-15,000 that controls some two-thirds of Nepal, the King said he had lost faith in the politicians' ability to stop the conflict. "Even when bloodshed, violence and devastation have pushed the country to the brink of destruction," he said, "those engaged in politics ... continue to shut their eyes ... and continue their tussle for power."

　　But faith in the monarchy has also plummeted since the palace slaughter of 2001, in which Crown Prince Dipendra killed King Birendra (Gyanendra's brother) and eight other royals before turning his revolver fatally on himself. King Gyanendra is nowhere near as popular as his predecessor -- and by seizing power he could be playing into the hands of the Maoists, who want to topple the monarchy and form a communist republic. The rebels wasted no time in reacting. Maoist leader Prachanda denounced the "genocidal, corrupted national betrayer Gyanendra."

　　The rest of the world also expressed vehement disapproval of the King's power grab. The United States and U.N. Secretary-General Kofi Annan both demanded the immediate restoration of democracy. British ambassador Keith Bloomfield called the takeover a "coup" and his government said it was reconsidering all foreign aid to Nepal -- dire threat for a country where the average annual income is just $240 and where 42% of the population lives below the poverty line. U.N. High Commissioner for Human Rights Louise Arbour, who has accused the Nepalese army of torturing and murdering people with impunity, expressed outrage that Gyanendra had pledged to her "his unequivocal commitment to human rights, democracy and multiparty rule" when she visited Nepal the previous week, even as he planned his takeover.

　　While the palace drummed up poorly attended rallies in support of the King, political leaders under house arrest smuggled out fearful notes to reporters. "If enough pressure is not exerted on Gyanendra, he may go to the extreme, [taking] dictatorial steps against the political parties, the leaders and the people," wrote Madhav Nepal, leader of the Communist Party of Nepal (United Marxist-Leninist), who had been widely regarded as a Prime Minister-in-waiting. Still, even he agreed that the country's political leaders have let down democracy's cause. "The performance and delivery of the parties, especially in power, was not good," he wrote in a note to TIME.

　　The contrast between the paralysis of their governments and the efficiency of the royal coup, meanwhile, astounded Nepalis and foreigners alike. There were no protests in Kathmandu, not even a traffic jam. Thousands of betrothed couples who, like the King, had picked Feb. 1 as an auspicious date in the Hindu calendar for their big day went ahead with their plans. By evening, Kathmandu echoed to the sound of wedding processions as cars decked with orange carnations and silver streamers followed uniformed brass bands in the streets.

　　The question now on many people's minds is this: Has the King taken power to save the country or simply for the sake of power? "The parties were so incompetent," says an ally of Gyanendra. "They were able to deliver no governance at all, and meanwhile there is a raging insurgency. So the King felt he had to act. He feels autocracy is going to achieve better results." A palace official says Gyanendra plans to restore multiparty democracy as soon as the Maoist threat has been neutralized, whether by military force or peace talks: "The King understands this is a big risk. He is risking everything -- the monarchy, his family, even his life -- for the sake of his people and his country." New Foreign Minister Ramesh Nath Pandey, now considered the most senior figure in government after the King, rejects the idea that Gyanendra's vows to restore democracy are no longer convincing: "This is a commitment by a King to his people. When the King says he is committed to multiparty democracy, how can anyone have any doubts?"

　　The King himself, in an interview with TIME a year ago, asserted: "The days of royalty being seen and not heard are over. If I step on some people's toes, I'm sorry ... But I can assure you this: the monarchy is not going to allow anyone to usurp the fundamental rights of the people." Yet those rights have now been rescinded. As politicians and students were being rounded up last week, soldiers stormed into TV, radio and newspaper offices and declared criticism of country, army or King unlawful. The threats worked: the next day the Kathmandu Post carried editorials on the weather and the pollution levels of the Bagmati River.

　　The human-rights climate in Nepal is almost certain to deteriorate. As U.N. human-rights commissioner Arbour puts it, the situation was already one of "crisis," with atrocities on both sides. The Maoists rule the remote valleys of far and mid-western Nepal through terror, executing at will and torturing people who might pose an alternative authority, such as teachers or doctors. The police and the army, meanwhile, are blamed by human-rights groups for pushing this nation of 27 million past Colombia as the world leader in "disappearances," with more than 1,200 people allegedly missing after being detained in the past four years. With emergency powers, says a European diplomat, there is a danger that the army will become even more aggressive, a particularly alarming prospect for India and the U.S., which have been re-equipping Nepal's military with self-loading rifles and M-16s. "Human rights is the huge fear," says the diplomat, with the government's foes at even greater risk of being killed or jailed "with no trial or rights."

　　Army spokesman Brigadier General Deepak Gurung says human rights are one of his priorities and admits to some "mistakes" in the past by ill-disciplined officers. But he says most such allegations have been false, and he insists that the detention of political leaders and activists was merely a "pre-emptive" move to ensure the "smooth running of day-to-day life." He adds: "The Maoists have taken action against the country. The security forces are fighting to preserve peace and security. Human rights groups compare us, and that is not correct."

　　In the meantime, diplomats and analysts wonder if Gyanendra is beginning to realize that he may have erred disastrously in taking control. Palace intimates say the King ignored advice that the international community would not accept his seizure of power. He may also have overestimated his support at home. By the end of last week, reports were surfacing of protests in several cities, including the tourist resort of Pokhara, where police were said to have fired tear gas at demonstrators. Says the European diplomat: "He has made a big mistake, misjudged the scenario and handed a golden opportunity to the Maoists to claim a moral victory and advance toward a total takeover. For the King, this is basically the last throw of the dice. If it doesn't work, we're looking at the end of the monarchy in Nepal."

　　Ajay Sahni of the New Delhi-based Institute for Conflict Management says the King's military strategy is also flawed. The army is already fully deployed, he argues, and lacks the manpower needed to defeat the Maoist guerrillas, who are holed up in the mountains. The Maoists now have the advantage, says Sahni: "They can just hide and watch the state rupture from the inside. When that happens, it's the end. And it'll be ugly. Revolutionary celebrations tend to leave the loser swinging from the lampposts." The stakes could hardly be higher: King Gyanendra is betting not just his own crown but the future of his nation. --With reporting by Yubaraj Ghimire/Kathmandu