History Lessons Nepal

FROM HIMALAYA TO MALAYA

2012-01-24T09:37:00.000-08:00

Dato Mohamed Mirza Taiyab is one of the quickest thinkers I have known. While on his first Tourism Malaysia promotion in Nepal, as the Director in charge of Promotions and Marketing, he was already tinkering with what Nepal Tourism Board might adopt for its advertising jingle. He told me that The Carpenters' song "Top of the World" would greatly resonate with international tourists alluring them to visit the tallest mountains in the world; would we be able to secure the copyright to it?

Later as the Director General of Malaysian Tourism Board he brought many innovative marketing strategies to offer Malaysia to the world as "Truly Asia". It was he who pointed out to me the connection between our Himalaya and his Malaya. People had travelled from North India to Malaya before Christ and brought to it the Hindu religion and its ruling dynasties. One of the first kings of Kedah, a Malay province known in ancient times as Langkasura, was a progeny of Alexander the Great who married a princess of North-western India and settled down in Malaya. He named his new territory "Malaya" a derivative of Himalaya if this theory is to be believed. Rajah and Sultan were titles imported from India.

The Malay link to the Himalaya does not end here of course. It was during the Second World War that the Gurkha soldiers fought on the side of Britain to expel the Japanese invaders. Later still the Gurkha soldiers fought the Communists during the Malayan Emergency. Four new regiments were formed here, Gurkha Engineers, Signals, Transport and Military Police. After 1957 A.D. in recognition of their contribution Independent Malaysia would bestow onto them citizenship and conscription in the Malaysian Armed Forces, especially in the Royal Ranger Regiment. In 1955 my father General Kiran Shumsher as Commander-in-Chief of the Nepalese Army went on an official visit to Malaya at the invitation of Commander-in-Chief, Far Eastern Command of the British Army and inspected the Gurkha regiments stationed there. I have found an old newspaper cutting of my father inspecting Gurkha children in a school.

I have been involved in our country's commercial ties with Malaysia. Representing Malaysia Airlines in Nepal as its General Sales Agent I have had the honour and pleasure of welcoming a great number of Malaysian tourists since 1999. In close collaboration with the Malaysian Tourism Board I initiated the promotion of Malaysia as an attractive and viable tourist destination for Nepalese pockets. Nepalese tourists reveled in the manifold attractions of Kuala Lumpur, a modern cosmopolitan city; in the many theme parks such as those in Genting Highlands and the pristine beaches of Langkawi. I single handedly started a burgeoning outbound travel industry that a decade later caters to ever larger numbers of Nepalese tourists flocking to foreign shores from Egypt to Turkey, Mauritius to Dubai and from Thailand to China.

Furthermore Malaysia today has become the proverbial El Dorado for young Nepalese men and women in search of job opportunity the host country generously obliges them with. There are over 600,000 Nepalese workers there sending back remittance to the mother country in precious foreign exchange that helps our banks run. We are more welcome there than many other workers from neighbouring countries as history is on our side. The Gurkhas have lost their lives guarding Malaya. Malaysians are now paying the debt it owes to the people from the Himalaya.

I am with my family in Kota Kinabalu, Sabah, Malaysia

A BLAST FROM THE PAST - THE PROCLAMATION

2012-01-10T03:17:00.000-08:00

General Kiran reading the historic proclamation

MY FLIGHT OF FANCY

2012-01-02T19:00:00.000-08:00

The dream I have of flying like a bird was fulfilled in a way when I took off to the air recently as I para-sailed in Penang. The reassuring harness strapped to my body the speedboat took off with a great speed and noise and hurtled me into the air, feet dangling and all, for a sensation I wanted to experience since my childhood. As I soared higher and higher, I watched the Penang beachfront receding into the distance and the horizon widening to unveil a jewel of an island.

Flying was a novelty to most of us back then when I was a child, for both adults and children. Few aircrafts landed at Kathmandu and those pilots who flew them were legendary. Whenever I came across these pilots, pointed out to me in whispered awe by my minders, I used to look up to them both literally and metaphorically. I remember a Sikh pilot and another Anglo-Indian pilot frequently flying the Nepal skies. I cannot remember their names. However the real Indiana Jones of the time was a Polish pilot; more of him later.

It was sometime during this period that I dropped a bombshell sending the household into a tizzy: I would become an airline pilot when I grew up! The consternation this unexpected announcement generated caught my mother in a pang of anxiety as she slapped me and started sobbing. Flying for a living was a subject one did not broach ever after. But flying I did for the very first time in a Douglas DC-3 of Royal Nepal Airlines when I accompanied my father to Patna en route to a train journey bound for Varanasi and Lucknow back in 1962. The Dakotas were noisy and shaky and I remember father and son puking at the Patna airport washroom after a particularly violent flight.

DC-3 Aircraft at Kathmandu's Gauchar Airfield

Starting from 1950 the first commercial aircrafts to land at Kathmandu's "Gauchar", cattle grazing field, were the Dakotas of Himalayan Aviation, an airline company started by Nepal's political exiles Subarna Shumsher and Mahavir Shumsher based in Calcutta with 3 DC-3s acquired from the Burma Front. Both the Ranas would finance to the hilt many burgeoning but penniless political parties hell bent on ousting the Rana regime but I digress. It took Captain Stanislaw Bujakowski, a gutsy Polish WWII veteran of the Royal Air Force and accompanying good karma to fly passengers from Calcutta into the mountains up north and land in Kathmandu Valley. The couple Bujakowski - Halina and Stanislaw - were intrepid adventurers who embarked in 1934 on a transcontinental journey from Warsaw to Shanghai on a BSA G34-14 motorbike for "their honeymoon"! Following Hitler's invasion of Poland Stanislaw joined the RAF in England and fought for the British. After the war he joined Himalayan Aviation and flew frequently to Nepal.

The Bujakowskis and their BSA motorbike

After 1951 for the first time supplies were flown into Nepal instead of transported on the backs of porters over the interminable mountain passes. Himalayan Aviation was merged into Indian Airlines in 1953 while the Nepalese aviation industry would grow independently with the formation of Royal Nepal Airlines in 1958.

Halina Bujakowska's book on her journey with her husband Stanislaw from Warsaw to Shanghai in a motorbike

My dream to fly has been fulfilled in more ways than one since my childhood. I have brought in international charter flights to Nepal filled with tourists, represented numerous airlines such as Malaysia Airlines and Aeroflot and assisted China Southern Airlines to fly to Nepal. I was not destined be a pilot; that is all.

Transavia Airlines' maiden flight to Nepal, September 1998

HOTEL ROYAL AND THE UNVEILING OF SHANGRI-LA

2011-12-22T18:37:00.000-08:00

The story of the first hotel of repute in Nepal starts with King Tribhuvan opening up the country after his return from a short exile in India. The year was 1951 A.D. Just a few years earlier King Tribhuvan was the first monarch in several generations to be granted permission to leave the country on a private visit since the Rana family started ruling Nepal. In 1944 Maharajah Juddha Shumsher the prime minister made arrangements for the king to leave for Calcutta on health grounds and my father Kiran Shumsher, Juddha's son then Major General was deputed to look after the royal visit.

Boris Lissanevitch was the purveyor of European style wining and dining to the metropolis that was Calcutta. The name of Boris's famed establishment was "Club 300", the name derived from his limiting its membership to 300 of Calcutta's elite while women too were allowed in bucking the Colonial trend. It became hugely successful. Soon it became as legendary as the bar in the movie "Casablanca" the Humphrey Bogart character presided over. I can vividly imagine the affable Boris telling tall tales of his flight from Odessa to Paris after the Bolshevik takeover, his successful stint with ballet master Serge Diaghilev's "Le Ballet Russes" and his later jaunts in pre-revolutionary Shanghai. He told stories of how he danced all the way to Calcutta with his dancing partner and first wife Kira before parting ways. King Tribhuvan, hitherto unexposed to life on the fast lane, must have been enraptured by the Calcutta glitterati and the charming Boris.

Kira and Boris

Soon after King Tribhuvan assumed power in 1951 it was his old acquaintance Boris of Club 300 fame the king would invite to open a hotel in Nepal. Boris Lissanevitch landed in Kathmandu in November 1953 with his newly-wed wife the Danish beauty Inger, 20 years his junior, and with their two small boys, Mischa and Alex. Nicholas my classmate in junior school was born in Nepal. Boris was handed over one wing of the large palace then known as Bahadur Bhawan, the residence of the eldest son of Maharajah Juddha, to open a hotel. He named it Hotel Royal in salient gratitude to royal patronage. It was never known as Royal Hotel as it might denote ownership of the Royal family, part of the calibrations a democratic post-Rana Nepal required.

Boris and Inger

The palace that Boris was given for opening a hotel had its own turbulent past. The palace known as "Char Burja" with four minarets on the roof following Mughal-era architectural tradition was built in 1889 by Maharajah Bir Shumsher Rana, prime minister of Nepal from 1885 to 1901. It was one of several opulent palaces Bir built to transform the landscape of Kathmandu Valley from ethnic Newari to European neo-classical. Tallo (or lower) Narayan Hiti, Lal Durbar, Seto Durbar and Phora Durbar were also built during his period. "Char Burja" was given to his son General Rudra Shumsher where he and his family resided until 1934 A.D. Rudra was the eldest son of the second wife of Bir Shumsher elevated to the rank of Maharani after he came to power and the sons were enlisted in the roll of succession as approved by the Privy Council.

Politics intervened cruelly to give new ownership to the building that was "Char Burja". On 18th of March 1934 A.D. Maharajah Juddha, succumbing to pressure from the restless "A" class Rana "nomenclatura", banished from the prime ministerial roll Commander-in-Chief Rudra Shumsher, second in line after the prime minister, and all other sons of Bir and Bhim Shumsher considered to have been born from their second wives and thus deemed unfit for the roll of succession. Their Kathmandu properties were confiscated by the state and they were exiled to albeit luxurious life of country squires but far away for the power center of Kathmandu. Rudra Shumsher was exiled to Palpa as the Bada Hakim or Governor of the province. Maharajah Juddha took over the palace and gave it to his eldest son Bahadur Shumsher.

"Char Burja", the former Hotel Royal houses the
National Election Commission today.

The palace forlornly houses the National Election Commission today. Despite its recent whitewash it looks lifeless. Boris the bon vivant is missing, his tourists are missing, his royal guests do not visit anymore and his mother-in-law's antique shop does not bring in the curiosity hunters. Grey bureaucrats wander about aimlessly waiting for the next dubious election. Hotel Royal saw its halcyon days in the fifties and early sixties until newer hotels such as Soaltee and Annapurna opened to steal its thunder. But Boris and his Hotel Royal will always be remembered as the first among equals.

Boris in the background supervising a State Banquet

GODAVARI SCHOOL REVISITED

2011-12-04T19:15:00.000-08:00

"Live for God, Lead for Nepal" was the mantra imparted to us by our Jesuit priests at St. Xavier's Godavari School, my alma mater. Life was simple and straight forward then as illustrated by the sound tagline for an English Medium School opened in 1951 A.D. by a special permission Fr. Marshall Moran, S.J. charmed out of the last Rana Prime Minister of Nepal, Maharajah Mohun Shumsher. Godavari is a pristine locality in the south east corner of the Kathmandu Valley, resting on the lap of the Phulchowki Mountain in the Mahabharat range, at over 9,200 ft. the tallest peak surrounding the valley. The Rana rulers of Nepal had built there for themselves summer palaces to escape the stifling heat of the city during the months of May and June. A road was cleared for horses and carriages and electrical lines stretched.

Rana Prime Minister's residence re-christened Xavier House by the Jesuits

Starting this school was one of the epochal steps Nepal took to open itself to the outside world: hitherto Nepalese students going to school in India could now get proper education in the English medium in the Kathmandu valley itself. Fr. Moran, S.J. having started a similar Jesuit school in Patna in India, had the wherewithal to convert the Rana buildings and its expansive grounds into a school of high quality. Necessary permissions were granted in 1951 A.D. through the office of General Mrigendra Shumsher, the Director of Public Education, who was very influential as he was the son of Commander-in-Chief Baber Shumsher J. B. Rana. Promptly Fr. Moran chartered a plane and brought from Patna one Land Rover, two tons of supplies and Fr. Frank Murphy and Fr. Ed Saxton in tow. Soon the Rana Regime would end and Nepal would enter a new era of experimentation with democracy.

Godavari School Class VIII, 1968

In 1965, when I was first admitted to Godavari School in Class V, there were still buildings extant named after their Rana patrons - there was "Keshar Mahal", a bungalow separated from the main school manor house by a long, dark and cold walk in the wintry night as the building was our dormitory in Class VII. "Nara Mahal" was where some of the fathers lived and where Fr. Bertrand Saubolle experimented with his roses. The main building was the abode of the Rana Prime Minister and this is where we had our dormitory in Class V. I don't recall the original name but it had been re-christened "Xavier House". The decorative water fountain in the driveway had been turned into a swimming pool. Fr. Eugene Watrin, S.J. who was our principal then, would take his morning and evening swimming exercises and I remember with three strokes of his powerful arms he would swim across the pond and repeat the same innumerable times to keep fit.

"Keshar Mahal" was our dormitory in Class VII

Godavari is one of the important holy places in Kathmandu Valley with the local deity feted annually and which culminates every twelve years in a great month-long mela. The local spring is said to have a direct link with the River Godavari of South India as a sage swept by the River Godavari was found floating in the spring at Godavari in Kathmandu Valley. True or false history has forgotten. It can be safely said that the rulers of Nepal had their summer abodes there even earlier but the first confirmation from a reliable source comes from Daniel Wright, the surgeon at the British Residency in Kathmandu of the 1870's, who wrote that Maharajah Jung Bahadur Rana and his brothers had built numerous country houses there for summer retreat and hunting. Wright also mentions that cardamom was profitably grown there.

The main building which can be described as a manor house that we found back in 1965 was definitely built by Maharajah Chandra Shumsher on earlier foundations. He also built a few lodges scattering around the manor house for his entourage including his sons. "Keshar Mahal" was one of them named after his son. Whosoever became the maharajah took possession of these premises much like the other famous retreat at Gokarna; so it changed hands from one family to another. During the time of Maharajah Juddha, he further enlarged the buildings and built new lodges including one for his eldest grandson General Nara Shumsher, the building known to us as "Nara Mahal".

"Nara Mahal" is today Godavari Ashram,
a chapel adjoins the original building.

A quarter of a mile away was "Bahadur Bhawan" named eponymously after the eldest son of Maharajah Juddha but very few people know that my father General Kiran Shumsher was the owner of this building which was handed over to Fr. Moran. The building further underwent several incarnations. Originally a residence of the lay school masters, the building was handed over by the Jesuits for some time to Dr. Edgar Miller and his wife Dr. Elizabeth Miller to run a clinic before the Shanta Bhawan Missionary Hospital was completed. Later during the early seventies the building went to the forest department after the Jesuits built new buildings to house the school masters and today the building is the Head Office of the neighbouring Botanical Gardens.

"Bahadur Bhawan" which belonged to my father General Kiran
is today the Head Office of the Botanical Gardens

These were the original buildings the school used during the first years of its opening. While the main building, Keshar Mahal, Bahadur Bhawan and the "dhobi" laundry shed next to it were offered to the Jesuits, "Nara Mahal" was actually purchased by them in 1952 A.D.

The last Rana ruler Maharajah Mohun Shumsher was wise to bestow Godavari's Rana era buildings and its expansive grounds to the Jesuits to run a school. He was leaving behind a generous legacy as an antidote to the new political order that would predictably start trashing the 104 years of Rana rule.

EDUCATING THE MASSES, MAHARAJAH JUNG BAHADUR'S LEGACY

2011-11-21T04:53:00.000-08:00

The long white two-storied stucco building perpetually casting its reflection on the Queen's Pond nearby has been standing like a beacon of hope for the multitude since I can remember. People told me that this is where my father had studied. I could only imagine him with a pride of young privileged Ranas trotting on horseback to school every morning and trotting back home every evening. I used to wonder whether the teachers then had the courage to reprimand my father and uncles just as they were already empowered by the new democratic dispensation to reprimand us less fortunate souls by the time we went to school.

Durbar High School in 1900 A.D.

Prime Minister Jung Bahadur Rana brought home from his England visit of 1850 A.D. European manners and mores soon to be reflected in the newly minted court dresses and etiquette, the opulent palaces and public places. He was also determined to give education to the Nepalese masses hitherto deprived by the Brahminical monopoly on higher level of Sanskrit studies. In the Nepal of the eighteen fifties he first started this mission by formally educating the children of privileged aristocratic families. Thus a school was started by Prime Minister Jung Bahadur Rana in 1854 A.D. in one wing of his own Thapathali Durbar which came to be known as Durbar School. English masters were brought in from Calcutta to educate the youngsters in English language, geography and mathematics. It is here that Jung's sons and nephews started their formal education. His nephews like the future Maharajahs Bir, Dev and Chandra were educated at Thapathali. Chandra was to be the first Rana in Nepal to pass matriculation.

After Maharajah Jung Bahadur's passing away in 1877 A.D. his younger brother Ranoddip Singh became the prime minister of Nepal. The durbar or court shifted from Thapathali to his residence Narayan Hiti Durbar. The school moved too. He housed the Durbar High School at the northern side of Rani Pokhari, the Newar era Queen's Pond, in a building originally conceived as a military barracks.

Maharajah Bir Shumsher finally custom-built a modern school building in 1892 A.D. in what we have come to identify today as the Durbar High School. His younger brother, the liberal minded Maharajah Dev Shumsher opened the school for the first time to the general public in 1902 A.D. In modern times the school has been renamed Bhanu Bhakta Madhyamik Vidhyalaya in tribute to Poet Laureate Bhanu Bhakta Acharya (b. 1814 A.D) who first translated the Hindu epic Ramayana from the original Sanskrit to the Nepali language making it accessible to ordinary folks. His bust is displayed in an alcove along the front school wall.

The school has recently been privatized and the children will have to bear the cost of the vagaries of capitalism, perhaps a situation not visualized by the founding father who had endowed sufficient funds for its upkeep. A recent "The Times of India" report says that for the first time the school has admitted a 13 year old transgender boy who was kicked out of his village school. Durbar High School keeps pace with the times and I imagine old Jung Bahadur chuckling to himself with satisfaction while reflecting on how he helped transform the rigid Nepalese society he encountered when he first became prime minister of Nepal.

THE SATI WIVES OF JUNG BAHADUR, MAHARAJAH OF NEPAL

2011-09-23T23:10:00.000-07:00

If only the Tudor King Henry VIII of England were as lucky as Jung Bahadur Rana, he would have had male heirs aplenty and he would not have had to behead a few of his queens in the hope of his next one presenting him with an heir. All the Maharanis would live together at Hampton Court Palace in seeming harmony at least until the death of the Maharajah. If England had the tradition of Sati, who among Henry's wives would have had the singular honour of being buried alive with him? Would her be Catherine of Aragon his first queen? Or Anne Boleyn? Or the fair Jane Seymour, his favorite queen who gave him his only male heir, had she not died in her postnatal illness?

Maharajah Jung Bahadur Rana had many wives because he did not have the Catholic Church to worry about. He had at least a dozen sons and innumerable daughters from at least 13 recorded wives. He married some for love, others for political alliances with various noble houses, including a sister of Fateh Jung Shah, one of the victims of the Kot Massacre. He is known to take away a married woman from her husband wielding his prime ministerial power as she had ignored his overtures in his less fortunate days; Jung was still smitten by her. He took another maiden as his wife in gratitude as she was his secret mistress and a spy at the royal household and had passed to him royal secrets including a not so royal plan to get rid of him. He even married an Indian princess from Coorg - a royal state in South India until the British takeover - in Varanasi on his return home from England. He also took as his lover and mistress a teenage Brahmin wife of the refuge Maratha warrior Nana Sahib, a matrimony still not consummated by her husband.

Women succumbed to a plethora of causes in the Nepal of the latter half of the nineteenth century. Tuberculosis, frequently referred to as consumption, was one of the likely killers. Then there were many infectious diseases without remedy. Postnatal care was just awful. Jung was a widower many times over. His first wife died hearbroken after the death of her first born son and his second wife died young too after giving him sons, namely Jagat Jung and Jeet Jung. His third wife Mahili Maharani, the mother of General Pudma Jung Bahadur lost her life soon after giving birth. The princess from Coorg, Ganga Maharani was recorded to have been treated by a surgeon from the British Residency in 1854 A.D. for a life threatening abscess to which she apparently succumbed to as no mention from any source tells us what happened to her.

Jung married his principle wife Bada Maharani Hiranya Garva (Sanskrit: Golden Womb)Kumari in 1853 A.D. after returning from the epochal Velayat Yatra, his visit to England at the invitation of Queen Victoria. She was a sister of Fateh Jung Shah who was the chief minister during the Kot Massacre and who lost his life from Jung Bahadur's men. She gave birth to four daughters who would later all be married to the royal princesses, Crown Prince Trailokya Bikram and his cousin Dhirendra Bikram. She was with Jung until the very end. It was she who brought up the infant son Pudma Jung when his mother died giving birth in 1857 A.D., the very same day Maharajah Jung Bahadur set out for the Lucknow campaign during the Indian Mutiny.

Maharjah Jung Bahadur with Bada Maharani and two daughters

Siddhi Gajendra Luxmi came from a noble household that of a Basnyat. Her father Prasad Singh Basnyat was an army commander. They considered the Chhetry Kunwars beneath their ranking. Jung Bahadur Kunwar had fallen into rough times with the eclipse of his maternal granduncle the famous Bhimsen Thapa. Jung was smitten by the beautiful Basnyat girl and at every opportunity he would make overtures to her for her attention. Siddhi liked Jung too but marrying a man with a family already and against the wishes of her parents was too much to ask of her. She succumbed to an arranged marriage forgetting Jung. Jung did not forget her.

After the Kot Massacre Jung Bahadur Rana became the new power behind the ambitious Queen Rajya Luxmi. As the prime minister to the Regent Queen, he became unassailable. He had his soldiers abduct the by now willing Siddhi Gajendra Luxmi from her husband and brought her to his household as his mistress. After Jung was bestowed the title of Maharajah of Kaski and Lamjung by King Surendra Bikram Shah in 1856 A.D., Siddhi was elevated to the rank of Antaree (Sanskrit: within the heart) Maharani. Jung Bahadur would beget a son Ranabir Jung from her.

Jung was busy making further alliances with the old noble houses. In 1855 A.D. he took as his wife another Shah girl, a daughter of Rana Shere Shah and a niece of his principle wife, Bada Maharani Hiranya Garva Kumari. History would know her as the Ramri Maharani, the beautiful one. His next wife was Misri Maharani, the sweet one. And still another was Mina Rani, a Magar girl, also known in history as the Dakhchoke Rani as she dwelled in that part of the Thapathali Durbar where the imported grapes were grown in the courtyard. She would later bear one son to Jung by the name of Dambar Jung.

Mina Maharani also known as
Dakhchoke Rani

After his return from England Jung Bahadur wanted to instill in his people the spirit of renaissance that had taken Europe from the Middle Ages to one of science and enlightenment. He was against the old superstitions. He was against slavery and the ghastly tradition of sati, the burning of widows in the funeral pyres of the dead husbands. But even a powerful dictator in his own lifetime could not prevail upon the rigid society of Chettry-Brahmin dominated Nepal to change its course. It would take another 50 years for Maharajah Chandra Shumsher to outlaw slavery and sati.

The year was 1877 A.D. and Maharajah Jung Bahadur was in the twilight of his illustrious career. One last time he wanted to go shooting, to indulge in his favorite pastime. He took his court to the Terai. He took along with him five wives, three senior maharanis for company and two junior wives for the needs of the night. Little did people know that he would not return to Kathmandu. He had a vision of a white tiger, was it real or imaginary? His eye sight failed him. Was it dengue fever? Just like Alexander the Great a mysterious ailment had struck Jung and the end came quickly. He breathed his last on the banks of Bagmati in Pattharghatta at the stroke of midnight on 25th February 1877 A.D. The five maharanis present prepared for sati but the senior maharani forbade the two junior wives from committing it because they had young children to look after. Writes his son and biographer General Pudma Jung, "the three maharanis who had determined to immolate themselves as suttee were repeatedly entreated to desist, but they would not go back from their decision." Bada Maharani Hiranya Garva Kumari, Antaree Maharani and Ramri Maharani were the three brave wives. History will remember them as the sati wives of Maharajah Jung Bahadur Rana of Nepal.

JUNG BAHADUR: THE MAKING OF A LEGEND

2011-09-03T05:12:00.000-07:00

It was during those hunts when Jung Bahadur would reminisce about his life and times and how it had all unfolded in those days of his struggle. It was in those very jungles he had caught wild elephants and tamed them and sold them and earned his keep after his family fortunes had taken the slide with the eclipse of his maternal grand uncle Prime Minister Bhimsen Thapa, much before Jung re-entered the Nepalese court again. Those were difficult times. In his frustration he had severely beaten his only son for not applying himself diligently to the study of Sanskrit and Persian, the only route to the top of the pyramid in Kathmandu, he knew. Unfortunately the blow had caught the lad at the back of his head from which he would never recover. The tragedy had also killed his first wife from grief. He never raised his hands against his children again, Jung brooded.

Jung Bahadur was in his element there in the jungles. He would match his wits with leopards and tigers and get the better of them. The jungle was a perfect training ground for his ascendancy in the political jungle of Kathmandu. Providence had smiled once again on the Thapa clan and on Jung Bahadur in particular after his exiled maternal uncle Mathbar Singh Thapa had been recalled from the court of Maharajah Ranjit Singh of the Punjab to head the government in Nepal as the prime minister. Jung Bahadur found himself in the retinue of the Crown Prince Surendra Bikram Shah. He knew he had to bide his time there and tolerate every whim and fancy of the wayward prince until the right moment presented itself.

Jung reflected upon the many tests he had to undergo to keep his post. His aging and aching body bore testament to the wild fancies of the prince. He had a limp, his joints hurt and his bowel movement was erratic. He had to wear his right shoe bigger than the left due to a swelling ankle, specially now during winter. He remembered how he had jumped into a deep well at the command of the prince; only the night before his aids had thrown enough bales of cotton into the well to make his landing soft. The prince was fooled. This was only just one of the smaller travails the prince had put him through, a mere appetizer before the main course!

The year was 1877 A.D. and peace had prevailed in Nepal since the Sepoy Mutiny of 1857. For twenty years Jung had consolidated his position and made Nepal strong: the only sovereign country remaining in the entire Indian subcontinent and Burma too! The British considered him a strong ally. He had organized many shoots in the Nepal Terai for dignitaries including the Prince of Wales, the very prince who had entertained Jung Bahadur during his visit to Britain back in 1850 A.D. Jung had built the civil service, the justice system and an excellent military. Jung had also gone on a drive to transform Kathmandu into a nineteenth century city boasting of splendid palaces, public parks, paved roads, well-endowed Hindu temples and Buddhist monasteries. Jung had forsaken the old Malla period architecture for more grandiose European ones. Old Thapathali Durbar was renovated and Narayan Hiti Palace was constructed for his family members. He had seen first hand how the European renaissance transformed those countries from medieval darkness into modernity based on science and technology and Jung was intent on building his own version of it for Nepal.

He was now in one of his periodic hunts with a retinue of five of his wives including the Maharani, his military and civilian aides-de-camp and a herd of two hundred elephants beating the jungle to bring out the wild animals for his shooting pleasure. The soporific gait of his magnificent male tusker Jung Prasad he was mounting made him daydream. One day Crown Prince Surendra asked him to jump from the suspension bridge into the ferocious torrent that was the Trishuli River. He could not deny the prince his sadistic pleasure but Jung quickly requested that he be allowed to jump with his horse, a request that was granted. Jung knew his horse to be a better swimmer than himself! Jung smiled and reflected on how those dare devil acts were quickly making him a legend. He had to cook up one for the ages to remember.

This opportunity was not long in coming. Crown Prince Surendra one morning dared Jung Bahadur to jump off the 250 feet tall Dharahara, the so-called Bhimsen Tower, the one of two built after the Anglo-Nepal War to mark Nepal's Pyrrhic victory over the British Raj. The other named after the Regent Queen Lalit Tripura Sundari had broken in pieces during the earthquake of 1833 A.D. Jung asked the prince's permission to fabricate himself two umbrellas to act as parachute for his jump. Permission granted the dare was quickly forgotten by the prince but not by Jung Bahadur. Rumors of his death defying stunt started circulating far and wide and there was nobody in the kingdom who would not believe that Jung had jumped from the top of Dharahara and had survived unscathed. Eye witnesses suddenly appeared who swore by this feat. Grandmothers told the story to their grand children. Jung's courage came to the notice of the Junior Queen Rajya Luxmi. Jung Bahadur had scored big.

SATI, THE FIERY DEATH UNION

2011-08-21T02:54:00.000-07:00

My most memorable encounter with the tradition of Sati was in the enchanting novel on the Raj, The Far Pavilions by M. M. Kaye. The gripping tale of Ashton (Ashok) and Princess Anjuli, of unconsummated love and a loveless marriage climaxed with Ashton shooting the terrified princess on the funeral pyre of her husband, the dead king, to save her from the agony of immolation.

The Egyptians buried alive the wives and servants of the dead Pharaohs so that they may serve their master in the afterlife. The ancient Greeks practiced the ritual of sati. It is also said to have been practiced in Ancient China. Aristobulus of Cassandreia, a Greek historian and engineer who traveled to India with the expedition of Alexander the Great, recorded the practice of sati at the great city of Taxila, now in ruins and located in western Punjab in Pakistan.

Painting of woman on funeral pyre by
James Atkinson

The tradition of Sati or Suttee came to North India in ancient times brought by the Kushan conquerors from Central Asia. In the Middle Ages the Rajputs, the descendants of the Kushans, seem to have taken up this ritual with a vengeance. There are no instances of the practice of sati in ancient Hindu societies. No mention of this barbaric rite is made in Hindu epics such as the Ramayana and the Mahabharata. There are no instances of widows of the warriors immolating themselves on the funeral pyres of their dead husbands during the definitive conflagration of its time.

There were many social compulsions as to why such an unthinkable act from today's perspective was committed throughout the ages with clockwork regularity. At times of war the womenfolk of the dead warriors would not allow themselves to be taken prisoner by their enemies for a future of abuse. In India this was often true when the winning side was Muslim warriors considered to be worse than untouchable by the high caste Rajput Hindus. Another reason is the social stigma attached to widowhood in the Hindu society. Life ended abruptly with the death of a husband. There was no second marriage, no honour to salvage but only a life of discrimination and penury awaited the unfortunate widows. It was better to die in one last fiery hurrah! Then there was filial coercion, the pressure put on by relatives on the widows to continue a time-honoured tradition considered to be an honour for the dead husband especially those coming from noble houses. Any wife not willing to commit sati would not be considered chaste but seen as a duplicitous suspect in the eyes of society. Tongues would wag. Lastly, politics would play a major role as to who would commit sati as attested to by what unfolded in Nepal 200 years ago.

Hindus of the ruling Kshetriya castes of India took refuge in the Himalayan valleys throughout the Middle Ages having lost their ground to Moslem conquerors. The ruling families of modern Nepal, the Shahs and the Ranas, came from these same roots and brought the tenets of Orthodox Hinduism to Nepal untainted, in their eyes, from the polluting influences of the Moslem conquerors.

King Rana Bahadur Shah

In the history of modern Nepal we find many instances of royal widows committing sati on the funeral pyres of their dead husbands, the famous case being that of Queen Raj Rajeshwori Devi the consort of King Rana Bahadur Shah. After the consolidation of modern Nepal by grandfather King Prithivi Narayan Shah the first great crisis to hit the dynasty can be attributed to the whimsical fancy of the spoilt baby king. When Rana Bahadur Shah came of age he was quickly married twice as per custom, firstly to Queen Raj Rajeshwori Devi a princess from Gulmi and secondly to Queen Subarna Prabha from Gorakhpur. Getting a male heir to the throne was the first imperative. The second queen produced a male heir Prince Ranoddyat but soon after King Rana Bahadur Shah was smitten by a Tirhut Brahmin widow of great beauty named Kantabati who was visiting Kathmandu Valley for the festival of Maha Shivratri. Girvana Yuddha Bikram Shah was born from this union.

Kantabati was elevated to the rank of Bada Maharani and, against the wishes of the court, Rana Bahadur named Girvana his younger son the heir to the throne. Unconvinced that his will of succession would be carried out after his death, King Rana Bahadur abdicated the throne in favor of the crown prince and a 2 year old baby Girvana Yuddha was crowned king in 1799 A.D. The old king became an ascetic in the style of Nirgunananda Swami. Senior Queen Mother Raj Rajeshwori Devi became the Regent of Nepal. Shortly thereafter in 1802 A.D. the courtiers led by Damodar Pandey the hero of the Nepal-Tibet wars prevailed upon the ex-king to exile himself to Benaras and the Queen Regent accompanied him. The Junior Queen Subarna Prabha became Regent of Nepal with the strongman of the Nepalese army Kazi Damodar Pandey firmly behind her. The junior queen would rule for 2 years 1802 -1804 A.D. until the return of the ex-king from exile.

Ex-king Rana Bahadur Shah prevailed upon the British to let him return to Nepal and take control over his lost kingdom. Damodar Pandey would lose his head and Junior Queen Subarna Prabha would be arrested and imprisoned. Queen Raj Rajeshwori returned to assume the regency. It was soon after on the 26th of April 1806 the ex-king was killed in a full Durbar by his half brother Chautariya Sher Bahadur Shah. After the death of Damodar Pandey another strongman General Bhimsen Thapa had taken control of the Nepalese army and he took this opportunity to finally rid the court of all competition. The Pandey clan had been eclipsed after the death of Damodar Pandey and the incarceration of the junior queen. The youngest wife of the ex-king Lalit Tripura Sundari was only a teenage girl but she was a grand-niece of Bhimsen Thapa and elevating her to the rank of Regent of Nepal to rule on behalf of her step-son Girvana Yuddha would be the masterstroke that would consolidate Bhimsen's power. There was only one problem remaining - the Queen Regent Raj Rajeshwori Devi.

The ancient ritual of Sati would rid the senior queen mother and her cohorts paving the way for General Bhimsen Thapa's supremacy. It is said that Bhimsen forced Queen Raj Rajeshwori Devi to commit Sati ten days after the cremation of her husband on the banks of Sali Nadi rivulet in Sundarijal on 5th May, 1806 A.D. It is such a historical anomaly that two remaining queens of King Rana Bahadur Shah, Subarna Prabha and Lalit Tripura Sundari, escaped this traumatic fate the senior queen succumbed to. While Subarna Prabha remained imprisoned, Lalit Tripura Sundari became the new Regent of Nepal. The uncontested era of Prime Minister Bhimsen Thapa dawned in Nepal. It was in no small measure to the ancient tradition of sati.

Prime Minister Bhimsen Thapa

NICK SIMONS INSTITUTE

2011-07-17T07:08:00.000-07:00

This article appeared in Dhanvantari, medical column in Nepali Times Issue #561 authored by Dr. Buddha Basnyat, MD and is published here with his special permission. I found the article inspirational and this is the second piece that appears in my blog which is not authored by me. Subodh

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When the friendly 22-year-old American Nick Simons arrived in Kathmandu in 2002 he worked for an NGO in the hydropower sector. In March 2003 he returned home to New York and told his parents, Jim and Marilyn Simons, how he had grown to love Nepal sharing with them his dream to study medicine. Before starting his mandatory premedical course in the autumn of 2003, he decided to travel to Bali where he tragically drowned while swimming.

Nick Simons

In 2006, Jim and Marilyn set up the Nick Simons Institute in Kathmandu in memory of their son to provide quality health care to people in rural Nepal. In its first five years, NSI has had a remarkable impact on training and supporting health facilities in rural Nepal. Partnering with other hospitals and organisations, NSI has helped train and support over 1,000 health care workers and 90 per cent are still working in their rural locations.

NSI has realised the importance of working with government institutions so that the impact of the program (for example, training skilled birth attendants) is more effective and widespread. Much-needed refresher courses for health workers in rural areas has met with a great deal of enthusiasm by the participants which is bound to influence patient care.

A formal anesthesia assistant course for non-doctor anesthetist developed by NSI has been welcomed because in rural areas emergency surgery is often not conducted even in the presence of a surgeon because of lack of an anesthetist. Learning to administer anesthesia is a very "hands on", technical procedure that can be competently taught in one year in a step wise manner. Many rural patients will doubtless benefit from these skillful, nurse anesthetists.

Continued medical education for many doctors in Nepal consists of drug-company sponsored evenings where an expert gives a talk followed by dinner. For the first time in Nepal, NSI has created and disseminated Nepal's continuing medical education course (Volume 1) for doctors which is very relevant and popular. Volume 2 is "in press".

NSI, by taking this untrodden path to better health in rural Nepal, has fulfilled the wish of the young Nick Simons by providing competent care to Nepalis in their own communities. On Saturday, NSI moves to its own premises in Sanepa at a ceremony to be attended by President Ram Baran Yadav.

BRONZE WARRIORS FOR EVER

2011-07-12T00:56:00.000-07:00

During my first visit to Helsinki, Finland I was intrigued to find the huge statue of Tsar Alexander II adorning the centre of Senate Square in the heart of the city. Didn't the Finns actually fight the Russians for independence? Then I remembered that, of course, Finland gained its independence during the Bolshevik Revolution in 1917 A.D. when Russia was convulsed by its civil war. Finland escaped the clutches of the Bolsheviks. A reformist Russian emperor is appreciated incongruously in a foreign country and not in his own!

What is it about revolutions that the past has to be so negated? Does one have to end history to move forward, even while this motion is at the same time making history? Or is it the certitude of history repeating itself and toppling the present protagonists from their high pedestals that these revolutionaries are so afraid of? The French Revolution devoured its own children and gave birth to the French empire under Napoleon Bonaparte. Tsar Nicholas II of Russia and his family have been beatified by the Russian Orthodox Church. In July 1998 their bodies were re-interred in the Peter and Paul Cathedral in St. Petersburg in a ceremony attended by President Boris Yeltsin, erstwhile Communist apparatchik, a mea culpa by the Soviets for the murder of the royal family. We witnessed revolutionaries vandalizing the statues of Shah kings even as statues of Malla kings adorn the ancient temple squares of Kathmandu valley's cities. "A Thing of Beauty is a Joy Forever": blissfully Prithivi Narayan Shah knew what today's misled mass does not.

Maharajah Chandra Shumsher

Maharajah Bir Shumsher

I have often wondered why the democrats and the republicans spared the Rana statues, would it be because they were so busy fighting among themselves over the loot that they forgot the feudal class is still riding horseback and keeping wary watch over their shenanigans? Or is it because secretly they too would like to have their busts displayed for public adulation? Just imagine GPK triumphant astride an Arabian stallion, MKN in a heroic pose with a flaming sword in hand and a colossal PKD clutching little books of Maoist mumbo-jumbo! The six equestrian statues of Rana prime ministers must have taken pride of place in Tundikhel, the army parade ground, in earlier times. After 1951 A.D. those statues were removed to the present obscure corners; they were relegated to the periphery of memory, confined to the margin of history.

Maharajah Jung Bahadur Rana

Prime Minister Jung Bahadur Rana's bronze equestrian statue was unveiled on the 15th of March 1854 A.D. with befitting pomp and splendour as a tribute to his historic visit to England. Originally it was located in the parade ground in front of the Bhimsen Tower, also known as Dharahara. At present it is inside the Army Headquarters compound. It is truly in a heroic mien; Jung Bahadur is turning his head back over his right shoulder to look behind even as his horse is breaking from a gallop. The composition and casting were done in England; the statue could easily be that of Alexander the Great astride his favorite Bacephalus. The statue of Maharajah Ranauddip Singh is placed at the corner of Tundikhel across the road from the General Post Office.

The statue of Prime Minister Maharajah Bir Shumsher is placed at a corner of the Army Pavilion inTundikhel just oposite the Nepal Electricity Corporation building across the road. Bir made a statue of his father Commander-in-Chief Dhir Shumsher, the only statue of an army Commander-in-Chief in Nepal, currently placed at the corner of entrance to the Army Pavilion across from Bir Hospital.

Commander-in-Chief Dhir Shumsher

Maharajah Juddha Shumsher

The equestrian statue of Maharjah Juddha is located at Tundikhel, in the corner of the Army Headquarters compound across the Bhadrakali Temple. Another statue of Prime Minister Juddha Shumsher J. B. Rana gazes from the planned city center of post-earthquake Kathmandu. The Great Earthquake of 1934 A.D. had levelled over 80%of the city's buildings with untold human casualty. For Juddha it was a traumatic initiation to power so soon after becoming prime minister. Rebuilding Nepal took the better part of his energies during the years after the earthquake and his statue was installed in tribute to the success of these efforts. A restoration of that magnitude has not been attempted ever in the history of Nepal and that too without any foreign aid!

When there is a will, there is a way.The Greek poet Agathon put it succinctly all those many years ago, "This only is denied to God: the power to undo the past". Those bronze figures from the past should be left alone for us to learn lessons of our own choosing.

Maharajah Ranauddip Singh Rana

DARJEELING'S DHIR DHAM - IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER

2011-06-27T21:39:00.000-07:00

The contours of geography and history have been abruptly truncated by political intervention in many parts of the world. I remember the West and East German divide as a prime example of what politics can do to the same people - barricade them inside their own perceived security zones and change them to the extent they become like aliens from outer space to one another. In a short span of time even language, food habits and the way people of the west and east dressed changed. There are, of course, many examples all over the world: North and South Korea and the erstwhile North and South Vietnam come to mind easily.

Darjeeling is the famous Himalayan hill station created by the British to escape the unbearable heat of the Calcutta summer. Today Darjeeling is what we drink every morning thanks to the black tea the British planted there and which they imbued to the world. To me Darjeeling has always been a fascinating example of this political intervention in our own backyard. The Nepalese community there dress like us, speak the same language a little differently from us but, glaringly, they salute another flag and stand at attention to another national anthem. How did this come about?

Regent Bahadur Shah pursued the unification drive of his father King Prithivi Narayan Shah taking the Gorkhali troops from a unified Kathmandu Valley to the eastern parts of Nepal. The ancient Kirati race ruling the roost in Kathmandu Valley at the dawn of our history had been uprooted a long time ago by the vagaries of fortune and, over many centuries, had lived in the eastern parts of Nepal in many fiefdoms, never quite re-grouping to form a large nation state. The Gorkhali armies swept across Nepal and the juggernaut reached the Bhutia kingdom of Sikkim which they conquered in 1790 A.D. The hill tribes of eastern Nepal were united under one flag for the first time in the modern era. But it was not to last long! The Gorkhali juggernaut was stopped by the more powerful forces of the British Raj and after a short war the Treaty of Sugauly was signed in 1816 A.D. under whose terms we forfeited the territories in the east from the River Mechi to the River Teesta, Darjeeling and Sikkim included.

Statue of Karna Kumari
Bada Maharani of Maharajah Dev

Maharajah Juddha Shumsher Jung Bahadur Rana was a pious man. He was grateful to the Gods for his good fortune which came in no small measure due to the compassion shown by his elder brothers in elevating him from obscurity to centre stage. He was still a minor when his father Commander-in-Chief Dhir Shumsher died. His eldest brother Bir Shumsher after gaining the prime-ministership enlisted him on the roll of succession to the Rana prime ministership. He was raised by his sister-in-law Bada Maharani Karna Kumari the wife of another brother Dev Shumsher. Juddha did not forget. He built a large statue of her in memoriam and placed it in the Jawalakhel Zoo he completed in 1932 A.D. This is the largest statue of a female in all of Nepal till today!

Dhir Dham Temple in Darjeeling, 1939

It was at this time Juddha decided to consecrate a Hindu temple for the Nepalese community of Darjeeling, a gift of devotion dedicated to his father Commander-in-Chief Dhir Shumsher Jung Bahadur Rana. Maharajah's Juddha's eldest son General Bahadur Shumsher was sent to inaugurate the temple as Dhir Dham, a sacred pilgrimage spot, in 1939 A.D. The Hindus of Darjeeling and the surrounding areas were glad to have a mirror image of faraway Pashupatinath of Kathmandu at a time when travel to Nepal was not easy. The temple similarly houses a Shiva Lingam depicting "Pancha Bakram Tri Netram" representing five different facial expressions of Lord Shiva in different moods and the third eye.

The construction of the temple was carried out by Rai Saheb Purna Bahadur Pradhan. He was probably the contractor who got the job of actually building the temple. However, reading the travel guides of Darjeeling I find neither any mention of the benefactor nor the story behind it. I hope this blog helps shed light on the reason why Dhir Dham came into existence as an umbilical cord linking the lost territories of the eastern hills to the mother country.

General Bahadur Shumsher (with jeweled head dress) seen during the consecration of Dhir Dham in Darjeeling, 1939

WHITE TIGER

2011-06-13T03:23:00.000-07:00

No, this blog is not on Maharajah Jung Bahadur Rana of Nepal although there is a famous story of the white tiger bringing the demise of Jung Bahadur during his last shoot in 1877 A.D. This story is about white tigers. White tigers have about them mysticism linked to their rarity. There is some other-worldliness about them that captivates peoples' imagination.They appear frequently in myths and legends. There are also numerous books titled The White Tiger, the recent one being Arvind Adiga's Booker Prize winning novel. An old classic on Nepalese history written by Diamond Shumsher Rana, Seto Bag, was later translated by Greta Rana into English titled Wake of the White Tiger. But in this story I am writing about the white tigers carrying the recessive genes subduing the rich golden pelt and making it alabaster white. They are not albinos. White tigers grow bigger than normal ones.

I begin with a hunt, a Shikar, my father organized for Ralph S. Scott, big game hunter and one of the richest men in America. Back in 1966 when tiger shooting was still allowed in Nepal under license, my father had a Shikar company aptly name "Nepal Shikar Pvt. Ltd.", a special favour King Mahendra granted his retired Army Chief. In retirement he took to organizing tiger hunts for rich hunters from Europe and America
both as a business and as a pastime.

Prince Basundhara of Nepal, Ralph Scott, General Kiran, Shanti Rana, Jagdish Shumsher Rana

I was fortunate to be part of this particular hunt as it fell during my winter vacation from school. My excitement knew no bounds as we packed for the shoot in Nawalpur, a veritable paradise for big game hunting at the time. With me were my childhood friends Mohun Lal and Narendra Khadka which made the trip even more fun to me. Camping along the banks of the Narayani the shikar party grouped. There was catering from Boris Lissanevitch, the founder of the hospitality industry of Nepal. Luxurious tents were pitched; a generator was at hand to provide electricity, a Fridge burning kerosene made it possible to serve ice cubes with drinks every evening. In 1966 in a Nepal slowly waking up from its deep, self-induced slumber the camp was an epitome of five-star hospitality.

Mohun, Narendra, Rakshya, Subodh, Sudarshan

Ralph S. Scott was in his sixties already, an accomplished businessman who had done well in life and was addicted to big game hunting in Africa and India. This was his first shoot in Nepal although he had bagged his tigers in India. He showed us his photo albums from his estate at Bal Harbor, Florida. He raised two white tigers as pets that he had purchased from India. The dichotomy of keeping tigers as pets and shooting them for pleasure at the same time was lost on us then; those were the days before celebrities took saving the panda or the dolphin or the whale as cause célèbre. Mad hunters mellow with age and become conservationists. An example was my father General Kiran Shumsher who bagged 24 tigers in his youth and later in life became a founding member of Nature Conservation Society of Nepal. Hunters conserve because without the animals there is no hunting. Ralph S. Scott too embraced conservation big time as this story demonstrates.

The first white tiger documented to be living in the jungles was caught in the jungles of Bandhavgarh, Madhya Pradesh, India in 1951 by the Maharajah of Rewa, Martand Singh. He named the nine month old cub Mohun or "enchanter", one of the many names of the Hindu God Krishna in the hope Mohun would also go after the gopinis, his female escorts. He was successful in breeding white tigers by mating the white male with regular females. White tigers became much sought after by circuses and zoos.Ralph S. Scott was instrumental in taking the white tigers to America from India. He had acquired one of the male offspring of Mohun named Sampson from the Maharajah of Rewa in 1959 and he was raising this tiger at home. A daughter of Mohun named Mohini, the enchantress, was later gifted by the Government of India to the USA in 1960 and Scott made the arrangements for the official presentation to President Dwight D. Eisenhower at the White House. Mohini went to the National Zoo in Washington D.C. As the zoo could not acquire a male white tiger, Scott gifted his own Sampson to the National Zoo to mate with Mohini.

Mohini the white tigress, picture courtesy of

Mr. Paul McCarthy

Scott acquired his second white tiger from the Maharajah of Rewa, this time a half-sister of Mohini named Princess in 1968 for an astronomical sum of US$ 35,000.00. Scott donated her to the Zoological Society of Florida and the society kept her at the Crandon Park Zoo. It is said that the actor Jimmy Stewart disclosed at one of the episodes of the Johnny Carson Show that he was acquiring a white tiger from the Maharajah of Rewa. Watching the show was Ralph Scott who felt cheated out of his tiger. A bidding war erupted and Scott won by offering a princely ransom of US$ 45,000.00 for the male called Raja. He wanted to make sure this male would mate with the female Princess at the Florida zoo. However, it was not to be. Princess died of an unknown cause just a few weeks after Raja arrived from India. Heartbroken Scott got an Indian taxidermist to stuff Princess full body length and gifted it to the Museum of Science in Miami in 1972.

Back to the hunt in Nepal - Scott never bagged his tiger. He did shoot one, a great big male tiger, as I witnessed it from the machan platform he was on, but the tiger leaped over the vith, wall of white cloth surrounding the zone of the tiger, before he could fire another shot and disappeared. In hindsight I can say that this was a fitting finale to the hunt where I learnt so much about white tigers and now I have come to learn of the passion Ralph S. Scott had for tiger conservation and breeding.

ABSOLUTION FOR HIS BROTHER'S SINS

2011-06-06T03:22:00.000-07:00

Kathmandu, 14th September, 1846 A.D.
The Kot Massacre was a defining moment in Nepal's history. It healed long festering sores in one giant act of cauterizing. It was a free for all: unrehearsed, un-umpired, unpredictable, just like sometimes we hope the televised WWE wrestling matches would be but are not. Ancient noble houses were swept away and royalty lost its luster. The cleansing was complete. The period of instability was over forever. The last man standing was Bir Narsingh Kunwar: brave, vainglorious, resolute. He would shape Nepal in his own image for the next one hundred years by taking the title of Jung Bahadur Rana, borrowed from the glorious tradition of Rajputana.

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Jagat Shumsher Rana was the second youngest brother of Jung summoned to the palace that fateful night by the heinous sound of the nagara bells that tolled the fury of the queen gone berserk. Her paramour Gagan Singh, the shadow behind the queen regent, detested and despised by the rest of the court, was dead; shot by an unknown assassin. The queen wanted to find out who had done it and exact revenge so severe that eons would remember.

The nineteen year old Jagat, rudely awakened from a deep slumber, jumped out of bed and dressed in khaki quickly and peeked through his window to find the empty streets of the night now a bedlam of barking dogs, neighing horses and yelling retainers. Presently a summons came from his elder brother Jung Bahadur to make haste and meet him at the Hanuman Dhoka Royal Palace fully armed. Jung had already left. From Lagan Tole their residence it would take a good ten minutes to ride to the royal palace; there was no time to waste! Quickly other shadows joined him until he grew more confident in the numbers; six of his brothers had by now grouped together and were on their way.

Jung Bahadur Rana and his six brothers

Queen Rajya Luxmi was standing in the Kot the Courtyard of the Armoury with a drawn sword in her hand. She was shrieking at the gathered courtiers incoherently and asking for the name of the murderer of her paramour. Jung was already there and standing behind the queen he was surveying the landscape for any eventuality. Jagat and his brothers joined him. The queen was addressing her agitation to the assemblage including Prime Minister Fatteh Jung Shah, Chautariya Dalmardhan Shah and General Abhiman Singh Rana Magar. The focus of her ire was Bir Kishore Pande, a member of the Council, the person suspected of carrying out the murder due to a personal enmity with the deceased but without any evidence produced before the court. He denied any wrongdoing vociferously and begged for justice from the court. The Queen summarily wanted to behead Pande with her own raised sword but Fatteh Jung and Jung Bahadur held her back.

News came that the battalion under General Abhiman Singh was on its way to the court. Jung alerted the queen and told her that it was not safe for her. General Abhiman at this point wanted to leave the court but was prevented from doing so by a guard. An altercation followed and the general was bayoneted to death. Alarmed by the turn of events the son of Prime Minister Fatteh Jung, Khadga Bikram, accused Jung and his brothers of the assassination of Gagan Singh. Sword drawn he rushed at Krishna Jung, a younger brother of Jung and struck him. Shielding himself Krishna raised his arm and lost his thumb. Bom Bahadur the second brother of Jung was struck on his head by Khadga cutting a deep gash before he could draw his own sword from the scabbard. A general melee followed. Jagat glimpsed his younger brother Dhir cut the assailant down. At this point Jung's soldiers burst into the courtyard and started shooting. It is recorded that 58 persons in total lost their lives that night including the prime minister.

Jagat Shumsher Rana

Over 30 year had passed since that fateful night. Jagat Shumsher clearly recalled the assassination of Prime Minister Mathbir Singh Thapa by his brother Jung Bahadur. Walls still whispered that it was Jung who did Gagan Singh in, Ram Janay! Providence had made them survive the Kot Massacre. Now his family was unassailable. His elder brother Ranauddip Singh was the prime minister. Jagat was promoted to the post of the Commander of the garrison stationed at Patan. Jagat was an artist at heart. Although he had led his forces into Tibet in the campaign he did not have the fighting spirit of his younger brother Dhir. Jagat felt more at home amidst the Malla era templescape of the city called Eternity Itself. But he still felt ill at ease in his great fortune, his mind still troubled and restless.

Jagat knew that retribution for all the sins of his brother Jung would come if not in this life then in next. Jagat wanted to build a temple and seek absolution. He located grounds along the Bagmati River at Sankhamul and constructed the gorgeous Jagat Narayan Temple in Shikara-style that still stands today, a poignant reminder of the love of the pious Jagat for his brother Maharajah Jung Bahadur Rana.

Jagat Narayan Temple, Sankhamul, Patan

THE MAHARAJAH'S RETREAT

2011-05-18T07:48:00.000-07:00

Maharajah Juddha's Manor House

I am writing about the time Bodhnath was the only structure standing and miles around it there was free space and farming land. Somewhere in the vicinity people say was the storied Kailash Kuti Bhawan, the palace of the Licchavi rulers of Nepal. It was from this palace that King Amsuvarma had given his daughter Bhrikuti in marriage to the Tibetan king. The Chinese chronicler Huen Tsang arriving in the Kathmandu Valley in the 7th century praised it as the most magnificent building he had seen, a remarkable observation coming from someone who arrived on his pilgrimage from Xian, the capital of the Middle Kingdom and the most opulent city in the whole world at the time. What became of the palace one can only conjecture but whatever might have happened to it did not happen to the magnificent Bodhnath Stupa gathering a million dew drops on its wide dome to quench the thirst of the drought afflicted populace as legend has us believe.

Even in the sixties Bodhnath was standing tall with its golden spire glistening in the morning light for people to behold and be blessed from miles around it. The exiled Tibetans had made it their focal point of national longing. Although the Dalai Lama had made Dharamshala in India his abode, many other spiritual leaders and incarnate lamas made Bodhnath their spiritual Mecca. Lama Yeshey came here from Darjeeling with a newly ordained monk, the American erstwhile actress and hippie Zina Rachevsky.

Recently I had the unexpected pleasure of visiting the sanctuary where Zina and the Lama made their home while planning the project of building the Kopan Monastery. Teenchuli Durbar as it was known was the retreat of Maharajah Juddha Shumsher of Nepal. Located at a commanding vantage point the maharajah could secure the blessing of Bodhnath every morning during his prayers even as his soldiers could secure him from worldly adversaries. Juddha had acquired the property from a langada karnel, a lame colonel, who had built the main structure in 1859 A.D. that is still extant today.
Perhaps the colonel was a war hero who returned with Prime Minister Jung Bahadur Rana from the Mutiny with the proverbial Lucknow loot. Could he have been the legendary Colonel Gambir Singh Rayamajhi who single-handedly captured an enemy cannon though severely wounded?

Langada Karnel's house built in 1859 A.D.

Probably derelict and decrepit by the sixties I can imagine why the property attracted Zina and her Lamas. The wide expanse of the grounds with its main manor house built by Juddha, his cow sheds, horse stables, garages for cars and an enigmatic structure with three turrets but of no useful function conceivable from which the durbar got its name, was a perfect hideaway for meditation and from prying eyes. And Bodhnath was close by.

Others equally fascinating have used the property in its long journey to the custody of the present owners. One tenant would not allow even a bag of cement to come inside the property, so well enamoured was she by the brick and mud walls 3 ft. deep, by the wooden floors and beamed ceilings. Another tenant was Tom Pritzker who stayed there incognito perhaps planning for the big hotel nearby until people found out that he was the chairman of Hyatt Corp. and listed in Forbe's Fortune 500! The present owners want to develop a hotel there too and Oh! what a jolly good idea! With 33 ropanis of land the property would offer ample space for a mid-size heritage hotel with a perfect mix of Rana history and Buddhist spiritualism. It could one day replace the storied Kailash Kuti Bhawan of the Licchavi rulers as one of the awesome landmarks in the valley.

Teenchuli, what was its function?

BERLIN ALEXANDERPLATZ

2011-04-06T07:30:00.000-07:00

I could not have even dreamed that I would visit a wall-less Berlin in a reunited Germany in my lifetime. Conventional wisdom told us that short of a Nuclear Holocaust the Wall was there to stay - just like the Greyness, the Stasi and Honecker of GDR. How ironical that the International Tourism Bourse more famously known as ITB, the world's largest showcase on travel and tourism, was organized in West Berlin every year in the month of March while just a stone's throw away Berliners in the east could not even cross over the Wall to the west, far less travel to exotic destinations around the world!

I remember crossing over to the east of the city in my earlier visits to West Berlin. A Nepalese gentleman married to a Polish lady and living on the other side of the wall played host. He was working for Siemens and enjoying the best of both worlds! For all its dullness East Berlin was inexpensive and earning the mighty Deutsch Mark while spending it in the east was an assured way to riches. I visited him along with my nephew by getting a day pass at Checkpoint Charlie to not only marvel at the historical center of the old city but to also juxtapose its underachievement with the affluence of its western part.

Berlin Alexanderplatz was the city's heart then misleadingly carrying the name of the Russian Czar Alexander I in tribute to an opulent era long gone by but was actually built more in the dour image of the Soviet cities such as Moscow. At the end of WWII the whole city was turned into rubble as the Soviet Red Army took over the city from die-hard Nazis in house-to-house fighting. Imperial capital of Germany was eventually re-built by the victorious Soviets in an euphoria of Socialist Triumphalism. The 365 m. high TV Tower was built as one of the largest and most prestigious structure in Europe with a revolving restaurant on its crown. The World Time Structure (Weltzeituhr) kept time of almost all capitals of the world in anticipation perhaps of the eventuality of the world going Communist, one time zone after another. The Fountain of International Friendship reminded citizens that the Soviet Union was GDR's best friend among the socialist fraternity. Brandenburg Gate was where the wall happened, bisecting Berlin with a scalpel-like incision. The "Gate of Peace" commissioned by Kaiser Friedrich Wilhelm II in 1791 was ironically the dividing line between the East and West Berliners warring over mindless ideology. Unter den Linden, the avenue lined by Linden trees, was the showcase of Socialist renaissance one again as it was in Hitler's Nazi Germany.

It was a pleasant surprise to me that during my recent visit to Berlin for another installment of the famous ITB tourism fair, I was staying in a hotel not far from Alexanderplatz. The square was redeveloped after Berlin commissioned a competition among its architects to beautify it. Capitalism's competing commercialism has lifted the city out of its former greyness. Right at the square itself there is a huge shopping mall named Galeria and next to it a C&A Department Store. One does not notice policemen any more, the GDR's teeming militia are no doubt more gainfully employed in capitalism's rough and tumble enterprises. For a visitor witnessing these changes after a gap of a decade I can say that Berlin Alexanderplatz has come a long way in reclaiming its prideful place in the cityscape.

THE RIVERS OF MY MIND

2011-03-08T04:41:00.000-08:00

Sunset at Prayag, India

I remember the time I bathed in the Triveni as a kid. This is the holy confluence or sangam of Ganga, Jamuna and the mythical Saraswati flowing from under and meeting those two real-life rivers near the town of Prayag later aptly named Allahabad, City of God, by Islamic conquerors. A bath here would merit us Hindus entry into heaven and the ritual was timely as my mother would pass away soon after. It is here that in 2001 in the Maha Kumbh Mela 60 million devotees thronged to take a dip making this the largest gathering of humanity in the history of the world!

I am reminded of the sangam whenever I come across another awesome river during the course of my travel. The Brahmaputra is one such. Flowing from its source at Mount Kailash in Tibet, the river traverses pristine across the breadth of the Tibetan plateau north of Nepal. I have crossed it to reach Samye Monastery, one of the venerated Buddhist pilgrimage sites of Tibet. The journey is immensely spiritual and complemented by the breathtaking beauty of the landscape.

Sailing on the Nile

I sailed the Nile with my wife and daughter for three days and three nights. The journey commenced at Aswan, site of Nasser's famous dam, and we traversed through much of Egyptian history from Tutmoses, to Ramses to Alexander the Great as Pharaoh. We ended the cruise at modern day Luxor, the ancient Egyptian capital known as Thebes, wondering how the ancients managed to create those impossible monuments and how impossibly time and tide destroyed them. We were inspecting artifacts older than Mahabharat, marvelling at a culture perhaps as old as human history itself. Spirituality leaps from every statue whether it is of Horus, Set, Osiris or Iris. Ancient Egyptians must have been in total awe of those powerful deities.

European rivers may not offer the same degree of spirituality but they are the lifeblood of commerce. Thames, Danube and Vistula gave rise to great cities in their course and we enjoy the romance of sailing on them and admiring the cityscape all around us. Oh, to watch the Vltava River flow languidly by the city of Prague and to enjoy on its bank the best beer in the world!

But now, inevitably, we must talk about our rivers the Bagmati, Vishnumati and Manahara. As late as in November 1983 during the low tide, when my father was cremated in Arya Ghat on the banks of the Bagmati in a military funeral, we sons took the ritual dip in the cool, gurgling water flowing waist high after the cremation was over. Shooting ducks in the Manahara was one of my winter vacation escapades during schooling days. Vishnumati flowed by the holy Shobha Bhagabati Temple providing succor to the devotees. The valley could only be described as verdant; paddy fields dotting the landscape as far as the foothills in all directions and with thick vegetation growing on either bank of the rivers.

Bagmati River

What is happening today? Kathmandu is an over-crowded, unplanned city expanding helter-skelter with nary a thought for beauty and harmony. Our rivers have been converted to open sewers. Vishnumati has been humiliated by unchecked garbage dumping that attracts scavenging crows and vultures. The River Gods have long abandoned the valley. Will the Biblical Four Horsemen visit us bringing war, conquest, famine and pestilence in their wake?

IN THE BELLY OF THE BEAST

2011-02-08T06:56:00.000-08:00

The National Geographic Magazine has always been my favorite print medium for gaining insight into vanishing cultures, insular societies and natural phenomena that blow your mind. A combination of precise writing and award-winning photography brought these wonderful worlds to our living room before cable TV took over. I was curious when we got a call from Lisa Choegyal informing us that a correspondent from Natgeo wanted to interview my father. The year was 1982 and I had returned to Nepal from Europe with my recently-married wife just a year earlier. What was the subject of the interview I enquired? True to Natgeo form they wanted to interview father on one of the rarely performed sacred Hindu religious rituals.

Emperor Babur hunting rhinos

The One-horned Indian Rhinoceros is one of the few mammals surviving today that has the look of a prehistoric creature a million years old. Chitwan or Chitta-bana, the heart of the jungle, located in the Nepal Terai is the natural habitat of these magnificent beasts. The depleting number and valuable "horns" of the rhino worked in its favor as they ensured that the rulers of Nepal would not allow these beasts to be hunted and killed indiscriminately. Poaching was punishable by a heavy penalty. The rhino was a game animal even more prized than the Royal Bengal Tiger and thus reserved only for the rulers of Nepal and their VVIP royal guests.
Albert Edward the Prince of Wales, later to ascend the British throne as King Edward VII, was here to hunt the rhino in 1876 A.D. as guest of Maharajah Jung Bahadur Rana and so was King Emperor George VI here in 1911 A.D. as guest of Maharajah Chandra Shumsher Rana. The latter shot 8 rhinos in 10 days.

Prince of Wales hunting with Maharaja Jung Bahadur

We Hindus perform the death ritual known as Shraddha, the living paying obeisance to their dear departed father, mother and grandparents by offering the pinda, balls of rice as token of our eternal gratitude. The Shraddha is performed annually in the latter half of the month of September when the harvesting is done and before we celebrate the plentitude during Dashera, we offer food to the dead spirits. In the epic Mahabharata the King Yudhistir
asks the wise Pitamah Bhisma what would be the most fitting offerings to the spirits of the dead ancestors during Shradda. The wise one enumerates a whole range of offerings including cereals and meats and for the specific period these would satisfy the dead. In the age before our current Kali Yuga even flesh was offered as pinda, including that of the holy cow! At last Bhisma tells Yudhistir definitively that the flesh of the rhinoceros offered during Shraddha would be the most meritorious and would satisfy the spirits for eternity. Hindu kings and aristocracy followed this cue and probably took this tradition a step further by giving tarpan or offerings from inside the carcass of the dead rhino.

The year was 1953 A.D. and my father General Kiran Shumsher had made elaborate preparations for King Tribhuvan's hunt in the Nepal Terai. As Commander-in-Chief of the Nepalese army the responsibility fell on his shoulders to look after all logistics. King Tribhuvan had taken over the throne of Nepal in 1951 A.D. following a short exile, the Rana oligarchy had been overthrown and the king had come of his own. This was the first royal hunt the king would enjoy as sovereign and not under the tutelage of the ruling Ranas. I remember my father recalling what happened on the eve of the departure of the King. The previous night he got a call from King Tribhuvan and he was informed that the king was unable to proceed to the hunt due to some political exigency and he generously commanded father to proceed by himself and make use of the royal camp lest all the elaborate preparations made be in vain.

It was during this hunt that my father bagged a rhinoceros. It was an ambition of his to perform tarpan too just as his father Maharajah Juddha Shumsher had performed this ritual. The rhino was cleaned of its entrails and preparations for the puja made. My father, clad in the pure white dhoti loin cloth and the janai sacred thread around his body, entered the belly of the beast and amidst Vedic chanting by the assembled Brahmin priests offered blood tarpan to his father, mother and our ancestors. This was the story covered by National Geographic Magazine all those many years ago. Who might have performed such a ritual in Nepal after my father? Who else other than H.M. King Birendra would be able to perform such an impossible ritual in the modern era? After having shot a rhino the previous day, on 9 January 1981 the king entered the carcass of a disemboweled rhino on the banks of the River Rapti and offered the blood tarpan to his father King Mahendra and to his ancestors. This was recorded to be the last time such a sacred ritual was performed. Indeed, the vanishing world of esoteric cults such as this one has been documented by National Geographic Magazine for posterity and we are much the wiser for it!

FEATHERS IN THE CROWN

2011-01-23T19:11:00.000-08:00

As a kid I used to gape in wonderment at the magnificent crown my father possessed not knowing that the jewels were only for show. The dark green emerald drops were made of glass, the sparkling diamonds were probably zirconium and the pearls were not of the best sort. Every Rana general had his personal crown in those days and my father was no exception. I did not recognize the difference between this personal crown of father's and the other more valuable crown of the Nepalese Commander-in-Chief of the Army that my father was seen wearing in many a portrait displayed about the house. Little did I know that my father was the last person to put on his head the army chief's crown from the Rana era, real glittering diamonds, snow white pearls and thumb-sized emerald drops and all. The feather in the crown was the magnificent plumes of the Bird of Paradise that gave it such a majestic look.

Nepal had only three crowns that were genuinely the real stuff bedecked with expensive pearls, diamonds and drop emeralds bordering the rim: the King's crown, the Rana Prime Minister's crown and the Army Commander-in-Chief's crown. The innumerable other crowns decorating the heads of a multitude of Rana army "nomenclature" as clearly seen in photographs of those times were crowns with the real bird-of-paradise plumes stuck to them but with ersatz diamonds, pearls and emerald drops. When every bonafide Rana general had such a crown it is but obvious that the Nepalese economy of the time could not have sustained paying for the real stuff. They were somewhat like fool's gold.

The writer Desmond Doig thus describes the king's royal crown during King Birendra's Coronation Ceremony in 1975 A.D., "No other crown could be so fantastically devised, so priceless. It is a glitter of closely set diamonds and pearls, hung with drop rubies and emeralds the size of plums and atop it, clasped by more diamonds, is a cascade of bird-of-paradise plumes". The crown had been last repaired during the coronation of King Birendra's father King Mahendra in 1956 A.D. As trading in the famous plumes were already banned, the Americans came to the rescue of the crown by shipping to Nepal plumes that had been confiscated by the U.S. Customs!

I have got on display two portraits of my family members hanging in my drawing room juxtaposed with each other wearing the crown of the Commander-in-Chief of the Nepalese Army - that of my great grandfather Commander-in-Chief Dhir Shumsher Jung Bahadur Rana, 1879-1884 A.D. and my father Commander-in-Chief Kiran Shumsher Jung Bahadur Rana, 1951-1956 A.D. This particular crown went to the state after my father retired from the army never to adorn another Nepalese head, as the army uniform and headgear were changed reflecting the more austere and less ostentatious times that followed the advent of "democracy a la 1951".

Gen. Dhir Shumsher

Gen. Kiran Shumsher

The Bird of Paradise is found in New Guinea. An endangered species today, the birds are highly prized and bred in many parts of the world for its gorgeously beautiful plumes. These plumes somehow found their way to the crowns of the Nepalese Shah Kings and Rana rulers from mid-nineteenth century until monarchy was abolished in Nepal recently. It has always been a mystery how these plumes were traded across miles and miles of oceans and how they ended up in Nepal embellishing the Nepalese crowns.

It was my good fortune to make connections with an expert on the Bird of Paradise Stephanie Xatart introduced to me by Bernadette Vasseux, Nepal's true friend affiliated with the French Embassy. Stephanie had just concluded her trip to Papua New Guinea for her research on the birds and was passing through Nepal on the way back to Paris, her home. She was most intrigued by how the plumes of those rare birds got to be the feathers in the crown of the Nepalese court. Due to my blog on Nepalese history she contacted me for some insight but to her disappointment and my chagrin, I did not know the answer. From where and when did the plumes come? I was intrigued. I set to find out.

The bird-of-paradise plumes were traded as early as the 16th Century when Spanish explorers landed ashore New Guinea and the surrounding islands. Locals had used these plumes for decorating dresses and headgear from time immemorial. The wide variety of plumes of every hue and size exhibited by some 40 species of these birds in the family of Paradisaeidae gave rise to a flourishing millinery trade putting these birds at great risk of extinction. These plumes were exported to decorate the hats of the stylish European ladies catering to their vanities. These plumes subsequently made it to the tiaras and coronets of European royalty.

Queen Marie-Christine of Spain with the plumes

According to historian Percival Landon the bird-of-paradise feathers were first introduced in the Nepalese crowns by Mathbar Singh Thapa after he was recalled from the court of Maharajah Ranjit Singh of the Punjab by Queen Rajya Laxmi and was asked to lead the Nepalese government as prime minister in 1843 A.D. Mathbar had fallen afoul of the Nepalese court after the fall of his uncle Prime Minister Bhimsen Thapa and his eventual suicide in captivity. He had chosen to seek asylum in the court of the Punjab. It was in the Punjab that Mathbar must have been introduced to the millinery traders catering to the ladies of the British Raj.

What happened to the crowns of the Rana prime minister and the army chief is now open to conjecture. Were they stripped off their valuable jewelry and those gems either sold for tidy sums or re-used in new ornaments? The last we saw of the king's crown was during the accession ceremony of King Gyanendra in 2001 at Nasal Chowk, Hanuman Dhoka. I have read that the crown is not on display at the Narayanhiti Palace Museum, possibly due to lack of adequate security arrangements. There was a news item that came into limelight in 2006 that a royal crown of Nepal was auctioned by a private collector at Bonham's in London for GB₤ 70,000.00. Could the crown be that of the Rana prime minster or army chief? It is a great pity that those historical crowns are not on display at our National Museum. Are these treasures lost for ever?

King Gyanendra at his accession with the royal crown

ALLURING TALES OF PATRIOTISM

2010-12-30T02:11:00.000-08:00

It is only but natural that the Nepalese people are looking for a strong leader at a time of current vacuous leadership. Our present times must have had similarities in our history particularly after the demise of Prime Minister Bhimsen Thapa and before the rise of Prime Minister Jung Bahadur Rana. The present scenario of our bickering troika of political parties jostling for ascendancy reminds me of the highly destabilized period following the eclipse of the powerful Bhimsen. The troika of a toothless King Rajendra, an ambitious Queen Rajya Laxmi and an irresponsible Crown Prince Surendra had pushed Nepal to the brink after they started to pull the reigns of powers themselves. The cacophony of noise emanating from the palace had bewildered the masses just as the discordant sound bites emanating from our political leaders have imperiled the future of our nation today. We see no purpose.

Jung Bahadur Rana took control of Nepal at the nick of time and had by 1850 A.D., a mere four years later, secured the nation a pride of place among the erstwhile kingdoms of North India already largely under colonial rule. He ensured that Nepal remained an independent, sovereign, Hindu monarchy. History hasn't done justice to his contributions simply because its trajectory tore his own family asunder and, after 1951 A.D., for political reasons Rana rule was demonized as an epitome of family "kleptocracy".

A revival of interest in Jung Bahadur's persona began a few years back with his scattered family members grouping together to perform an annual Shraddha in his name. There are plans afoot to make a docu-drama about Jung Bahadur's life for the small screen where more contributors than just his family members are involved. It is interesting to note that certain historical anecdotes have come to light recently that bear testimony to Jung Bahadur's strength of character, his patriotism and his considerable diplomatic skills. I recently had the privilege of sitting down with a prominent Nepalese historian who had been granted special scholarship by the British Government to study documents relating to Anglo-Nepal relationships during the Raj. He poured over thousands of documents and concluded that Prime Minister Jung Bahadur Rana played a unique role in keeping the country independent and his often times Machiavellian statecraft always ensured the interest of Nepal first and foremost.

Brian Hodgson

The documents shed light on Jung's relationship with the elderly and by then retired Brian Hodgson who was living in Darjeeling. Brian Hodgson was a multi-lingual civil servant in British India and he was a renowned ethnologist and anthropologist. Since arriving in Nepal in 1819 A.D. as assistant commissioner in the recently set up British Residency under the terms of the Treaty of Sugauly, he did a lot of research on Nepal's birds and mammals and published authoritative books on the subject that are still used by researchers today. He became the British Resident in 1833 A.D. Hodgson took a local Kashmiri Muslim girl as his wife and bore two children. Few today know that the Raqi Bazaar in Asan Tole is actually the (I)raqi bazaar where Muslim traders sold glass bangles. Having taken a local girl from this community as his wife, Hodgson had a soft corner for Nepal. Hodgson was Jung Bahadur's mentor and his medium for unofficial dialogues with the British Raj. A grateful Jung Bahadur even presented Hodgson's son from his Kashmiri Muslim wife to Queen Victoria during Jung's visit to England.

What follows are some snippets of the alluring tales of Jung Bahadur's patriotism unearthed in the tomes of papers from those times.

* When the British requested Nepal for help during the Sepoy Mutiny, Jung cleverly asked the old and retired British Resident Brian Hodgson to calculate how much Nepal had lost in land revenue since the British took away huge swathes of Nepalese territories after the Treaty of Sugauly. When the figure was calculated, Jung sent this to Lord Canning the Governor General requesting reparation. The amount was so high that it was impossible for the British to pay us and instead promised to give back Kailali, Kanchanpur, Banke and Bardia after the mutiny.

* At the start of Jung's visit to Great Britain in 1850 A.D., upon arrival at Southampton he and his retinue were informed that they would be subjected to customs check. Jung angrily refused to allow the checking of "an Ambassador and Plenipotentiary of the Sovereign King of Nepal" and threatened that if he and his retinue were checked, he would turn around and head for France. The Customs officials finally relented.

* His official visit to Queen Victoria's Durbar was delayed by two hours as Jung would not budge without the Rishallah horse riders (comparable to the modern day outriders) accompanying his carriage, an honour bestowed on foreign heads of state, as Jung maintained that he was representing the Sovereign King of Nepal.

Sir Colin Campbell

* During the Sepoy Mutiny in India where Jung Bahadur Rana personally led the Nepalese troops to Lucknow in support of the beleaguered British forces, a debate arose over who should lead the troops to the front, General Sir Colin Campbell the British Commander-in-Chief or Jung Bahadur. Not one to back down easily, Jung maintained that, as Prime Minister of Nepal and Commander-in-Chief of the Nepalese forces, he had higher rank than General Campbell and so he should be leading the troops during attack. But the British had their own rules pertaining to warfare. The controversy ended when it was mutually agreed that Sir Campbell would lead in battle but Jung Bahadur would lead and get the first salute when they returned to the headquarters.

* Several years after the Indian Mutiny and the consolidation of Great Britain's power as the governing authority in India, it was decided by the British Crown to create a new order of knighthood to honour Indian Princes and Chiefs, as well as British officers and administrators who served in India. Prime Minister Jung Bahadur Rana was one of the recipients of this highest order. After Jung received the Order of the Knight Grand Commander of the Star of India in 1873 A.D. he went to collect the medal from Viceroy Lord Northbrook in Calcutta the following year. He was given only 17 guns salute and not 19 guns given to him earlier as the plenipotentiary of the King of Nepal during the visit to England, probably at the instigation of jealous Indian princess. Jung was furious. Back in Kathmandu he wrote to Brian Hodgson to write to London saying that he would return the decoration if the British government did not apologize. This letter was found in the archives.

Viceroy Lord Northbrook

* When Jung attacked Tibet, British India asked him why they were not informed. He sent a letter to diplomatically suggest that Britain never informs one of their greatest friends and well-wishers - Jung Bahadur of Nepal - when they attack another country, so he did not see much sense in informing Britain.

* Actually Jung's second visit to Britain came to an end in Bombay not because he fell off his horse and was injured as reported to Nepal, but because the British did not grant him a visa! The real reason was that they realized Jung was a nationalist and would always put the interest of Nepal first and his friendship with Britain was tactical. The British decided not to cultivate him further.

The stories behind the making of such a legendary figure are many. I have done my modest part in tribute by documenting whatever there is to document besides the historical Jung Bahadur we are familiar with. We Nepalese are hankering for a Jung Bahadur befitting our present age! We all wish that Nepal can produce one.

CLASH OF CIVILIZATIONS

2010-12-08T18:08:00.000-08:00

Little did the Nepalese conscripts in the Gurkha regiments of British India know that they would fight and die in foreign shores as far away as the Turkish peninsula of Gallipoli during World War I. The Treaty of Sugauly had ended the short Anglo-Nepal Wars in 1816 A.D. and the British had wrested the right to conscript the hardy mountains soldiers of Nepal into the newly formed Gurkha Regiments of British India. World War I saw the British, French and Russian Empires pitted against the German, Austro-Hungarian and the Ottoman Empires. With Russia cut off from the west and Imperial Russia on the brink of collapse having suffered defeat in its western front, the western allies wanted to secure the link from the Mediterranean Sea to the Black Sea to supply Russia but the Turks at Istanbul were blocking the Bosphorus. British and French troops attacked Gallipoli to occupy Istanbul. The 1st Battalion of the 6th Gurkha Rifles were the main attacking force. Turkey eventually prevailed with great loss of lives on both sides.

A quick check in Wikipedia lists this entry: The 1st Battalion had the distinction of being the first Gurkha unit to arrive at Gallipoli landing at Cape Helles on 25 April 1915.[5] Their first major operation saw them attack an Ottoman position that was doing significant damage to Allied forces with machine guns—this involved them going up a 300 foot (91 metre) vertical slope which had defeated both the Royal Marine Light Infantry and the Royal Dublin Fusiliers—however, the Gurkhas gained the position with ease.[6] Eighteen Gurkhas were killed in this action and another forty-two were wounded. For their sacrifice, this area is now known as Gurkha Bluff.[7]

During my recent visit to Turkey I could not help but marvel at the long history of Christianity and Islam this land envelops. If ever there occurred a "Clash of Civilizations" as fashionably coined after 9/11, this land where the east and the west meet was its epicenter. My Turkish guide Ismail Kucukbasol was a font of knowledge not only of the staggering richness of monuments and historical sites of this ancient land but also of its philosophical underpinnings. The Hitites who battled Pharaonic Egypt lived here. The Greeks conquered its Aegean coastline and settled there and called the land "Anatolia", land to the east. The Trojan War took place along its shores. The Persian emperor Darius conquered the land and drove the Greeks out. Later Alexander the Great would re-conquer this land on his way to Persia and India. History played see-saw on this land.

Hagia Sophia Museum

I was spellbound by the account of Ismail explaining to me the formation of the Eastern Roman Empire, Byzantium. Emperor Constantine had started giving space to Christians in his empire as he knew that by 324 A.D. this new religion could not be contained by force. His own mother had converted to Christianity and this played a huge role in influencing him. As Rome started to be pounded by the hordes of Barbarians, Constantine left Rome and built the new capital of his empire in Constantinople, the strategically located peninsula on the Strait of Bosphorus guarding both the Black Sea and Mediterranean Sea. He would be able to fight off challenges from the Barbarians here. He built the Eastern Roman Empire from here that would last more than 600 years after Rome was crushed in 476 A.D. Constantine converted to Christianity a few hours before his death. Even before this the first Christian community started at Antioch, now Antakya near the Syrian border, where St. Peter lived and preached.

Constantinople was renamed Istanbul, another result of the "Clash of Civilizations". The Turks and the Mongols having migrated from the Altai Mountains in Central Asia share a common ancestry, just like their modern day brethren in Kazaksthan, Turkmenistan and Azerbaijan. These nomadic hordes were fated to form two of the biggest empires the world has seen. One branch travelled westward to found the Ottoman Empire of Turkey and another was to form the Mughal Empire in India some two hundred years later! Just how hardy these Central Asians were! My guide Ismail told me that there is nobody without mixed blood living in Turkey any more. Sultan Mehmet II had defeated the Byzantines in 1453 A.D. and established the Ottoman dynasty of rulers that would last unbroken for nearly 500 years until 1918 A.D. following the defeat of the empire in WWI. Ismail looked Caucasian but he would point out his slanted eyes to me - a genetic code-share between us thus established we seemed to hit it off better for more lessons in history.

Emperor Justinian completed the most revered Christian building in the empire - Hagia Sophia - during his reign, 527 - 565 A.D. Today the building is a museum after having served as a mosque since the Ottoman conquest of 1453 A.D. The father of the Turkish Republic Mustafa Kemal Ataturk wisely decided to make the building a museum after he abolished the Caliphate of the Ottoman Empire. I saw many of the beautiful murals and frescoes from the Byzantine age being exposed to public adulation after having been covered in the iconoclastic time warp of the Islamic zealots for 500 years!

The Islamic heritage is best represented by the Blue Mosque and the Topkapi Palace among others. Also known as the Sultan Ahmet Mosque after its founder Sultan Ahmet I completed it in 1616 A.D. the Blue Mosque is the most splendid of the Ottoman religious structures. The mosque sits on the Byzantine Hippodrome famous for the chariot races and the gladiator fights that was second in size and importance only to Circus Maximus in Rome. The Topkapi Palace is translated as the Cannon Gate Palace and now we know why we Nepalese call cannon "tope" in Nepali! The palace was built after the conquest of Istanbul during the period 1475-1478 A.D. and it is a museum today. The Hollywood movie from the sixties, "Topkapi" starring Peter Ustinov told the story of the attempted heist of the priceless Topkapi Dagger that has egg-sized emeralds embedded in its hilt. The dagger is on display at the museum.

On the last morning I sailed on the Bosphorus with picturesque views of Asia to the east and Europe to the west. The Bosphorus is truly where the two Civilizations met and clashed during history's long transition to the peaceful and prosperous present day Turkey. I did not have enough time to see it all and I have promised Ismail to come back again with my family. I gave him a lesson in history too - he did not know that Nepalese soldiers had fought and died at Turkey's Aegean coast.

Sailing the Bosphorus

PERIPATETIC TRAVEL ANGST

2010-11-13T08:07:00.001-08:00

Aping the West can be an exercise in folly. After the "yes we can too" faus pax of the Commonwealth Games preparations I was in for a nasty surprise when I arrived at the spanking new airport at New Delhi, the Indira Gandhi T3, from Kathmandu. After disembarking from the Indian Airlines jet onto the airway bridge all 150 passengers had to wait on the bridge for at least 20 minutes as the receiving Indian Airlines ground staff had gone AWOL. Desperate mobile phone calls from the irate pilots notwithstanding, nothing happened at all reflecting the timelessness of ancient India until the seasoned traveler took over the herd mentality in me and I went a floor up the ramp to the embarkation gate and knocked. Thank God the policeman on duty was alert and he was good enough to open the glass door to find out why I was knocking. He transcended the doubting Thomas in me and came down the ramp to the arrival gate and with a quick swipe of the security card opened the gate to none too rapturous applause of the passengers already fatalistically resigned to bad karma and missed onward connections.

Mind games involved in peripatetic jetting about the globe takes a toll on the body and soul after having to endure delayed flights, endless waiting, indifferent food and lost belongings culminating in a vow to never do it again - until the next time of course! It all started with the delayed flight from Kathmandu. One wonders why the flight you are on is the one delayed on that particular day: when you fly Jetairways, that is the one delayed on the day; when you fly Jetlite, yes, again that is the one delayed on the day. Now I had "safely" chosen Indian Airlines as it had now become Air India - somehow bigger and better I thought - and the delay was by four hours! Had it been for the wait at the departure lounge of Kathmandu's TIA resembling more a North Indian railway station of my distant memory from the sixties, I would be a goner, but "source and force" had bought me a luxurious Radisson Business Class Lounge and the interminable wait was at least tolerable for the insane sciatica I am suffering from.

A short and rather sleepless night in New Delhi is the fate we Nepalese suffer from while flying out to foreign destinations whenever we choose this route as the flights are always very early in the morning. This time too flying Turkish Airlines was a challenge as one had to get up at an ungodly hour to hasten to the airport - only to find the flight had been delayed by at least 4 hours due to the heavy fog at Istanbul airport. Four hours is a long time to wait even at the spanking new T3 but thankfully I was in the Business Class Lounge provided by Turkish Airlines. After the flight took off came another pang of anxiety: could it make it on time for transfer to the flight to London? Thank God I had bought some duty free items as gifts at Delhi airport I thought or I would not have had the time to do the shopping in transit in Istanbul. Panic set in when the aircraft landed as a quick look at my watch told me I had no more than half on hour for the transfer and what would happen to my checked in baggage? No, I did not miss the connection to London; I had to wait another 6 more hours at Istanbul for the same! Angst in German perhaps comes closest to describe the frame of mind one is in with the lack of sleep and interminable waiting.

The time to board the aircraft came and another rude surprise was waiting for me in Istanbul. The duty free bottles - one whiskey and another Champagne - I bought at Delhi came in an open bag and now the Turkish security would not let these items aboard the aircraft; only sealed bags from the Istanbul airport duty-free shop would be allowed. Either India is too slow to catch up with the ways of the world or Turkey is too quick to ape the West in the hope of becoming an EU member state soon! Both bottles went to the trash bin although I could not but have a nasty suspicion that both the bottles would go to the guards on duty for an evening of revelry. I finally arrived in London some six hours later and two bottles lighter than scheduled.

The epilogue of this travel blog took place at Madrid airport. On the way back to London from Madrid I would buy those two bottles all over again! To my consternation and surprise the bottles came in open unsealed bags. Will they allow these into the plane I asked? Yes, no problem was the reply. And there was no problem. Now someone please explain me that: EU to EU? Non-EU to EU? SAARC to non-EU? SAARC to EU? The mind reels!

JUNG BAHADUR: THE FINAL CURTAIN

2010-10-30T05:51:00.000-07:00

Statue of Jung Bahadur at
Thapathali, Kathmandu

The legend was still alive but he was a tired man at sixty. He had done things in his lifetime which even a most extraordinary human being would take several lifetimes to achieve. He remembered the epochal Kot Massacre of 1846 A.D. and reminisced how his brothers had come to his rescue. Now three of his younger brothers had left for the abode of the Gods before Jung: Bam Bahadur, Badri Narsingh and Krishna Bahadur! He had restored his third brother Badri Narsingh to filial love and affection but not to the roll call of the hereditary prime ministership. He could never do that after Badri mounted a failed coup attempt against Jung in 1851 A.D.; for the trust betrayed. Jung still felt bitter after all these years.

After Jung Bahadur now Ranoddip, his fifth brother, would take the prime ministership and Jung could not help but shudder at a nasty premonition of dire consequence to his family this might herald. Ranoddip was not made for statecraft; he was too deep into mysticism and religion to be an effective ruler. Jung could only take comfort from the fact that his youngest brother Dhir Shumsher, a most able soldier, would be the pillar of support behind Ranoddip.

Jung Bahadur with his six younger brothers

Perhaps this was going to be his last hunt. The elaborate preparations for the shikar was taxing both the state coffers and his own health. The entire administration, both civil and military, had to move camp with him to the Terai. Preparations had to made for his many wives to accompany him. Five wives including the Bada Maharani was with him on this trip. Two of the wives had small children in tow. Jung had a heavy heart as he embarked on this hunting expedition. His two youthful sons Nar Jung and Baber Jung had passed away recently in quick succession, first from opium addiction and the second from consumption as tuberculosis was known then.

After many days of search he finally saw a tiger, a magnificent beast; their eyes met and locked. There was something about this tiger Jung could not fathom, something more than majestic, something ethereal; or was it his failing eyesight Jung wondered. Jung realized that it was a white tiger. It was the king of the jungle. Jung Bahadur did not fire. The moment passed and the tiger stealthily went on its own way into the thick jungle. Jung remembered the many myths he had heard of the ban devi, the forest deity, roaming the jungles in animal form. He was now convinced that this tiger had materialized for a final benediction.

Jung Bahadur's health rapidly deteriorated thereafter. He started losing his vision. His bowel movement was erratic and his muscles ached and pained. Within days the end was nigh. Jung's brothers Ranoddip and Dhir Shumsher rushed to the Terai camp from Kathmandu post-haste. The politics of the times dictated that they not inform Jung Bahadur's sons Jagat Jung and Jeet Jung immediately about the tragedy unfolding. Both the brothers were afraid the sons of Jung would try their own mischief.

Considering the worsening situation of the prime minister, the Bada Maharani asked for preparations to be made to take Jung Bahadur to Pattharghat at the banks of the Bagmati River. Brahmins were summoned for the last rites. His sons finally arrived. Amidst the chanting of the Vedic hymns Jung breathed his last. This transpired at the stroke of midnight on 25th February, 1877 A.D. The entire camp was in shock, nobody in his wildest imagination had thought of this tragic end at the outset of the hunting expedition. There was nothing else remaining now but the funeral rites to be performed.

Jung Bahadur himself would not have condoned the practice of sati the ancient Hindu tradition of wives climbing to the funeral pyres of the dead husband in a last fiery embrace. Jung was a liberated man. But he did not have time enough to will it. As it happens with customs and traditions too well entrenched in societies to contravene, all the maharanis prepared to commit sati immediately without any hesitation or fear, despite pleas from the assemblage to desist. Bada Maharani Hiranya Garva Kumari would not allow the two youngest wives of Jung to commit sati; both had young children to look after. Only the three elder wives prepared for the last rites.

Jung Bahadur with Bada Maharani
Hiranya Garva Kumari

In his biography on his father, Padma Jung writes of the last words of the Bada Maharani before she mounted the funeral pyre. "Gentlemen, you all know the love the Maharajah had for you and the zeal with which he devoted his life to the moral, social, intellectual and political welfare of our country." She continued, "If in the discharge of his duty he has ever by word, look or deed, wronged any one of you, I, on his behalf, ask you to forgive him, and to join me in praying for the everlasting peace of his soul."

Jung Bahadur Rana was that rare breed of men who forged destiny by his own sheer will power, come hail or high water. Had he got a larger canvas to paint he would be an equal match for Alexander, Caesar, Genghis Khan or Napoleon. But even in the context of the faraway kingdom in the clouds nestling on the laps of the Himalayan mountains the legacy he has left behind is profound. Whenever Nepal reels from vacuous leadership of one vacillating villain to another pusillanimous politician like today, the populace cry out, "We need Jung Bahadur now!" A more fitting tribute could not be paid to him by this nation.

JUNG BAHADUR'S NEPAL - A HAVEN OF REFUGE

2010-09-29T07:41:00.000-07:00

"In war, resolution; in defeat, defiance; in victory, magnanimity", Sir Winston Churchill.

The burden of defeat carried many of the mutinous Indian leaders and their near and dear ones all the way to the Nepal Terai. They came in desperation: caravans of the weary and hungry, wounded and dying. Most had left all their possessions behind in the hurry to escape the justice of the victors. They sought refuge from destiny. Many came in hope, some of the leaders with trepidation: would their former enemy Prime Minister Jung Bahadur Rana hand them over to the British? They knew what that would mean. The fall of Delhi had led to the slaying of the children of the Last Mughal Emperor Bahadur Shah Zaffar and the old man's banishment to Burma. The once mighty Mughal dynasty of Babur, Akbar and Shah Jehan had met an ignominious end. What would happen to the ruling dynasties of the Maratha warriors and the Kingdom of Avadh?

Jung Bahadur had returned to Kathmandu triumphant. The visit to England, the victory over the Tibetans and now the crowning glory of his career, the victory in the Indian Mutiny, had firmly put him in an unassailable position in the kingdom. For the first time since the Anglo-Nepal Wars Nepal held its head high and Jung Bahadur rightfully took the credit. Even his enemies grudgingly recognized his genius, his farsightedness and bravery. He had indeed done Nepal proud. The grateful British had returned to Nepal some of the land in the Nepal Terai ceded to the British over fifty years earlier. The "new territories" of Banke, Bardia, Kailali and Kanchanpur would add significant revenue to the national coffer. Too, Jung Bahadur and his armies had brought back enormous treasures from the "Lucknow Loot". Amidst all this brouhaha disturbing news came to Jung Bahadur that would shatter his peace of mind, test his mettle and Nepal's fortune too.

After leaving the stifling heat of the Gangetic plains, the refugees entered the Terai jungles only to encounter the secret weapon defending Kathmandu valley from marauding armies of the south: plasmodium vivax, the malarial parasite. The wounded and the weak, the stragglers fell prey to wild animals. The once proud armies that had challenged the might of the East India Company and nearly succeeded in bringing it to its knees were in tatters. Begum Hazrat Mahal with the 10 year old son king Birjis Qadr and a ragtag retinue of desperation entered Nepal. By 1859 Nana Sahib the Maratha warrior along with a large retinue of followers including several wives was also seen crossing the border into Nepal after months of hiding. His last stand at Gwalior had been thwarted, his prime minister Tantya Tope captured and executed. Jung Bahadur's border posts had been put on full alert. The movement of the erstwhile enemies closely watched. The news had to be sent to Kathmandu post-haste.

Begum Hazrat Mahal and her retinue slowly made their way through the 4 kos, over 10 miles, of dense jungle before coming into the valley. Prime Minister Jung Bahadur Rana had offered her and her son sanctuary after considerable deliberation, at first refusing her request. Consequences of granting refuge to those wanted by British India could be dire for the hero. But at the same time he wanted to establish Nepal as a sovereign kingdom and he no longer wanted to be seen kowtowing to Colonel Ramsay the British resident. The love-hate relationship between the British Resident and the Nepal Durbar was legendary. The sympathy at the plight of the defeated Indian rulers was palpable at most aristocratic homes. The Begum was grateful to her erstwhile enemy for the sanctuary.

It was something about Kathmandu valley that brought a sense of deja vu to the Begum, descending from Thankot in her coolie chair, carried across the shoulders of four burly Gorkhali pipa. She glimpsed at a distance the gilded pagoda roofs, the Bhimsen Tower and the stupa on the hill. She searched her memory. She saw images of herself playing in similar surroundings; there was a fleeting glimpse of the ping she used to swing in against the white mountain background, then nothing. She closed her eyes and searched her memory once again. She was in a strange city now full of horse-drawn tongas and minarets, walking, walking; and then she was picked up to be trained as a tawaif, a courtesan. She was taught to dance the mujra. She entered a large house and suddenly she was the star of the show. The Nawab's mother had taken a great liking to her, perhaps because she was a good dancer, perhaps because she was fairer and prettier than the rest and perhaps because she had the hill look about her. Anyway, she had grown up to be the favorite tawaif of the Nawab until he had taken her as his concubine, his mahak pari fragrant fairy, and then after the birth of her son, his principle wife. As they say, the rest was history. She had been reinvented as Begum Hazrat Mahal at the court of Nawab Wajid Ali Shah. She woke up from her reverie as she crossed the Bagmati River. She was extremely tired. The retinue made its way towards Thapathali, where she was given a temporary residence by the Maharajah.

Nana Sahib could never forgive the British for what they had done to him. The "Doctrine of Lapse" cooked up by Lord Dalhousie to swallow the Indian princely states had taken away his inheritance of the leadership of the Maratha Confederacy and a large amount of pension. Unable to have children the last Maratha ruler Baji Rao II had adopted Dhondu Pant as a young boy and styled him as Nana Sahib, a Maratha hero from a bygone era, nearly as illustrious as the legendary Shivaji. The British in all their perfidy would not recognize adopted children, only direct lineage! Nana Sahib suddenly felt old. He had gambled and lost. Now he would have to take refuge in one place or another for the rest of his life. The Nepalese had shown him great sympathy and he was grateful to Jung for that. He would send his wives and his son to Kathmandu. The marriage to his third wife Kashibai had not even been consummated! He would himself wander the Himalayan range as a mendicant. He knew that the only thing he could save of himself hereafter was his soul.

Maharajah Jung Bahadur took care of his guests well. He took the old Sanskrit saying, "Atithi Devo Bhava", Guest is Divine, to heart. He bestowed pensions becoming of their aristocratic stature. Begum Hazrat Mahal decided later to spend her time away from the limelight of Kathmandu and retired to Nuwakot, where she would die in 1879 A.D. Her son Birjis Qadr left Nepal for Calcutta after his mother's death. By some accounts Nana Sahib passed away in Deukhuri, western Nepal. Others saw him in Constantinople. His virgin wife Kashibai found love in the court of Nepal.

People say that Begum Hazrat Mahal was buried in the grounds of the Jama Masjid in central Kathmandu. Today, just off the shopping market there is a grave without any marking but under lock and key.

I have come across a couplet in Urdu describing her in her last repose.

Ai bad-e-saba aahista chal

Yahan soee hui hai Mahak Pari

(O’ zephyr, blow sweetly and calmly

Here lies in slumber Mahak Pari)

INTO THE MAELSTROM - JUNG BAHADUR LEADS AN ARMY

2010-09-07T10:12:00.000-07:00

Governor General Lord Canning's request to Jung Bahadur to assist the British militarily in Avadh sent a maelstrom through the court of Nepal. Prime Minister Bhimsen Thapa's war was still fresh in peoples' mind and the wound of Sugauly had not yet healed. The pacifists wanted to stay neutral saying it was not our fight. The powerful conservative faction still smarting from the earlier defeat wanted to fight the British instead by reinforcing Begum Hazrat Mahal. Maharajah Jung Bahadur was a brave-heart but he had first-hand witnessed the might of Britain; he knew that it was not the time to fight them. Too, he disliked the duplicity of the Indian rajas and the decadence of the Avadhi court where, until recently, Nawab Wajid Ali Shah was ruling the roost. He had also heard of savage killing of British civilians, women and children too, anathema to the chivalrous Jung. But decision to go to war is always a soul-searching affair. Jung held counsel with his brothers who one and all expressed solidarity.

Six infantry regiments were sent towards Lucknow immediately leaving Kathmandu on 2nd July, 1857 A.D. and entered Indian territory, the first time since the Treaty of Sugauly of 1816 A.D. The troops quickly occupied Gorakhpur and Azamgarh and went on a pincher move towards Lucknow with General Havelock's British troops coming in from the direction of Allahabad. But the Avadhi army under the redoubtable Begum Hazrat Mahal regrouped and attacked Azamgarh once again. The battle ebbed and flowed on the route to Lucknow inconclusively with neither side able to hold territory for long. By September it became apparent that the Nepalese forces were too small and the British forces too overstretched to recover Avadh and the situation became critical.

We know from Greek mythology that the beautiful Helen of Troy was the 'face that launched a thousand ships' thus starting the Trojan War. Similarly another face launched three Nepalese divisions into the maelstrom of Avadh led by Prime Minister Jung Bahadur himself! The British Resident Lt. Colonel G. Ramsay had another missive for Jung Bahadur but this time it was not from the Governor General of India. It was from another time another place he cherished so. Jung Bahadur was transported back to his days in England and of the company he had kept, his paramour Laura Bell. She had written to Jung imploring him to come to the aid of the beleaguered British forces during the hour of its need. She had also returned the diamond ring, the parting gift of Jung Bahadur, as incontrovertible proof that it was indeed her coming back into Jung's life after seven long years. Jung turned away quickly so that his meer subba translating the letter for him would not see his moist eyes.

Maharajah Jung Bahadur Rana started from Kathmandu on 10th December 1857 A.D. His forces consisted of three divisions, the first lead by himself, the second by General Kharag Bahadur and the third by General Bhakta Bahadur, both Jung's cousins. His younger brothers Ranoddip Singh and Dhir Shumsher were his aides-de-camp. The Gorkhali army is a fearsome war machinery when trained and disciplined. The British had first-hand experienced the ferocity of the hardy mountain fighters from Nepal during the Anglo-Nepal War. Had it not been for their superior weaponry, the Gorkhali troops would have prevailed. After the war the British had started recruiting the soldiers from the Nepalese hills forming their Gurkha Brigade in India, one of the concessions Nepal was forced to make by the Treaty of Sugauly. The Nepalese fighters under Jung Bahadur came from the same stock of hill tribes as the Gurkhas; fearless, loyal and obedient. They used their dagger, the khukri, at close combat with devastating effect. The Gorkhali juggernaut started on its long march to Lucknow.

Little Gambhir was brought up in an honest farming village not far from Nuwakot. As a young lad of seven while helping his father and elder brothers graze cattle in the hills above Nuwakot, he used to be diverted from his chore by the sheer sight of the Nuwakot Fort, its view towers rising above the wintry mist emanating from the gurgling Trishuli River flowing through the valley bed below. The sight mesmerized him always and whenever he had the time to run away from home unnoticed, he used to come as close as possible to the battlements and see the Gorkhali soldiers marching in the Tundikhel parade ground just below the ridge. He used to hear the shrill command of the havaldar drilling the soldiers and it would send shivers down his spine, and he knew that it was not from the cold. His one ambition in life was to be a Gorkhali soldier and join the military created he knew from his grandfather by King Prithivi Narayan Shah. The king had captured this citadel on his way to conquer Kathmandu Valley. The legend lived in Gambhir's village.

As providence allowed Gambhir had become the soldier he always wanted to be, the bonus now was that he was going to war led by his illustrious prime minister, Maharajah Jung Bahadur Rana one more time. He had served in the Tibet war to the best of his ability only a year back so he was fighting fit just like his regiment. The march was long and hard. He knew that he would see action as soon as they crossed over the border to India. Fame and fortune would shine on him if he gave a good account of himself.

Gambhir Singh saw his first action at the taking of Azamgarh and subsequently Jaunpur. Many of the brigands at the head of irregular forces fled from the Gorkhalis. However at a place called Chanda 36 miles from Jaunpur, the rebels regrouped with a strong force of 6,000 irregulars. Facing them were the Gorkhali regiment of just 1,100. The fighting was ferocious and by the end of the afternoon the Gorkhalis were poised to take Chanda but for the gun. Gambhir had held the head of his dying commander Lieutenant Colonel Madan Mansingh Basnyat in his laps just before the final assault to silence the enemy guns. Gambhir fought like a mad man. He dashed with his dripping khukri up the hill despite his cuts and bruises in a danse macabre, chopping enemy troops left and right and single handedly took control of the cannon that was hindering the Gorkhali advance. His singular valor was rewarded. He was given the honorific of "Bahadur", the Persian formulation for brave, as his middle name and he was promoted to the rank of captain. Captain Gambhir Bahadur Singh! Fame was his, and now the fortune...

Jung Bahadur's army fought its way across the troubled territories of Avadh defeating one mutinous leader after another. He was successful in coaxing many others to drop their weapons without a fight. Gorakhpur, Amberpur, Faizabad and finally Jaunpur fell to the Gorkhalis. All the roads leading to Lucknow from the north were his and on the 10th of March 1958 A.D. he was in striking distance of Lucknow itself. The British Commander-in-Chief Sir Colin Campbell now wanted to meet Jung Bahadur to co-ordinate the attack on the city. The meeting took place at the British camp on the 11th of March and Jung was received with fitting pomp and splendour by the chief to express his gratitude. While they shook hands, a 19 gun salute boomed in the background in honor of Jung and no doubt to frighten the remnants of the army of Begum Hazrat Mahal still doggedly holding the city.

Fighting in Lucknow was from street to street, house to house. Begum Kothi fell but not without a savage fight. 93rd Highland Division of Scotland and Captain Gambhir's regiment were in the thick of the action. Subsequently all the landmarks where the rebels were holding out fell: Alambadh, Imambara, Chutter Manzil, Tara Kothi and Moti Mahal. The biggest prize was the Qaiserbagh Palace of the Nawabs. Lucknow Loot has entered the Nepali lexicon as a metaphor for wanton pillage and avarice. But for a conquering army it was payback time. This was payback time too for Captain Gambhir -for the days and nights of marching in treacherous conditions, for the flies by day and the mosquitoes by night, for the hunger and the constant fear of death and for the hurting cuts and gashes he took on his body. Ornaments of exquisite beauty studded with expensive jewels of every hue and colour imaginable, objects d'art of gold and silver, ivory, crystal mirrors, brocades, carpets and curtains, expensive chinaware, chests full of gold and silver coins were the war booty. All these treasures would be making their way to Nepal. Captain Gambhir took a generous helping too. Providence smiled; fame and fortune was his.

For Jung Bahadur the last task remaining was the capture of Musa Bagh, a palace surrounded by large gardens on the banks of the river Gomti, about 6 miles from Lucknow. This is where Begum Hazrat Mahal with her son King Brijis Qadr was making her last stand with about six thousand troops. The forces of General Outram and the Gorkhali regiments fell upon Musa Bagh and before the day was over, the victors had hoisted their flags on the palace. The queen mother and the king had fled. The last of the mutinous territories, Avadh, was restored under British rule.

JUNG BAHADUR ON THE HORNS OF A DILEMMA

2010-08-23T21:18:00.000-07:00

When the Kingdom of Avadh (or Oudh to the British) was annexed into British India in 1856 A.D., its capital Lucknow was the most opulent city in India. As Mughal India faded into the twilight of history lesser Mughal outposts had started to outshine its imperial capital at Delhi. Hyderabad and Lahore were both renowned Mughal cities. The jewel in the crown however was Lucknow boasting broad avenues and landscaped gardens, palaces with untold riches jostling for pride of place in its heart, the lilting melody of ghazal love ballads and qawwali sufi devotional songs permeating the fragrant night air and skilled tawaif courtesans performing mujra dance for the pleasure of aristocrats and rich merchants bedecked in fine jewellery.

Until 1856 Avadh was ruled by Wajid Ali Shah the 10th and last Nawab of his dynasty. A decade of his rule had seen a revival of the performing arts. He was a great dancer, poet, playwright and patron of the arts. In his stupendously rich palace of Qaisarbagh in Lucknow he opened a theatre, Rahas Manzil, thought to be the first Hindustani theater building. Unfortunately the old adage concerning the Roman Emperor Nero was also true of Wajid Ali: as Avadh mired in poverty and lawlessness was burning, the Mughal Nero was dancing Kathakali in his Rahas Manzil. The British did not need any greater pretext to annex his kingdom and send Wajid Ali into exile in Bengal.

Maharajah Jung Bahadur Rana was watching these developments with keen interest from his Himalayan perch. He had learnt from an early age how the Indian rulers had promised his grand uncle Prime Minister Bhimsen Thapa to join ranks if he fought the British. The Punjabi ruler Ranjit Singh had even promised Bhimsen Thapa that Nepal's territory would border the Ganges River in the south if he declared war on British India. Emboldened he had fought the British to bitterly witness Nepal's defeat and his personal ruin. The Indian rulers had not come to his rescue. Nepal had to face the British might all alone. Jung Bahadur remembered how the country was truncated by the Treaty of Sugauly and he had since neither forgotten nor forgiven the Indian rulers for abandoning Bhimsen.

History changes course as often as the Yellow River in China! A small discontent in the ranks of the Indian regiment based at Barrackpore near Calcutta -where a few sepoys protested cartridge purportedly greased with pig and cow fat as they had to chew on it to reload their Lee Enfield rifles - turned into a full scale revolt that challenged the might of Imperial Britain. Open mutiny started in Meerut. The conflagration spread like wildfire. From the Bengal army to the Maratha regiments to Avadh where a large number of soldiers for the Bengal army were recruited mutiny became the order of the day. Independent India would call it its First War of Independence. The leaders of the revolt are revered today as martyrs. Personalities like Nana Sahib, the Maratha peshwa (ruler) and Rani Lakshmi Bai of Jhansi were deprived of their kingdoms by the "Doctrine of Lapse" introduced by Governor General Lord Dalhousie. Nana Sahib was the adopted son of the Maratha ruler who the British did not allow to succeed to the throne.

Similarly Rani Lakshmi Bai and her husband had an adopted son who the British did not recognize to be the rightful heir. Begum Hazrat Mahal of Avadh stayed behind in Lucknow after her husband's ouster and raised an army. The last Mughal emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar reduced by 1857 to ruling just the Red Fort in Delhi was reluctantly thrust into assuming a symbolic leadership of the mutiny. All of them joined their armies in the rebellion. The Company reeled from one military set back after another.

The East India Company had started the British Raj exactly one hundred years earlier by defeating the Bengal Army at the Battle of Plassey in 1757 A.D. The British commander Robert Clive became the Governor of Bengal. The historic opportunity to kick the British out of India exactly one hundred years later was fueling the determination of soldiers and kings alike. Forces of Nana Sahib took Kanpur, one of the military strongholds of the British in North India. Lucknow was liberated by an army put together by the determined Begum Hazrat Mahal. She promptly installed her minor son Birjis Qadr as the ruler of Avadh and got recognition from the Mughal emperor. The erstwhile Rani of Jhansi recaptured Jhansi and Gwalior. The mutinous soldiers from Meerut overran British garrisons and laid siege to Delhi.

Prime Minister Jung Bahadur Rana had witnessed first-hand the might of Imperial Britain during his visit in 1850 A.D. He did not want to be in the losing side this time like his grand-uncle. Of course, if the British asked for his military assistance, it would be a difficult decision to make. Nepal had historical ties with all the important princely states of India, both Hindu and Muslim. Jung knew that the policy of divide and rule perfected by the British had given them sway over large swathes of territory as big as Europe in just a hundred years since Plassey. But those Indian rulers had betrayed Bhimsen Thapa. Jung's mind was in turmoil, and the fact that the Nepalese court was equally divided over the issue did not help.

The British Resident in Nepal Lt. Colonel G. Ramsay wanted to see the prime minister post-haste. He had a missive from the Governor General of India Lord Canning. Jung was a pious man and he did not like to hurry in the morning. He had his early morning rituals to perform, hear the hymns from the Brahmins and offer his worship to the Sun God, giver of all life. Above all he did not like kow tow-ing to the British resident. On purpose he took longer than he normally did to get ready that morning. Let the colonel wait Jung murmured to himself. He was also worried about the tiding he suspected the resident was bringing.

Colonel Ramsay was finally let in to meet Jung standing ramrod straight attired in his usual military fatigue, the French medal awarded by the French president prominently displayed on his chest to tweak the British resident's pride. Jung's posture made him taller than his actual height. He had learnt a thing or two about Napoleon Bonaparte during his sojourn in France. Colonel Ramsay handed over a kharita the royal pouch used traditionally for such missive. It contained a letter from Lord Canning to the effect that the British wanted Nepalese military assistance as Lucknow was falling to the rebels and the rest of Avadh would follow soon. The British troops by themselves would not be able to hold much longer. The worst fears of Jung Bahadur had been realized. He knew the decision he would have to take could decide the fate of his own country.

THE RISING

2010-08-08T21:37:00.000-07:00

The grainy black and white film runs incessantly like a recurring nightmare: there are half-starving Varsovians fighting with all means at their disposal, children running the gauntlet to supply the soldiers, women frenetically tending to the wounded and the dying. The faces look gaunt yet determined, hunger has not quelled the human spirit's thirst for freedom; fathers fight for their sons, mothers for their daughters. They know that their own life has come to naught, trampled under the jackboots of Nazi Germany, ripped asunder by fire bombs raining down from the skies; their homes and neighbourhoods are a heap of ruins. But they need to fight one last time before they die, before the Red Army parked across the Vistula River to the east cross over to liberate them from the Nazis only to tie them up in the bondage of Soviet Communism.

The Museum dedicated to the Warsaw Uprising is a poignant reminder of human cruelty; the various -isms that have brought such devastation to the "civilized" world of the 20th Century. It is also a monument to the irrepressible human spirit that rises from hopelessness to hope, from fear to courage and from bondage to liberation! The museum tells the story of the Warsaw Uprising that started on 1st August 1944 in sights and sounds that thunderstruck me. Amidst the screeching fury of Stukas dive bombing on their targets, there is the martial music of the Third Reich drowning out the cries of anguish and the incessant, almost hypnotic, synchronized thuds of the Wehrmacht jackboots on Warsaw's cobbled streets. There are pictures of the dead and dying, makeshift anonymous graves, firing squads firing without respite.

I peek and crawl into a manhole the insurgents were using as the mode of transport and communication albeit without the darkness, the stink and the grime floating. I view the city skyline from the roof of the museum to find a few war time buildings standing here and there to remind and to warn future generations. Earlier I have seen a 3D documentary of the devastated Warsaw shot from a low flying aircraft immediately after the war. I can see one church spire standing tall like a beacon of hope amongst the debris. This was the Warsaw Ghetto area where we live today, I am told.

I see a kaleidoscope of personalities, heroes and villains. The Hall of Infamy showcases Hans Frank the Nazi Governor General of Poland posing with his happy family. There is Eichmann here and Himmler there. There is Hitler taking the first salute from his conquering troops in Warsaw. Names and faces etched in my mind from reading countless books on the subject, watching countless movies too. My first introduction to the Uprising and the Warsaw Ghetto was the book Mila 18 by Leon Uris I read at school. Then there are the Allies - Stalin, Churchill and Roosevelt - sealing the fate of the erstwhile independent Poland at Yalta. The West had enough of fighting to fight Stalin. It would take a Polish Pope, Solidarity and Gorbachev to undo this terrible injustice nearly 50 years later.

The Uprising ends in capitulation two devastating months later. General Bor, the Commander of the Home Army signs the treaty suspending warfare in Warsaw. Under its terms both the insurgents and the civilian population is mandated to leave the city. More than 18 thousand insurgents and 180 thousand civilians die. Only 64 out of 987 historical buildings remain standing. Just a handful of Poles and Jews remain when the Red Army enters the city on January 17, 1945. These are the so-called "Robinsons".

I mentally note that just like rebuilt Warsaw's skyline reaching for the skies, the hopes and aspirations of a nation is soaring high too. The museum reminds Poles how easy it is to lose one's nationhood lest the new generation forgets. Somewhere there is a lesson for an -ism afflicted Nepal. Will there be a rising there too?

JUNG BAHADUR AND THE WINDS OF WAR

2010-08-03T23:19:00.000-07:00

The Chinese army with their numerical superiority and a vast arsenal of weaponry were routing the Gorkhali troops facing them in the Tibetan plateau. The Gorkhali army fought on bravely but they had to retreat by the hour and by the day until they withdrew to the Nepalese border. Yet, the Chinese onslaught continued through Kerung and Kuti passes into Nepal, an unstoppable juggernaut that was now poised to take Kathmandu Valley itself! Prime Minister Jung Bahadur Rana tossed and turned in his bed, mumbling to himself gibberish only he understood in his fitful sleep. He woke up all clammy from his nightmare, his bhoto soaking wet at his chest and opened his eyes. He was greatly relieved to find himself in his safe bed, his favorite concubine curled in blissful sleep beside him; the Chinese invasion of Nepal had retreated into the deep recesses of his mind.

Jung experienced this dream once in a while; so firmly had the Chinese military action rattled the foundation of Nepalese statehood in 1792 A.D. that no ruler even after all these years was able to forget the deep trauma suffered by Nepal in the second Gorkhali war with Tibet. A vast number of Chinese troops had come as close as 5 km to the north of Kathmandu Valley having captured Trishuli Bazaar before peace was negotiated under whose terms Nepal recognized the suzerainty of the Qing emperor Qongling by agreeing to send to Peiping an embassy with tribute once every five years. The Second Tibet War would be the undoing of Regent Bahadur Shah, the great warrior and hero who had expanded the Kingdom of Nepal from the River Sutlej in the west to the River Teesta in the east. Shortly thereafter the young king Rana Bahadur Shah, having come of age to assume state power, imprisoned his uncle where the old broken man was left to die an ignominious death.

Prime Minister Jung Bahadur had these nightmares more frequently now. The Tibetans had once again failed to pay tribute to the Nepalese king and further rubbing salt on the wound they had attacked Nepalese traders and ransacked their trade posts at the Barkhor Bazaar in Lhasa. Jung knew that he had to act resolutely to bring the Tibetans to their senses and force them to respect the old Treaty of Betrawoti signed with Nepal. But was a military campaign an option? Would China again come to the rescue of the Tibetans as it did in 1792? Would British India aid Jung in his endeavour? Jung Bahadur Rana was ever restless. He needed to talk to his brothers; they would shoulder some of his burden.

Circumstances in China had changed since the powerful emperors of the Qing Dynasty enjoyed near celestial powers in the Middle Kingdom. The Taiping Rebellion of 1850 A.D. was playing havoc with the old ensconced way of life at the Qing Courts. Earlier the loss of the First Opium War to Britain had greatly humiliated the Qing Emperor Xianfeng and his prestige had slid. China was no longer in a position to protect Tibet; there were more pressing areas where the bulk of the Chinese military was deployed. Prime Minister Jung Bahadur Rana's spies had reported to him all these watershed events of the mid-nineteenth century China from its listening post in Calcutta. Jung needed to take the momentous decision to go to war very soon.

That decision was made in March 1855 when Jung Bahadur formally declared war on Tibet. His brothers were all united in this enterprise; General Bom Bahadur Rana and General Dhir Shumsher Rana leading the two frontal attacks on Kerung and Kuti while General Jagat Shumsher Rana was not far behind with huge reinforcement of troops and cannons. General Dhir penetrated deep into Tibet and captured the strong fortress at Sona Gompa, now known as the Sakya Monastery, after some of the heaviest fighting of the war. The Chinese helped mediate the peace by sending a Tibetan delegation to Kathmandu in August 1855 and another meeting took place at Xegar Dzong in Tibet but to no avail. The Tibetans would not yet agree to the Nepalese terms. The peace delegation was only a red herring as secretly the Tibetans were preparing for battle.

In November the Tibetans launched a ferocious counterattack on the Nepalese troops at Kuti and caught them by surprise. The Tibetans had the advantage of offense as well as the inclement winter weather they were more suited to fight in. Heavy snowfall over the mountain passes meant slow retreat for the Nepalese troops. However General Dhir Shumsher quickly retrenched his troops and pushed forward once again overcoming the odds. The great determination of the Nepalese troops has been extolled in countless jhyaure folk songs since. Finally the Tibetans lost the stomach to fight and sued for peace.

Prime Minister Jung Bahadur Rana was in a cheerful mood as he surveyed the shamiyana tent erected on the grounds of his Thapathali Durbar in Kathmandu to welcome the Tibetan delegation. He called his two married wives to inspect the scene from the balcony of his palace. The chilly January ground frost had started to melt and the late feeble sun was peeking over the lifting fog when the fearsome looking Tibetan delegation representing the 11th Dalai Lama Khedrup Gyatso, the mere 16 year old spiritual and temporal ruler of Tibet, arrived in full and most colorful regalia for the event. The nightmares would finally stop tormenting Jung's sleep; he had managed to force the Tibetans to sign a new treaty with better terms for Nepal than the last Treaty of Betrawoti. The Treaty of Thapathali was signed by both the warring parties in January 1856 A.D. ending the Third Tibet War. In August of that year King Surendra Bikram Shah conferred the hereditary title of Maharajah of Kaski and Lamjung on Jung Bahadur. The king gave him the power of life and death, making war and peace, a full control over all the state departments and to have succession of prime ministership with the title of Maharajah bestowed upon his family in perpetuity.

JUNG BAHADUR AMONG THE HORNETS' NEST - THE AFTERMATH OF VELAYAT YATRA

2010-07-09T22:30:00.000-07:00

Kazi Karbir Khatry was a trusted lieutenant of Prime Minister Jung Bahadur Rana. He was subservient and loyal to the new repository of power to a fault. He considered himself highly privileged to be a part of the prestigious retinue of the prime minister's epochal visit to England. But the Kazi was a very religious man; he was also extremely ambitious.

Prime Minister Jung Bahadur Rana finally returned home on the 6th of February, 1851 A.D. to a hero's welcome after a thirteen month long odyssey of England, France, Egypt and, on the way back, after politicking in the important power centers of British India. Entering Kathmandu Valley Jung was feted by his brothers, the court and the huge masses of the citizenry of the valley. Across the Black Bridge at Pachali, great welcome arches were constructed decorated with colourful banners and buntings hailing the prime minister and proclaiming the glory of Nepal. Welcome committees of every hue and color waited with garlands of marigold and traditional vermilion powder to shower the hero in orange and red. A military guard of honor played martial tunes of the times. A 21 gun salute was fired from cannons placed at the military garrison at Tundikhel. Smartly uniformed troops of the Nepalese army lined the street three rows deep from Pachali along the banks of the Bagmati River all the way to Thapathali the residence of the prime minister, their bayonets glistening in the bright wintry sun. Multitudes of common people jostled for view along the route. To paraphrase Sir Winston Churchill's memorable exhortation in the British Parliament a century later, this was Jung's "finest hour".

A six horse carriage slowly made its way to Thapathali Durbar with Jung and his brother Bom Bahadur the officiating prime minister sitting and waving to the jubilant crowds. Shouts of "Jung Bahadur ki jai" were heard reverberating from one temple pagoda roof to another Mughal-era influenced temple dome. Jung looked resplendent in a white silk robe draped over military breeches and the bird-of-paradise plumed coronet studded with expensive diamonds, emeralds and pearls on his head, a great sword gifted by Louis Napoleon the French President dangling by his side. Jung basked in glory momentarily but driving along the route he was overwhelmed by it all. He was choking with emotion. He was humbled by the display of such love and affection shown by the common people coming so soon after the Kot massacre. Jung remembered the plans he had made for his beloved Nepal and he vowed with Lord Pashupatinath as his witness that he would implement them with undying zeal.

During Jung's absence the olden enemies had started to rear their ugly heads once again. There was a whispering campaign started by them to assasinate Jung's character. A trip across the ocean in those times meant losing one's high caste but Jung had prevailed over the reservations expressed by many influential members of his durbar and embarked on his historic visit. Now rumours of his exploits in Europe started to permeate a scandalized court. Upon hearing such stories folks started shaking their head from side to side expressing disapproval; they stuck their tongues out expressing shock. Jung had touched alcohol with his lips some said, an act that was anathema to chaste Hindus. Jung ate outside his own kitchen managed by dhoti-clad Brahmin cooks, others said. Jung had laspas with firingi women; Jung hobnobbed with colonialists and republicans; he toasted revolutionaries and anarchists. Jung entered a church! The hero had suddenly become an ogre. Just what his enemies needed to deal a final blow!

A conspiracy had been hatched during Jung's long absence. His third brother Badri Narsingh Rana and a coterie of courtiers had approached Prince Upendra Bikram Shah the younger brother of the reviled king with a plot to oust the king and place the prince on the throne in his stead. At the same time Jung Bahadur would be taken care of and Badri Narsingh would take the helm of government. Now they needed a smoking gun and found in Kazi Karbir Khatry a willing eye witness to Jung's misdeeds in England. The kazi's conscience had been troubling him for some time now. He had disapproved of Jung's conduct many times during the visit but had kept the discontent to himself for fear of recriminations. For a non Rana the post he held was very dignified and it came with political and financial rewards he was not about to jeopardize. But the conspirators now put seeds of a richer harvest in his mind should he come forward and say as he saw. The kazi's ambition gained the better of his prudence.

The conspirators had also tried to get the officiating Prime Minister Bom Bahadur, Badri's elder brother, on their side. Bom Bahadur had been tormented by this plot but he played along because he was afraid the conspirators might get the upper hand and finish him off too should he oppose them. But Bom Bahadur's loyalty to his elder brother Jung was unquestionable; they had all come out of the Kot massacre unscathed and he was convinced that the only way for them to survive in Nepal's ever-scheming court was for the seven brothers to be united. A division among the brothers would ring a death knell for the clan. Emotion overcame him as he hurried to the prime minister's residence at Thapathali to warn his brother Jung about the imminent danger he was in. Bom Bahadur threw himself at Jung's feet and divulged the secrets of the conspiracy, weeping and begging forgiveness for not sounding the alarm sooner. Jung Bahadur was shocked by the turn of events. He knew he had to act resolutely.

The next day was a full durbar. Jung would be going to the King's palace at Hanuman Dhoka to officially present him the letter of greetings from Queen Victoria. This was his opportunity to trap the conspirators in the presence of the king as some members of the royal family were involved too; Jung dared not arrest them without the king's approval. Jung gathered his faithful around him in the morning before going to the royal palace and gave the news about the conspiracy and the course of action to be taken. He believed that discretion was the better part of valour and it was wise to pretend that he knew nothing until the right moment. His intuition had saved him in 1846 A.D. when the distraught queen had sounded the alarm bugle and gathered the court in the middle of the night over the slaying of her paramour Gagan Singh Thapa. It would save him again.

King Surendra Bikram Shah was presiding at the court in Hanuman Dhoka. Prime Minister Jung Bahadur Rana read the letter of felicitation to the Nepalese monarch from Queen Victoria translated into Nepali. The King and the court were pleased: they knew that for now the East India Company would not be a nuisance and Nepal would enjoy a period of peace and good neighbourly relations. Then Jung dropped his bombshell! He talked about the conspiracy against the person of His Majesty and against himself. He asked the deputation of his personal bodyguards to arrest Prince Upendra, his brother Badri Narsingh and some of the leading conspirators gathered there. The drama was not over yet, Jung had to teach a lesson. He ordered Kazi Karbir Khatry to be arrested and brought before the court. The terrified kazi realized his folly and a quick vision of Jung's retribution flashed in his mind. Would he be hanged, drawn and quartered? Would a bull elephant crush his skull as practiced in the Mughal courts of Aurangzeb? Would they blind him? Pull out his tongue? He went limp. Brawny arms dragged him to the center of the court room and pinned him down on the floor, face up. Strong fingers pried open his mouth and before he knew what was going on, one of the well endowed bodyguards of Jung opened his fly and pissed in his mouth in full view of the court. The mouth would no longer monger gossip. Too, no more mouths would monger gossip after this. Kazi Karbir Khatry's humiliation was complete.

All the conspirators were banished from Nepal and British India was requested to hold them prisoners at the fort in Allahabad for a few years until the anger in Jung Bahadur ebbed away and politics and pity took over.

JUNG BAHADUR RANA AND THE DANCING DAMSELS - THE SOJOURN IN FRANCE

2010-06-30T10:31:00.000-07:00

Prime Minister Jung Bahadur Rana left England for France with a rich treasure trove of memories and an ambition his experiences in Britain had fueled for his own poor and backward nation. He was heartbroken too as he had to leave behind his paramour Laura Bell. Far from the complexities of ruling a highly destabilized country coming so soon after the tumultuous Kot and Bhandarkhal episodes, Jung had truly relaxed in England and had grown fond of the young Irish lass. He wanted to stay longer but the situation back home was unfavourable. Jung was seething with anger that his brother Bom Bahadur who he left behind as officiating prime minister had not been able to take a firm grip on the affairs of state. Even in faraway England he got reports that his enemies were again trying to rear their ugly heads, he would have to smite them with the power of his ingenuity once more. He knew he could not trust his ambitious third brother Badri Narsingh and the one after that Ranoddip was an indecisive weakling. How he wished his youngest brother Dhir, now a colonel in charge of his retinue, was older. Dhir was Jung's favorite brother.

Jung Bahadur had decided to cut short his European sojourn by leaving Germany and Imperial Russia for a second visit. France was all that he would be able to manage for now. He was an ardent fan of Napoleon Bonaparte who Jung believed forged a great nation out of the quagmire of the French Revolution. Jung Bahadur Rana had started to model himself after the great conqueror to make Nepal united and strong. He also knew that he might have to forge a stronger relationship with the French should the British backstab him and break the treaty signed at Sugauly in 1816 AD. Jung was born a year later. As a small wide-eyed lad Jung had sat on his maternal grand uncle Prime Minister Bhimsen Thapa's laps and listened to stories of the Anglo-Nepal Wars with tears of frustration and humiliation streaming down the old man's face. Jung had taken a solemn oath that he would never allow Nepal to be further drawn and quartered during his watch. Jung was thus delighted that he would be meeting the nephew of the great man himself to forge ties! Prince Louis Bonaparte had been elected the first President of France in 1848 A.D. and now, two years later, Jung was being feted with state honours by such an historic personality.

Jung Bahadur Rana crossed the English Channel and landed at Calais and took a train to Paris. He was received with pomp and splendour. The French government had prepared Hotel Le Senat for the prime minister and his retinue to stay while they were in France. Jung was a man in a hurry: he knew France had a lot in store for him and he went about soaking in the sights and sounds with unmitigated zeal; from the Tuileries to Versailles, from the mausoleum of Napoleon at Hotel des Invalids to the Arc de Triumph commemorating his victories. Many times he was accompanied by the president's cousin Joseph Charles Bonaparte. Nothing was too elaborate or too contrived for Jung. He wished to take a salute from an army of one hundred thousand soldiers marching past in their finest regalia, a wish that was put off for the time being as the French President was afraid of amassing such an army in Paris fearing an accident.

Jardin Mabille was the place gentlemen discreetly went to see the courtesans and the dancing girls. It was the center of fashion and a garden of pleasure. Gorgeously dressed high society ladies bedecked in fine jewellery were seen promenading. There was music, gaiety and a circus. Jung Bahadur did not demur when his kind hosts suggested that he visit this place with such a wild reputation. It was a matter of "noblesse oblige" for the eastern potentate whose reputation of profligacy had crossed the English Channel before him. What Jung did not anticipate was that there might be a few more Laura Bell wannabes waiting in ambush.

Here we take off on another trajectory to introduce Lola Montez. She was the lover of King Ludwig I of Bavaria whose relationship had attributed to the king's fall from grace and exile. Lola Montez was the self-styled Spanish dancer who had bewitched the Continent by her scintillating "spider" dance. Little did people know that she was actually an Irish lass born Eliza Gilbert. Wherever she went people fell for her beauty and charm. She was at the Jardin Mabille that afternoon when Jung Bahadur arrived as she was performing at the Bal Mabille, an institute of dance founded in 1831 AD. She coquettishly approached Jung Bahadur while he was practicing his shooting at a range. The chivalrous Jung saw the young beauty and offered her his gun to shoot. Lola took the gun and accidently pulled the trigger, the bullet hitting the thigh of Colonel Dhir Shumsher. The wound was not a serious one and Jung laughed out loud in a guffaw, the accident was considered a minor episode in the larger design of things to follow. Jung Bahadur was smitten by the twenty nine year old Lola.

An affair followed to the chagrin of Jung's retinue including his brothers Jagat and Dhir who thought it best to hush it. Henceforth, wherever Jung visited Lola was not far behind. In a short while she was already a part of Jung's Nepalese contingent. It was rumored that Lola spoke broken Hindi, perhaps her parents had served in India, which made Jung's conversation with her less tiring than with Laura Bell. Jung had a lighter step henceforth.

Jung Bahadur was invited to the famous ballet running at the time, "Le Violon du Diable". The dancing star was the famous Fanny Cerrito, the Italian ballerina much sought after by ballet aficionados of the period. She had started her career in Naples in 1832 and then danced from the Russian Imperial court at St. Petersburg to a command performance of Queen Victoria in London. To the delight of the dancer and surprise of the hosts, Jung Bahadur presented a baju bracelet studded with expensive jewels to the star dancer. Tongues started wagging.

But all good things had to come to an end and after spending two delightful months of August and September 1850 A.D. in France, Jung finally set sail from Marseilles to Alexandria. From his historic visit he brought back European manners and mores, their architecture, the Civil Code (Muluki Ain), and a conviction that Nepal must look outward and transform itself into a great regional powerhouse. Or else Jung concluded, watching the Egyptian coastline slowly appear over the horizon, the Gorkhalis would be history just as the Pharaohs of Egypt had become.

AN ADVENTURER NONPAREIL

2010-06-17T20:26:00.000-07:00

There is a community out there in far western Nepal that suspends matrimonial bonds for one week during the festival of Holi, the ageless festival of colors and gaiety Lord Krishna enjoyed with his gopinis in an age before ours. Anything goes, new loves are pursued, new ties are created for a brief period until the festivities end and life comes back to its mundane self. Now don't raise your hopes too high, I did not find this community; I am not an anthropologist. Dana Brown did, or so he claims in voice recorded tapes that have now been digitalized to mp3 and available over the internet!

Dana Brown with his tiger bagged in Nepal

Dana Drown is the epitome of the great, male, white hunter. In school we read about Allan Quatermain the protagonist of "King Solomon's Mines", the quintessential explorer and Africa lover forever overcoming overwhelming odds in the dark heart of Africa. Dana Brown was the latter day Quatermain exploring the jungles of Africa and South Asia in search of the great big trophies and even bigger stories. He was a coffee baron from St. Louis, Missouri and he came to shoot the tiger with my father no less than three times in the sixties.

Nepal Shikar Private Limited was founded by my father to allow international trophy seekers to hunt big game in the Nepal Terai, the greatest hunting trophy of them all being the Royal Bengal Tiger. No, the Rhinos were prohibited to take back as trophies even then. Jungles were thick and man-eating tigers were always on the prowl to prey on helpless villagers living at the edge of the foreboding wilderness. The sixties witnessed the borderline period before the hunters became the hunted, before humans started annihilating those magnificent beasts for monetary gains rather than for self-defense.

There were many rich Americans and a few European royalty who came to shoot with Nepal Shikar. I remember Ralph Scott a Texas oil man who hunted in Nawalpur in 1966 and he was at the time rumored to be the 19th richest American. Another hunter was a one-legged U.S. Air Force veteran pilot who trained to become a lawyer after he lost his leg when his aircraft was shot down in WWII. I have forgotten his name. He had morphed into one of the highest earning lawyers in the D.C. area. But among my father's big game hunting clients, Dana Brown stands out as the person who fell in love with the Nepal Terai. I remember him cramping himself in tree tops sleepless all night to record the jungle sounds. He even recorded sounds of tigers mating! He was very interested in the Tharu Community, endlessly shooting films on them, their rapidly disappearing habitat and their insular culture. One story tells us that the Tharus are people of Burmese descent who came to the Nepal Terai in the middle ages and survived the blistering heat, the ever present threat of wild animals and, most importantly, the malarial parasite having slowly built immunity against it.

My father, Dana Brown and a shikari

Dana Brown shot a tiger each time he was here, including a near record size male and another that was a proven man-eater. Dana Brown claims in stories I have read of him that he was personally invited by the king of Nepal to shoot a man-eater, a claim for fame aimed more at his own gullible community in Missouri rather than any historical fact, but who would not romance the Himalayan kingdom of the fifties and sixties? But, yes, kill a man-eater he did with my father cleverly laying the trap to the gratitude of the terrorized Tharu community. The tiger had already taken seven lives.

Dana Brown was a coffee magnate and he started a new line of coffee, the "Tiger Brand" in memory of his Nepal shoots. He has a huge collection of hunting film footage from his exploits in Africa and Nepal gathering dust in a warehouse in St. Louis. An article published in The St. Louis Post-Dispatch dated 24 November 2006 states,"The silver-gray metal canisters and reels of 16" mm films inside have been carefully stacked on the shelves of a fourth-floor storage room in south St. Louis. If the film has not deteriorated - and a brief inspection recently indicated that it remained intact - it offers a potentially amazing look into the lives of the people and wildlife that inhabited some of the most remote corners of the world at that time. The film also provides a glimpse into the life of a local icon, whose Safari brand coffee line commercials and documentaries entertained generations of St. Louisans. Many of Brown's documentaries began with 'This is Safari Land, and I am Dana Brown'."

Dana Brown passed away in 1994. The savvy businessman and globe-trotting outdoorsman has left behind the Dana Brown Charitable Trust that has pumped U.S. $ 40 million into local institutions, from St. Louis Children's Hospital to Forest Park and the St. Louis Zoo. We shall now never know more about the community in Western Nepal that celebrated Holi with such wanton abandon but Dana's legacy lives on.

A WALK WITH FATHER

2010-06-09T20:21:00.000-07:00

We Nepalese hiked our hills and dales long before the term "trek", originally an Afrikaans word used by Boers describing journey by ox wagon, caught on to describe a popular form of recreational activity for tourists in the Nepalese mountains. We now credit the Late Colonel Jimmy Roberts, a retired British army officer who made Nepal his home, for introducing this form of tourism in Nepal with his pioneering company aptly named Mountain Travel.

In fact for us Nepalese trekking is a way of life. Whether we are terrace farming in the steep mountain slopes, fetching water, grazing livestock, embarking on pilgrimages to the abode of the Gods, we hike, climb up and climb down as if it were as easy as taking a New York subway. Even entering or leaving the Kathmandu valley was done on foot until the turn of last century over "Char Bhanjyang" or four mountain passes: Sanga, Baad, Pati and Chandragiri passes.

Moreover until as recently as half a century back ordinary folks in Nepal walked barefoot. I remember when I was young many of the retainers at my father's estate of Kiran Bhawan trudged barefoot to work. Fr. Cap Miller S. J. documents that when he first came to the valley in 1958 half the population of Kathmandu walked barefoot. Of course, the sun kissed tarmac roads whould never allow barefoot travel today. In spite of the doom and gloom prevailing over present day politics we must recognize that significant progress has been made to bring up the lot of ordinary people in Nepal in the past 60 years, but I am digressing.

Walking was a pristine pastime then, unencumbered by the challenging art of negotiating past polluting brick kilns and putrid garbage dumps prevalent at most routes today. Even the more remote villages dotting the outskirts of Kathmandu City were clean, the bio-degradable garbage emanating from them turning into manure in a self-perpetuating cycle of waste disposal management before affluence in the shape of plastic culture started permeating the disposal sites.

I remember walking with my father many times on half a day stint, sometimes longer. Those were the days before my father suffered a compound fracture of his left ankle relegating such walks to mere memories. One particular walk we took comes to mind. We visited his old retainer Mangal Dass in Naikap, past Chobar, Panga and Kirtipur a good two and a half hour walk from home. Mangal Dass had accompanied father to the front in Burma as his man Jeeves when he led the Nepalese brigade in support of the British war effort.

I remember the walk across innumerable paddy fields the valley was amply endowed with before population pressure and avaricious speculation in real estate turned those agricultural lands into haphazardly conceived concrete jungles as seen dotting the periphery of the valley today. Presently we arrived at the farm of Mangal Dass. One of his sons was about my age and we instantly took a liking to each other and we started playing around the farm. My father settled somewhat incongruously in a Dunlop cushion in this bucolic setting among the running chickens, quacking ducks and the curious water buffaloes. His old Rolleiflex box camera swung into action as he invited all the family members of his old retainer for a group photograph. He had a great passion for taking pictures as attested to by the plethora of photographs that covered every bit of the walls of his drawing rooms at our estate at Kiran Bhawan.

Before long it was time for snacking. Father took out his sterling silver hip flask as any self-respecting gentleman brought up in the Churchillian mold of bygone days would and started early cocktails. I enjoyed some honest home cooking while the boiled eggs started coming out of the kitchen. I remember this episode clearly although I was just seven or eight as it later became a subject for story telling of epical proportion; father had snacked on twenty eight boiled chicken eggs that afternoon, the feat would not quite go into the Guinness Book of World Records, but perhaps it came close! Such joie de vivre is uncommon in our mundane world.

I still keep alive our hiking traditions as both I and my wife like walking, sometimes with friends like banker Prithivi Pandey and medical doctor Govind Pokhrel, at other times in the "line of duty" as a tour operator. It all started with walking with father all those many years ago.

BRAGGING RIGHTS

2010-06-01T22:28:00.000-07:00

Growing up in a military household I was privy to all the military awards and decorations my father General Kiran Shumsher J. B. Rana had received during various occasions of his eventful life. As a child I remember looking up at him when he was donning his military uniforms - khaki, olive green, white - as the particular function might warrant. Then the medals came forth from a specially made box and he would proudly wear them across his chest, the miniatures on the epaulets. The Nepalese uniforms then were magnificent, a direct copy of the imperial British uniforms before changes were made making them more modest and less expensive to go with the austere times that followed.

I know that he was justly proud of the decorations he had received. In 1950 during the waning days of the Rana oligarchy he lead a Peace Mission to the Eastern parts of Nepal and in recognition of his services was appointed Deputy Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Nepalese Army. He was awarded the Most Refulgent Order of Nepal Supradipta Manyabara Nepal Tara (1st Class). The Order of Star of Nepal (Nepal Taradisha) was founded by King Tribhuvan on 19th November 1918 after World War I to reward military services during both war and peace.

In 1951 after the Rana era ended my father General Kiran was appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Nepalese Army at the seemingly tender age of 35, but his age belied his stature and ability. He reorganized the Royal Nepalese Army along modern lines having seen first hand the functioning of the British Army in the Burma front. He was awarded with the order of Trishakti-Patta (1st Class). The Most Illustrious Order of the Three Divine Powers (Tri Shakti Patta) was founded by King Tribhuvan on 27th November 1937.

Further in 1952 during the reign of His Majesty King Tribhuvan my father was appointed to the newly created post of Aide-de-camp (ADC) General to the king and decorated with the order of Suprasiddha Prabal Gorkha Dakshin Bahu (1st Class). The Most Puissant Order of the Gurkha Right Hand (Gorkha-Dakshina Bahu) was founded by King Prithivi Bir Bikram Shah in 1896 and it was revived and reformed by King Tribhuvan on 7th September 1932. During his tenure as C-in-C of the Army he also received the Order of Om Ram Patta (1st Class) that was founded by King Tribhuvan on 31st October 1946 and conferred on both Nepalese and foreign nationals of the Hindu faith.

Awards and decorations are given by the state to reward and honour the contributions made by the individuals in whatever area they excel in, military or civilian. It is both a privilege and duty of those individuals to receive these awards bestowed on them unless there is an overwhelming need to send a message. Actor Marlon Brando's refusal to receive his much deserved Oscar for The Godfather in protest of the U.S. Government's treatment of the indigenous Indians comes to mind. But the current refusal by a cast of thousands to accept the very first installation of the decorations of the New Nepal is nothing short of scandalous. What an inauspicious start to the "transparent" system that was created to honour us Nepalese by discarding all the feudal orders of the kings! Even a deputy prime minister has growled at the impudence of the state in awarding her father the second highest decoration of the state instead of the highest!

I know I will treasure all the orders my father received although they may now be museum pieces.

THE INCREDIBLE JOURNEY

2010-05-12T08:50:00.000-07:00

I never saw Mutka sober during the entire two weeks of his group's Nepal visit. He was a member of the specially constituted Finnish media group for the promotion of Nepal in the early nineties. Nepal Finland Society had helped me organize an educational trip for about a dozen travel writers. I personally escorted the group to various parts of the country; included in the itinerary were inspection visits to a few Finnish development aid projects like aforestation, drinking water and sanitation. Pokhara and Butwal were included in the itinerary. Driving in the bus while covering a particularly treacherous part of the national "highway" Mutka opened his bleary eyes and asked me a very pertinent question, "Why do people pay all this money to get a sore ass?"

Yes, why indeed! Travel in the developing world is fraught with difficulty in many fronts but in our own region it reaches a crescendo; the state of the infrastructure or the lack thereof, confrontational politics raging in all countries from Afghanistan to Myanmar and the awesome topography of the highest region on planet earth can deter even the most intrepid among travellers.

This story of a particular group I handled a couple of years back illustrates the enormous challenge our region coughs up time and time again. I attended solo the travel fair called IMEX annually held in Frankfurt and specializing in incentive travel back in May 2007 when the adverse security situation in the country and the attendant falling demand for Nepal deterred all my colleagues from attending. I remember David coming up to me and asking me to propose a program covering Nepal, Tibet and Bhutan for a group of 190 persons! The whole project seemed so farfetched that at first I thought it bordered on insanity. Was I wasting my time?

Returning to Nepal I did due diligence on the possibilities of giving service to such a large group at a time; how do we transport them, feed them, accommodate them? Does Bhutan have enough hotel rooms, what about flight capacity between Kathmandu and Lhasa and also between Kathmandu and Paro in Bhutan? What interesting programs could we tailor make for this large group? I found out that the group would consist of dealers of automobile tyres who were rewarded by BF Goodrich for achieving their given sales targets. Wow, I thought, this Spanish company must be rich!

Even settling for the most optimal period to visit all these countries at one time was like playing Russian roulette. Goodrich wanted to organize it for November 2007. Nepal announced the Consituent Assembly elections on 22nd November 2007, so with mutual consultation they decided to postpone it to April 2008. This was back in June 2007. Lo and behold the election was postponed by the Election Commission citing lack of sufficient homework and, hold your breath, it was re-scheduled for 10 April 2008, smack in the middle of the group's Nepal portion of the visit. We dared not postpone the trip a second time, lest the group move to another destination.

Decision was made to fly in the group with Thai Airways in two sub-groups of 95 persons each group arriving within two days of one another. Both sub-groups would be together in Kathmandu and Pokhara while alternating between Machan Wildlife Resort and Chitwan Jungle Lodge in Chitwan National Park before departing for Lhasa together. Bhutan visit was scheduled for the last leg of the trip. Hyatt Regency Kathmandu and Fulbari Resort and Spa were selected as the hotels of stay in Nepal. The newly built Brahmaputra Hotel was selected in Lhasa and the brand new Tashi Taj Hotel was selected for Thimphu, Bhutan. Incidentally the new Taj there was not yet complete and we booked the hotel after getting assurance from the management that it would be ready to take our group in the spring.

Then there was the question of the election in Nepal, what could be done on that day? I decided to have the whole group of 190 persons stay at Fulbari Resort and Spa in Pokhara and participate in recreational activities and short hikes. Transporting them to view monuments and scenic places would not be allowed on that day as movement was restricted. As the days drew nearer to the departure of the Spanish group from Madrid we were getting prepared while checking the political pulse of the nation. Disaster always looms from the least expected quarter.

Two weeks before the group's departure, after having finalized all the nitty gritty of travel in the three countries, we were shocked to discover the Chinese would close its frontier with Nepal indefinitely. Anniversary of the Dalai Lama's flight from Tibet is always an occasion for the rallying cry of Free Tibet activists and they had taken the anniversary of 2008 as their Holy Grail. Foreigners entering Tibet from Nepal had been found to indulge in anti-Chinese activities and there was also widespread unrest among the population including the otherwise peaceful Buddhist monks. China clamped down hard. The group was to visit Lhasa and other important towns for a period of 5 days, what could be done instead?

Both I and the Spanish incentive house Meta had to find a viable alternative and fast! Our logical conclusion was to offer the North India triangle of New Delhi, Jaipur and Agra instead. Meta concurred and I did the exercise of planning a route, taking hotel room allotments and booking flight seats. Within days I got news that the group spread all over Spain would not be able to secure the Indian Visa on time, so this choice of destination was still-born. India's tit-for-tat visa policy is always a bone of contention among my Indian counterparts.

Would it be possible to offer another 5 days in Nepal? This was not a mouth-watering prospect as we did not know what would come in the aftermath of the election. We also have a capacity crunch outside Kathmandu, Chitwan and Pokhara! Sergio of Meta is a cool customer; he suddenly came up with the idea of visiting Myanmar instead. No doubt the group would be excited to tackle this insular and Orwellian kleptocracy. But the destination would also give us logistical nightmares, how were we to fly the group to Yangon?

After talking to Thai Airways International the case seemed hopeless; at such short notice we could never secure so many seats on the Bangkok-Yangon and return leg for this journey. There are no other credible connections besides Thai Airways. Suddenly I remembered that a few years back the Nepalese domestic carrier Cosmic Air had done some exercise of mounting scheduled flight service to Yangon when my friend Lawrence Liew was managing the show. He had tried hard but the inscrutable generals would not give Cosmic the permit. So at least a window of opportunity was now open with Cosmic; could we charter their F-100 hundred seat aircraft to fly our group in two batches? Sergio was getting frantic and I, sleepless.

Cosmic Air took up this challenge with alacrity as this was both a business opportunity as well as a test case to uncharted territory. Promptly the managers decided to send a representative to apply for the permits and coordinate with our local ground-handling agent in Myanmar. Upendra left for Yangon and for the next few days disappeared from view. The group would be leaving Spain and we still did not have a viable option for them!

The group arrived in Nepal in two groups as pre-arranged and embarked on their remakable journey unbeknownst to them that we still did not have the Myanmar charter permit, although Upendra had come back to us after a nail-biting gap of a few days as Burma internet had gone on the blink! An incentive group is always a joy to receive but it is also as painful as a root canal job when it comes to taking care of the minutiae. We had to totally concentrate on the considerable challenges on the ground while still keeping a weary eye on e-mails from Yangon. The group finished its Kathmandu sojourn and proceeded to Chitwan, no news yet from Myanmar. The group arrived in Pokhara, no news yet from Myanmar! The Constituent Assembly election took place amidst an eerie atmosphere of dawn to dusk security clampdown perhaps presaging the even eerier result it would throw up! I remember that evening Sergio calling me from Pokhara with an anguished voice. He would need to break the bad news to the group at the eleventh hour if the news from Myanmar was negative!

It was during the days following the election when the disbelieving world of politicians and pundits, pollsters and rights activists was mulling over the improbable and even apocalyptic result of an overwhelming CPN (Maoist) victory over Nepali Congress, United Marxist-Leninist and other parties that we got the good news from Myanmar that, yes, the charter permission to fly from Kathmandu and land in Mandalay was secured by Cosmic Air. They could take 2 flights of F-100 and transport our group. Rest was easy; after a few days of visiting Mandalay and Bagan, they would drive to Yangon and fly to Bangkok.

Nepal, Tibet, Myanmar, the very mention of these destinations soars the imagination of intrepid travellers. BF Goodrich did dish out a king's ransom to organize this trip and, yes, there were many sore asses. But where Mutka got it wrong was that the 'high' of participating successfully in such a trip is well worth the challenge our region frequently throws up.

EASY RIDERS

2010-04-14T21:16:00.000-07:00

From Bhadrakali Temple facing Singha Durbar, where the equestrian statue of King Prithivi Bir Bikram Shah Dev (frequently mistaken for a Rana prime minister) stands, I often revved up the engine of my new motorbike for a moment or two of glory and raced towards the statue of Prithivi's namesake ancestor. The year was 1971 and I had acquired a 90 c.c. Honda motorbike from Japan to take me to college. In that short stretch of road I always hit speeds of 110 kph and more before braking.

I was no legend in motorbike antics like Uday Gurung, a Nepali Evel Knievel or another daredevil driver like Tri Bikram Singh, the local Schumacher of our time. Tri was peforming tricks in his Hillman Hunter like executing hairpin turns in crowded New Road. Those two had a cult following among some of my friends who had just passed from school and had started to live life on the fast track. Our normal conversations would not be complete without pointed tribute to their latest exploits!

There were a few more racing roads then. The stretch of road from the airport to Bhaktapur had just been completed with Chinese enterprise, the road eventually leading past Bhaktapur to our border with Tibet at Kodari, and this was the Grand Prix circuit. In those days the road was comparable to the broad and empty avenues of today's Pyongyang. I had acquired a battered yet historic BMW 2000 4-door sedan that was passed down from King Mahendra to his prime minister Dr. Tulsi Giri who was a car aficionado. The car had changed hands some and the performance was erratic as its twin carburetor never agreed to work in tandem. My father nicknamed it "Bad-Mash Waihat", not a flattery in colloquial Nepali and as an oblique dig at my stubborn insistence to own it. I often raced this car to Bhaktapur.

I remember an overnight excursion to Kodari some of us friends embarked upon in 1971. There was an aura of excitement that morning when we started out but a little bit of dread of the unknown was hanging in the air too just like the thick wintry morning fog: a bunch of teenagers travelling in one car and a motley mix of motorbikes is a cause of concern! We were to reach the border and backtrack a bit to camp by the Sunkosi riverside. Visibility was poor and the first casualty was my motorbike which was in front of me and abruptly disappeard before my eyes as I was sitting in the front seat of Siddheswor's brand new Datsun. My mobike had done a belly-up in the rice fields near Banepa with the driver Yogendra dusting off his trousers, disheveled but otherwise unhurt. We left the leaking motorbike in a garage in Banepa and proceeded.

Not long after the second accident of the morning took place. Driver Surendra Man Shrestha in his 125 cc Yamaha and pillion rider Birat Simha had missed a turn at Dhulikhel and flew into the rice terrace below the road. This time the motorbike was restarted and the journey continued. The mood was more somber now as perhaps we all knew that misfortunes come in threes. Then it started pouring.

The ferocious winter storm broke through the morning fog and rest of the way to the border hamlet of Kodari was a blur on slippery and often treacherous road. We took shade when the rain was too heavy to drive but managed to cover the journey nonetheless driving intermittently between rain and shine. Until accident No. 3. This one was serious. It was Gyanendra Purush Dhakal who was speeding on one of the motorbikes (I think it was Binod Khatry's Honda) and close to the border he sped through a road block; a thick buffalo chain running across the road caught him at his throat and he was clean lifted off his bike and landed with a hard thud on the metalled road. He was semi-conscious and he was bleeding from lacerations on his throat. We rushed him to a nearby health post for close observation and for whatever treatment was available then in a remote region.

The vigour of youth and the will for more adventure made Gyanendra's recovery miraculously quick; some strong local rum doing as much therapy as the prescribed medication at the meagerly stocked health post. Our attempt to reach Kodari and to glimpse the inscrutable Red Guards of Chairman Mao on the other side of the bridge thus thwarted, we returned to camp at Dolalghat.

I have no regrets although my new motorbike took a knock. I cannot imagine ever again in today's congested Kathmandu Valley doing what we did in our youth: the easy rides we took through traffic-less roads with the fresh, unpolluted mountain air caressing our faces. Oh! how I wish we could all transport ourselves back to the valley that was.

EAST WEST ROLE REVERSALS

2010-03-23T20:30:00.000-07:00

Each time I visited Hyatt Regency Kathmandu, the visits getting more frequent following the cessation of armed hostilities in 2006 until the world economic meltdown of 2008 melted away the boom in incentive travel; the management more often than not invited me to the coffee shop for lunch. From nearby Bodhnath and surrounding lamaseries there would inevitably arrive a table-full of chubby looking monks in their maroon habit to nibble at the delectable Hyatt offerings that comes, even to us, at prohibitive prices. This incongruous situation became even more curious when, under closer observation, thick Rolex gold watches were seen on the wrists of a few important members of the congregation.

I remember when we were attending St. Xavier's School in the early sixties, there used to be a huge Tibetan Refugee Camp in front of the Zoo adjacent to the school. The Chinese administration of Tibet had started a brutal campaign to introduce Marxist dialectical materialism to the ancient people of Tibet steeped in their own rich traditions, but to Mao's China the traditions smacked of superstition and feudal backwardness. Thus a wave of refugees had come to Nepal in 1959 following the Dalai Lama's flight from Tibet after a failed uprising and, under the auspices of the Swiss government, tented camps had been pitched in Jawalakhel. As a kid I was always scared of those fierce looking Tibetans with unwashed matted locks of hair and dirt caked faces staring at us with opaque eyes mirroring the hardship of the journey south on foot over the god-forsaken Himalayan passes to face an uncertain future. They stank of sweat and putrid butterlamps. Their kids did not play like us, often times cowering behind their parents watching the local children run and kick ball.

The mid-sixties saw the hippie movement come to Nepal on overland buses from Europe, flower children escaping from the ironic emptiness of western abundance, in search of a meaning to their unfulfilled lives. They smoked cheap hashish from Kabul to Kathmandu, got stoned on Dylan and Joplin, made free love and fooled themselves that this was Nirvana. Within a short while the emptiness returned, the purpose of life still as illusive as ever. Then they discovered the esoteric religions of the East. The Hare Krishna movement and Rajneesh transformed their beliefs. Around this time The Beatles experimented with classical Indian music by taking lessons from maestros such as Ravi Shanker, suddenly making things Indian fashionable. Tibetan Buddhism too attracted many hippies with promise of re-incarnation after death giving hope of a coming blissful life if certain corrective measures were taken today; a welcome antidote to the Christian notion of damnation and eternal suffering.

This is where the East and West met in the sixties and traded attributes. The westerners heaped their generosity on god men and incarnate lamas and made it cool in the west to be so different. They sold their possessions in Hollywood and Malibu and donated to build monasteries. They rewarded a particular god man with a fleet of Cadillac and Rolls Royce in the desert of Oregon. The hippies transformed themselves into monks and the original ones went to Hollywood in search of yet more souls to save. God does work miracles. Even as the Tibetan monks are enjoying the benediction of meals at Hyatt, in nearby Kopan Monastery are seen scores of Western followers living spartan lifestyles. East West role reversals have special resonance to me in this country as I grew up at the crossroads.

MONK PRINCESS

2010-03-07T19:57:00.000-08:00

The tall, silky maiden of that photographic album so lovingly preserved by her mother was ethereally beautiful. I used to flip through the pages in wonderment: she was with high society here, posing in a bikini suit there; raising a toast here, being toasted by a set of gliterrati there. She was a burgeoning actress in Hollywood then in the Marilyn Monroe mold but she had given it all up suddenly and inexplicably. As so often happens in life a call of a higher order had persuaded her to give up the life she revelled in.

Princess Harriet Straus Rachevsky was a widow in her sixties when she came to Nepal in search of her daughter pictured in those many poses in that photo album and also a grand-daughter she knew only from hearsay. She arrived in Kathmandu in the late sixties and found a place to rent in the estate of my father in Kiran Bhawan. Those were the days of the hippies, the precursors to the modern day backpackers who have famously made Nepal one of the top choice adventure holiday destinations in the world. She was an American Jewess by birth and a scion of the Straus banking family of Chicago before she secretly got married to a Russian titled noblity. She was of medium built, always seen around the house in slacks, matching blouse, a scarf tied around her neck and a large pair of glasses as fashionable then framing a face that was beginning to go craggy. She stood with both hands behind her lower back supporting her still upright frame, a common habit of hers, as she surveyed the many chores that needed to be completed that day, for that occasion.

She was very excited that day. I was in my early teens and I too was anticipating eagerly the outcome. Princess Rachevsky's daughter was going to visit her mother; finally there was to be a re-union of mother and child after all those years. A taxi and some fellow monks presently brought her to our place. She was unrecognizable from her many photographs I had seen of her. The blonde goddess of the photo album looked saintly wrapped in a maroon robe of a Tibetan Buddhist sect, her golden locks replaced by a bald pate, her sexy bikini looks transported to a serene visage of the truly blessed. Princess Zina Rashevsky had arrived to meet her mother.

Vladimir Rachevsky was the brother-in-law to the Grand Duke Boris Vladimirovich Romanov, his sister Zenaida Rachevskaya having been initially a mistress of but later married to Boris (pic). A direct decendent of Czar Alexander II of Russia and a first cousin once removed to Czar Nicholas II, Boris had fled the Bolshevik Revolution to the Caucasus in today's Georgia with his life and his mistress in tow. It appears that Princess Harriet Rachevsky's husband Vladimir was not a direct blood relation of the Romanovs but, as it happened so often then, titles were freely exchanged in foreign soil to impress and by the time Harriet met her husband everyone was convinced he was a titled prince.

Harriet had married her prince in secret in Paris in 1929 as this match would not be approved by her family. Her father S. W. Straus was a pre-eminent Jewish banker and financier in Chicago and this relationship with a titled Russian Orthodox Christian but possibly a penniless emigre would not be looked upon kindly. Harriet's two sisters, Louise and Madeline had both marrried their own kind in America. Harriet gave birth to Zina in 1930. The Straus family would lose their considerable fortune in the coming Great Depression.

From that first meeting of the mother and daughter Harriet decided to make Nepal her home to enable her to bring up her grand-daughter Rhea properly but at the same time remain near her own daughter. Zina had made the Kopan Monastery near Bodhnath her spiritual abode, one of the first Western convert to be ordained a Lama, the high priestess of Tibetan Buddhism. We can only conjecture what had made Zina give up a possibly lucrative Hollywood career to venture into India. Was it a love affair gone awry? Or did she just join the Hippie movement and flowed with the tide, a lost flower child? An account has it that she was always a wild and independent minded person. She appeared in Darjeeling in 1967 and she was instructed in Tibetan Buddhism by Lama Yeshe and Lama Zopa, both incarnate Lamas.

I remember Rhea as a shy seven or eight year old, an introvert possibly trying to cope with the new environment far from a Lamasery and a grandmother she had only heard of until then. She was in dirty and tattered Tibetan costume, unwashed and unkempt, when she first appeared in our place. Soon after she went to St. Mary's Girls High School nearby and the mischief and sparkle of childhood were seen slowly coming back. Princess Rachevsky was a doting grandmother. One often heard, "Rhea, Rhea....." reverberating around the house. Our handyman Ram Bahadur Majhi was already an accomplished chef under the supervision of the princess and many a time I looked forward to the yummy chocolate cookies coming out warm from the oven. Harriet was already in high gear as an American socialite in Kathmandu of the early seventies; dinner parties with the local high society, bridge sessions, Art Déco home furbishings. Sometime then I remember Harriet's sister Louise from New York visited her. We had a bridge session once with the sisters partnering each other and my father partnering me. Both my father and I were bemused to find that they quarreled like cats and dogs during the entire game, no doubt a throwback to an earlier sibling rivalry, each blaming the other for the unfolding debacle! Zina appeared on the scene once in a while.

That was until 1973 when we got the sad news that Zina had passed away suddenly. We heard that she had frozen herself to death while she was meditating in the Himalayas. Checking a few blogs on her life written by her contemporaries, peritonitis is cited as the cause of her death. Whatever might have been the case, there was no longer any reason for Harriet to continue living in Nepal. She soon decided to pack her bags and leave with her grand-daughter. I often wonder what became of Rhea. The last I heard of Harriet was when my father, while serving as Nepalese ambassador in Britain, told me that she had written to him from America, that was back in 1976 or so.

As a post-script I found a U.S. Social Security website that certifies Harriet Rachevsky's death in May 1993 in Los Angeles; she was nearly ninety years old! Another thing I learned searching for Zina was that she had a son too that we did not know about, one older than her daughter Rhea named Alex from her union with Conrad Rooks who directed the 1972 film Siddhartha based on the world famous novel by Hermann Hesse. Zina had trodden the path of the earlier Siddhartha, perhaps she was destined to be an incarnate Lama after all.

SILENT TRIBUTE

2010-02-27T05:27:00.000-08:00

As a kid it was always difficult for me to ascertain whether they were heroes or villains, some minor players in a Shakespearean tragedy or the main act itself. But one thing is for sure which is that I was always uncomfortable whenever this topic came up. Even before school I knew about those four as Nimbu Didi would tell me in hushed tones how they were executed. She lived near Shova Bhagabati so she was present thereabouts when Ganga Lal was shot. She would dramatically rip at her bosoms and say that Ganga Lal yelled while tearing his shirt apart baring his chest, "Shoot, shoot your own father, shoot" before the bullets made his body go limp. There is an apocryphal story circulating that one top Rana general himself snatched the rifle from the hands of a wavering soldier and shot Ganga Lal.

Martyr Ganga Lal

Coming from a line of Rana rulers of Nepal I, like many fellow Ranas of my generation in similar position, carry the burden of historic guilt for the martyrdom of those four. The Panchayat System of governance for Nepal concocted by King Mahendra from the socio-political ethos of ancient rural India, heaped blame on the 104 years of dictatorial Rana regime for all prevailing ill while conveniently arresting the growth of nascent democracy. We were taught at school that the Ranas had made the four youthful proponents of revolutionary change martyrs. The fact that it happened when my own grandfather was Prime Minister of the country did not help. I used to cringe at class whenever the subject came up at history lessons. The four heroes had lost their lives trying to help Nepal emerge from darkness. They had been murdered so that an exploitative political and social order would perpetuate. There was at least one redeeming factor that stood out in favour of Maharajah Juddha my grandfather I reasoned: he had spared the life of the fifth because he was a Brahmin. At least he had a good heart I consoled myself; he was God fearing so he must have been a good man I reassured myself.

Ganga Lal Shrestha was the youngest of the martyrs. Born in 1918 he was one of the three founding members of Praja Parishad, the underground movement launched in 1939 to press for political space for common Nepalese. He was caught by the authorities distributing pamphlets in Asan Tole advocating human rights and tried and found guilty of sedition.

Martyr Dashrath Chand

Praja Parishad had been the brainchild of Dashrath Chand Thakur of the Kshetriya clan of Nepalgunj who had the opportunity of studying in nearby Indian districts of Almora, Kumaon and Nainital and closely monitoring the burgeoning Indian democracy movement there. He was convinced that he had to start a similar movement in Nepal and found Tanka Prashad Acharya, a Brahmin, as the perfect complement of brain to his brawn.

Martyr Dharma Bhakta

Dharma Bhakta Mathema was another founding member. He was a body builder himself and was given the task of instructing King Tribhuvan in physical fitness. He also became the conduit between the unhappy and politically powerless king and the underground movement, the reason for his eventual arrest. Shukra Raj Joshi was the oldest of the martyrs. More famous as Shukra Raj "Shastri" having received a degree in Sanskrit, he taught at Allahabad University in India and was the most learned of the martyrs. He came in contact with the leading political figures of the time that were agitating for Indian independence including Mahatma Gandhi.

Martyr Shukra Raj

In the turbulent times of the forties when the world was at war and who was right and who was wrong hanged in balance for the victor to pronounce, retribution came quickly. In October 1941 Ganga Lal and Dashrath Chand were shot dead at Shova Bhagabati. A few months later Dharma Bhakta Mathema was hanged at Sifal and Shukra Raj Shastri was hanged at Pachali Bhairab. Tanka Prashad Acharya got a life sentence. I am now beginning to wonder if future generations will even remember them: there have been so many martyrs since. Martyrs are raining thick and fast in this land. Even victims of traffic accidents get this elevated status as the state pays monetary compensation to their families. We are besmirching our collective memory of the sacrifice of the first four.

On a personal note my father is much more associated with the democratic changes of 1951 which brought political power to the people rather than the ancien régime. He was elevated to the post of Deputy Commander-in-Chief of the Nepalese army following that epochal event. Lalit Chand, the younger brother of the martyr Dashrath Chand, gave his daughter in marriage to my eldest brother. Lalit Chand served as the Chairman of the Rashtriya Panchayat and he was a great friend of my father. I like to think that the Shakespearean tragedy ended in a reconciliatory note for us and animus buried forever.

EMBASSY ROW

2010-02-15T20:02:00.000-08:00

Santa Claus came to Lazimpat once every year when we had winter vacation from school. I used to wonder what Christmas was like at school, especially for our Jesuit fathers; somehow I missed it as we always had winter holidays when Santa hit town. But it was the Snow View Hotel in Lazimpat, an establishment even older than the reputable Royal Hotel of Boris fame, where we kids used to visit to celebrate Christmas. My father was the founding president of the Rotary Club of Kathmandu which heralded the Rotary movement into Nepal. In those days I did not understand the significance of the Rotary International started by Paul Harris in Illinois in 1905 and its messianic ways; it was simply that my father had important meetings to attend. The meetings were always held in the Snow View Hotel possibly due to lack of other suitable places in the insular world of Kathmandu of the early sixties thus ironically contravening the "rotary" or shifting nature of the meeting venues first propounded by the founder. The owner of the hotel Mr. Tom Mendies was one of the few founding Rotarians in Nepal.

Christmas was fun: bright fairy lights and white cotton wool on trees, Santa suddenly appearing ghost-like and frightening us kids and then placating us with gifts, Christmas Carols floating in the cool night air and the buffet table groaning under loads of mouth-watering cakes and puddings. There were a few childhood friends from school who attended. Nicholas Lissanevitch was there, son of Boris of Royal Hotel fame. And so was Deep Lamichane, son of another Rotarian, always there. I remember that it was actually Deep who thrust a prized Bubble Gum into my startled mouth for the very first time lest it be wrested from him by bigger bullies. Chewing gum was a relatively new mark of come-uppance then and I had joined the club!

The hotel was famous but the garage opposite it was even more famous, that was the garage of the Nakarmis where in a given time half the stable of vintage cars owned by affluent Nepalis used to be parked for permanent maintenance. I remember the Ford and the Buick from my father's forties collection lying rotting there because of lack of spare parts and even sparer enterprise until the garage devoured those cars one final time like some steel chomping virus in a sci-fi movie. Lazimpat also was famous as the location of the British Embassy and after 1954 the Embassy compound was halved to give the new Indian Republic its fair share of representation. We heard many stories of the political casualties of various historical periods seeking refuge there. Jit Jung the second son of Maharajah Jung Bahadur Rana and first in line to the prime minister’s post after his uncle Ranauddip Singh was one of the first refugees to ask for political asylum after cousin Bir Shumsher mounted his successful coup d’etat of 1885 A.D. In 1950 King Tribhuvan’s feigned hunting trip took him to the Indian Embassy located then at Shittal Niwas the present presidential palace as a precursor to the end of the Rana regime.

Why write about Lazimpat you might wonder. I am sitting in a café called Vaude, something Germanic I think as sportswear bearing the same brand name is also on sale here. I am sipping Illy Cappuccino. The café is located right in front of the once private road leading to the British Embassy. The road now boasts the Radisson Hotel and a locally hewn Shangri-La Hotel. The French Embassy and the Israeli Embassy are just up the road. You can almost eat in any language in this main street. Recently there was an assassination of a media Moghul right in front of the French Embassy in this mean street. Ghosts of political refugees intermingle with Santa Claus in his many avatar in this historic section of Kathmandu.

THE RUSSIAN MADONNA

2010-01-13T23:35:00.000-08:00

http://www.masharasputina.com/

The closest I came to the real Madonna of popstar fame was the Russian Madonna, Masha Rasputina. She had it all; sex appeal, the awesome presence, the spoilt-brat syndrome of a Prima Donna and enormous talent. I remember getting vaguely excited when my Russian travel agent Helena Sorokina booked a group with a brief to look after this famous but difficult client. A Russian equivalent of People's Magazine had paid her to visit Nepal on a photo-shoot to promote the magazine as Masha had just released a huge hit single called, "Put Me on Top of the Himalayas". In the process Nepal too would be promoted in Russia.

The Russian ambassador at the time Alexander Kulagin looked scandalized, "Oh that wench has come here", he laughed out loud heartily. I did not know what reputation the Russian Madonna had back home but I was ready to cut her some slack. After a VIP welcome at the airport I brought her to Hotel Yak and Yeti, the presidential suite reserved for her use. The next morning I was to learn what handling a diva was all about. Along with her entourage and the Russian speaking guide I had arranged I too was waiting for her to come down to the lobby at 9:00 AM sharp for a photo shoot in Bhaktapur. She appeared at noon with a sheepish grin and a warm hug and exclaimed aloud, "Where is everybody?" as if she was the one waiting. She had set the tone for the rest of her stay.

I sent her to Machan Wildlife Resort inside the Chitwan National Park, to Nagarkot, to heritage sites for the usual photo ops. Sometime later I was most pleasantly thrilled to see a multi-page exposure of her Nepal visit with Masha in her many poses. It was a great exposure for Nepal in Russia and blissfully Masha did not have many of the scintillating poses she had struck for Playboy's Russian edition in an earlier photo shoot.

Oh, those Russians!

AN EQUAL MUSIC REVISITED

2009-12-19T22:08:00.000-08:00

My earliest memory of getting a really bad fright was from the loudest possible blast emanating from the Philips tube radio that I had naughtily switched on; I did not realize that the volume was on full throttle. I remember running out of my mother's room on to the verandah, out of sight and out of hearing distance of that heinous sound. It was that radio I remember listening to Radio Nepal songs and Radio Ceylon's "Binaca Geet Mala" hosted by the legendary Amin Sahni. The songs in those days were nationalistic as defined by King Mahendra's ouster of an elected government and banning of political parties. The songs all had one theme: king, country and Nepali-pan in roughly that order. I did not understand the politics behind it but I liked the tune and lyrics of Dharma Raj Thapa, Nati Kaji and Manik Ratna.

There was the HMV phonograph handed down from an earlier period in which I listened to the numerous 45 rpm records in my father's extensive collection. Nimbu Didi my caretaker cranked the machine with zeal as she knew a thing or two about music having been brought up since childhood in a household of a royal collateral in Birgunj where her mother was the talime, the trainer of music and dances. His Master's Voice with the iconic white dog with tilted head listening to the phonograph defined music for me. Didi sang together bhajan devotionals, love songs, and patriotic songs with equal fervor, many times playing her harmonium. Only my voice would not lilt and she hid her disappointment well.

Technology changed and I remember in the early sixties a Panasonic turntable was gifted by a royal prince to my father. The 33 rpm long playing records were in vogue already and the sound was crystal clear and stereophonic, the sound coming from two different detachable speakers. We had a collection of English and Hindi songs. The Sound of Music and South Pacific defined the English film musicals. Dosti, Do Badan, and Sangam were the favorite Hindi film albums. I remember this player later went to school with me and during holidays our Jesuit priests permitted me to play music for the whole class to enjoy, a first I think in the annals of boarding school laxity. This turntable also accompanied us during the professional hunting trips organized by my father in the Terai and the evening bonfires permeated with the sound of music.

In the sixties there were two school friends who enjoyed music with equal fervor, Pitamber Rana and Dipak Bir Singh. I remember going to Dipak's house at Keltole in Asan, a skyscraper by yesteryear's standard and after walking many flights of steps we presently came to his father's room where we listened to music under supervision. Going to Pitamber's was different as there was less formality and many times I was with another friend Govind. Music defined camaraderie - Dylan, Beatles, Santana, Rolling Stones - thank God we did not get into hashish or even more lethal stuff. We grew up in the hippie generation of Kathmandu; lost souls in search of drug induced Nirvana. That was the time we had portable cassette players and we could copy and distribute music. From eclectic sources I replenished my collection constantly: Jimmy Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Creedence Clearwater Revival. In those days the prized music cassettes came with the hippies overland from Europe via Teheran and Kabul with tour companies like Exodus and Encounter Overland.

Music too defined our existence in the Brezhnev-era Moscow where I had gone to study. International students had an assortment of equipment to play the imported music and many played them very loud, the decibel competing one against another blasting the latest arrivals from the west. In staid Moscow where state run radio and TV stuck to classical music such as Tchaikovsky and Khetchachurian, a collection of McCartney, Boney M and ABBA made instant friends and lousy mornings. Somehow I acquired a quadro-phonic Toshiba in the spirit of things and blasted my hostel floor to the joy of many and, I am sure, to the chagrin of a few. My roommates were encouraging. To Clifton from Guyana it was Jimmy Cliff and Reggae, and Paolo from Brazil schooled in Phoenix, Arizona liked Engelbert Humperdinck.

Why this reminiscence one might ask. Well, I am toying with the iPod Touch I have acquired and I am syncing music from the iTune software in my laptop for my daughter who arrives here for her Christmas holidays. The iPod plays aloud brilliantly from a Logitceh dock with concert quality sound. I have to do this and that too blindly at times as the iPod was acquired in China and comes with Mandarin instructions. What a far cry from the simpler days of my childhood when Didi cranked the HMV and I changed the stylus to play the 45 rpm records and it was still equal music to my ears!

MAN KO BAGH

2009-12-16T21:18:00.000-08:00

Language defines culture and language in turn is defined by the proverbs it has. Those of us who speak English know how English proverbs give us an insight into how the English think. Do foreigners know how we Nepalese think? It is an interesting exercise to find choice Nepalese proverbs dealing with Nepalese culture, society and even mundane stuff of life we take for granted and reflect upon its usage.

In English one might say, "A bad carpenter blames his tool." What does the Nepalese counterpart sound like? We say "Nachna jandaina aangan tedo", in other words "one who does not know how to dance blames the dance floor for being unleveled".

In English revenge that lowly human emotion is personified by a dog, as in, "Every dog has his day!" Perhaps there were lots of stray dogs wandering the streets of London in medieval England and one of them would get its revenge by biting the taunting street urchins. In Nepal we address the eternal competition between the mother-in-law and the daughter-in-law living precariously together in a joint Nepalese family. "Kahile sasu ko pali, kahile buhariko" meaning some times the mother-in-law gets the upper hand and at other times the daughter-in-law. This filial competition has continued through the ages in Nepalese society.

English language refers to dogs again as in "A barking dog does not bite." In rural Nepal the swing is a popular pastime, especially during the festive period leading up to the Dashera holidays. Every village strings a swing in the largest tree available. "Namachhine ping ko saya jadhka", meaning the swing that does not function properly gets a hundred tug. Translation: the person without substance pontificates a lot. It is something akin to the English saying, "An empty vessel makes a loud noise."

We know that we cannot spare the rod and spoil the child, or at least Victorian England thought so. Fagin giving a good hiding to Oliver Twist comes to mind in Dickens' eponymous classic. Today the teacher or guardian would have to face a court of law for child abuse. In Nepal we knew that not only did we have to punish our spoilt brats, but also our wayward grownups. We say, "Laat ko manche lai baat he hunna." or in other words a person who should be disciplined by kicking will not respond to mere words.

When one is put in a big dilemma, we are in "between the devil and the deep blue sea." Both choices seem equally reckless. Hunter's have an equivalent in Nepal. "Nakhaun vane dinvar ko shikar, khaun vane kancha bau ko anuwar". The hunter bemoans the fact that he has bagged an animal after a whole day's toil, but he cannot come around to eating it as the animal looks like his youngest uncle": the hunter had killed a monkey!

"Lanka marne Hanuman, jash paune dhedu" is another classic from the Hindu epic Ramayana. To free the hostage Sita the consort of Ram from demon king Ravana's clutches, Ram's monkey general Hanuman attacked Lanka but the credit went to Dhedu, the bear for defeating Ravana. Sometimes in life we do not give due credit to the right person. Older people blame the collective failure of our leadership in providing good governance to a historical curse put on Nepal by women who were cruelly immolated along with their dead husbands in the funeral pyre adhering to the ancient Hindu rite of Sati. "Sati le sarape ko desh" or "a sati-accursed country" refers to this ancient curse.

How do we describe a hypocrite in Nepali? We turn to religion once again. "Mukh ma Ram Ram, bagali ma chura", meaning some one mouths "Ram, Ram" piously invoking the Hindu God for all to see but actually hides a sharp knife in the pocket. "Jun goru ko singh chhaina, usko nam teekhe", another version signifying hypocrisy refers to the ox. The ox without horn is named Sharpy!

"Ban ko Bagh vanda man ko bagh le kancha", a tiger (fear) in your mind is likely to devour you more than the real tiger in the jungle. A famous politician's fear during the king's takeover probably referred to this proverb as she fled through the jungles on motorbike to India. The real tigers are long gone with reckless logging and poaching.

"Mero Goru ko Bahrai Taka" or "My oxen always fetch the top price" refers to arrogance; whatever I do is correct. Is this what our Maoists feel?

"Raat rahe agrath palaucha", if a fallen seed survives the night cold, even a giant plant like the agrath tree (Shorea Robusta) does grow from the small germinating seed. Nothing is impossible. Has the seed of monarchy again been sown in Nepal?

RETURN OF A PRINCESS

2009-11-29T21:56:00.000-08:00

There was this slim beauty standing her ground meeting a variety of guests at a foreign legation as if planted there by some grand design. At closer look, required due to Nepal's transformation to a republic thereby erasing from our collective memories familiar royal visages, I realized that my wife had just shaken hands with Princess Himani, the last crown princess of Nepal following an introduction by the French Ambassador.

I could only wonder why such a scene did not take place more often when royalties were gracing the erstwhile Kingdom of Nepal. Ordinary Nepalese did not get the opportunity to be up close and personal with their sovereign king and his family zealously guarded and isolated by privileged courtiers. Too, the family members all but shied away during most occasions preferring isolation to high visibility, a bad and ultimately costly decision in image building. More than for reasons of security perhaps it was acts of lèse-majesté the inner circle feared most but in the world's only Hindu kingdom where most revered the king as an incarnation of Lord Vishnu, such fears were unfounded. And it wasn't always so.

I have seen this epochal photograph of the political leaders of the time following the Delhi agreement of 1951 between the Rana regime and the new political forces in Nepal. King Tibhuvan is sitting in an ordinary tinny chair with outgoing last Rana prime minister Mohan Shumsher and new home minister B. P. Koirala, all equal in the task of building a new Nepal. The body language did not betray subservience to the king, only respect. The king was a commoner then with a vision just like the rest of them. I have found in my father's collection another photograph of King Mahendra sitting cozily with Prime Minister B. P. Koirala on a sofa, an impossible sight to behold after the Panchayat polity changed prime ministers to servants of the palace secretariat.

Where and when did this bonhomie start to unravel? Was it during King Mahendra's time after the 1960 banning of political parties or was it during the time of King Birendra? When the king was already a Vishnu in peoples' hearts, why did he have to be enshrined in a golden serpent throne mile high like some mythological avatar floating in the heavens in Hindi films? Without the people there can be no king. Winston Churchill once introspected, "The Monarchy is so extraordinarily useful. When Britain wins a battle she shouts, 'God save the Queen'; when she loses, she votes down the prime minister."

Observing her closely and exchanging pleasantries with her at that reception I felt that Princess Himani is now the true proponent of royal rectitude; after all she is the mother of the only future possible "baby" king of Nepal. Is she taking the reigns of revival firmly in her slender hands as did some earlier regent queens of Nepal? Was there a grand design behind her conspicuous presence at the embassy reception? If so, I like this grand design more than most of those regurgitated by our chaotic republic. If and when the time comes, will she be able to win the peoples' hearts as she has mine?

DANCING WITH A KHUKRI

2009-11-25T20:38:00.000-08:00

Decapitating a he-goat with one stroke of the Khukri is not for the faint-hearted. My rite of passage into manhood many a time during Dashera at my father's maula puja came with my offering visceral support to animal sacrifices but by keeping at arms length from both the animal and the weaponry. Striking from a distance I was an expert at: beginning with an air-gun, then graduating to .22 caliber rifle I terrorized the avian population at my father's large estate at Kiran Bhawan, Dashera or no Dashera. But close combat was not my forte. Failing to decapitate the hapless goat with one stroke of the khukri meant bad karma to the house (and nobody thought of the goat here) and this burden I was unwilling to shoulder.

As Nepal is the last bastion of the oldest form of Hinduism yet unencumbered by the restraining influences of monotheistic Christianity and Islam as in India, we Nepalese sacrifice an assortment of animals to a plethora of Gods and Goddesses. We need to appease all these awesome deities who are forever ready to pounce on us poor Nepalese for slights real or imagined by offering animal blood instead of our own. There are many power centers in Nepal we are afraid to deny their celestial rights.

I recall during my childhood the nauseating car rides in empty stomach and pulsating head to many power centers of Kathmandu valley in the days preceding the maula sacrifice at home on the 8th day of Dashera. Starting from Maiti Devi we did a tour covering Sankata, Mahankal, Bagala Mukhi, Dakshinkali and Shova Bhagabati. All army officers of the Chettry warrior castes did this routine, ever more passionately they say with subsequent promotions as the pyramid to the top narrows. My father was already retired from the Nepalese army as its Commander-in-Chief so more than promotion for him it was a habit he would not drop. "I am retired, but not tired, "he would often repeat.

Gadimai is one of such deities, hibernating for years she awakes very thirsty. In an orgy of sacrificing some 10,000 animals are supposed to have shed blood to appease this particularly angry deity in a ritual dating back to ancient times. Droves of frenzied Hindus from across the border poured into Nepal to participate in this rite off-limit in their own country. To the uninitiated the danse macabre is reminiscent of primitive humans but for believing Hindus this is but another ritual just as commonplace as slaughtering turkey for Thanksgiving or catching the depleting populations of tuna in the ocean.

Perhaps the sight of thousands of headless animals heaped together is loathsome to view on TV as we are now exposed to scientific abattoir and meat-packing industry but the fact remains - in both cases the animals have lost their irreplaceable lives, the bodies to be chopped and consumed by us humans. Perhaps a closer look at modern methods too reveal gross violations of animal rights during breeding, slaughtering and packaging as protested by many animal right groups. Unless one is a total vegetarian one cannot really selectively argue for the most humane method to kill. All methods are inhumane.

But the slaughter at Gadimai did fleetingly bring to the fore the uselessness of carnage of such magnitude and perhaps will help more people become vegetarian, not a bad thing as we age. I have stopped offering animal sacrifice except for a duck, replacing the goat of late, once a year during Dashera at Dakshinkali and all my guns lie silent. Perhaps I am on the way to becoming a vegetarian like many.

JUNG BAHADUR AND THE COURTESAN - LOVE IN THE TIME OF EMPIRE

2009-11-18T19:14:00.000-08:00

Prime Minister Jung Bahadur Rana was the toast of London town. A prince from the Orient captured the popular imagination of Victorian England. A newspaper account of the period describes him as athletic, dark and handsome; bedecked in fine pearls and sparkling jewels like most Oriental despots. Jung had good reasons to be no less: he had taken state power in Nepal during the Kot Massacre of 1846, survived the Bhandarkhal plot aimed at destroying him a year later and was now, in 1850, the first prince from the South Asian Sub-continent to be invited at the court of Queen Victoria.

Both aristocracy and nobility vied with one another to give him the most opulent reception possible. On a particular mid-June evening when London warms up to a fleeting summer solstice, Jung was preparing himself for yet another party. Staying at Richmond Terrace, just a stone's throw away from Buckingham Palace, Jung had easy access to the drawing rooms of the rich and famous. He was already getting bored by the attention lavished on him. He was a man of action and his one goal was still unrealized which made him restless: his eagerly awaited audience with Queen Victoria who was resting after giving birth to a son, Arthur William Patrick, later to become the Duke of Connaught and Strathearn.

Jung was also missing his two wives. The journey from Nepal to England was physically arduous for the mountain prince having to navigate many days and nights the treacherous seas and mentally strenuous as the trip was heretical from the religious point of view. For high caste Hindus crossing the ocean meant denigrating one's status in society. Jung had taken with him huge casks full of holy water from the Ganges River for daily ablutions to expunge his sins. Jung took a quick shower and sprinkled himself with the water from the Ganges. He dressed himself in Oriental splendour: the chestful of military decorations, the bejewelled sword, the baju armband containing holy mantra prayers from the Veda and the sarpech, the headgear adorned with expensive pearls and diamonds.

A six-horse carriage was waiting for him. He drove with his entourage consisting of his two younger brothers Jagat Shumsher and Dhir Shumsher, his personal attendants and a retinue of bodyguards to London Tavern for a banquet hosted by the Court of Directors of East India Company. He wanted to quickly end the formalities and return home as early as possible. The hosts introduced Jung to yet another adoring group of London high society. The Kingdom of Nepaul was a friend of Great Britain and the supplier of the hardy Gurkha soldiers the Raj relied upon in those turbulent days of anarchy and mutiny in India. Jung expertly worked the crowd; slightly bowing to a Lord here, tipping his crown to a Lady there. He suddenly stopped. His sixth sense told him he was being closely watched and he turned around slowly to see the loveliest pair of big blue eyes he had ever beholden. Jung was bewitched. The host introduced Jung to the most arrestingly beautiful woman he had laid his eyes upon. She had long, flowing golden locks and strawberry complexion. Her name was Laura Bell.

A scandalous love affair ensued that would have far-reaching consequences for Nepal-Britain relations and Jung's own political future back home. Jung Bahadur was captivated by the youthful Irish lass, barely out of her teens but she was a courtesan of first order. Laura in turn was smitten by the aura of Oriental opulence and power personified by Jung Bahadur Rana. British India had lavished on his visit vast sums of money which he in turn now lavished upon Laura. Jung put her up in a fitting residence at Wilton Crescent in the very heart of Belgravia. It is documented that Jung spent £ 250,000.00 on his demimonde the sum of which was later underwritten by Governor General Lord Canning as a sign of further goodwill.

Jung spent his days in Britain reviewing march-pasts, inspecting armouries, visiting factories and getting a close glimpse of the masters of India he so admired. He knew that to preserve Nepal's sovereignty an alliance with Britain was not only necessary but absolutely essential; he had first-hand experience of the travails of his maternal grand uncle Prime Minister Bhimsen Thapa after the Anglo-Nepalese War was terminated by the humiliating Treaty of Sugauly in 1816. Jung now had another reason to stay longer in England, his paramour Laura Bell.

Jung Bahadur stayed a total of three months in England, mostly in London but also visited Coventry and Edinburgh. All the while his fondness for Laura Bell grew and he lavished one expensive gift after another on her. As the date of departure drew near Jung expressed his desire to stay longer in England but his brothers were successful in persuading him to return to Nepal fearing a political accident back home as Jung had many enemies at the Nepalese court. Leaving Laura Bell behind was heartbreaking. It is said that Jung's parting gift was an expensive diamond ring with a promise to fulfill her every wish.

As future events unfolded the political opponents of Jung Bahadur had sprung a trap for him upon his return and one of the accusations made against him was his love affair outside his caste. Jung evaded the trap once again and became even more powerful following his visit to Britain. He was awarded the title of Maharajah of Kaski and Lamjung by the king. Years later it is said that Laura Bell sent a written request to Jung Bahadur through the British Resident Colonel George Ramsay begging him to come to the rescue of the British during the Sepoy Mutiny of 1857. Accompanying the letter was the very ring Jung Bahadur had once gifted her as a sign of his love. The Nepalese court was divided over whether to help the British or stay neutral. But he could not deny the final request of his paramour. Jung personally led his troops to the gates of Lucknow. A few years after Jung Bahadur left England Laura Bell married a British socialite and settled down. Later she became close to Prime Minister Gladstone in a relationship historians are still trying to decipher. She was eternally working the corridors of power, a true courtesan to the last.

Over a century and a quarter later there used to come to the Royal Nepalese Embassy in London a socialite by the name of Moira Brown who claimed descent from Maharajah Jung Bahadur Rana, her distant ancestor an offspring of Jung from his England visit. I remember she was always in my father's guest list. Could there be a link to Laura Bell? The thought is intriguing; the incidents and accidents of history just fascinating!

ROLE MODELS - A TRIBUTE

2009-11-02T01:33:00.000-08:00

Muhammad Ali is credited with having recited the shortest poem in the English language. At a Harvard University commencement ceremony where he was the chief guest he delivered one of his trademark speeches although he was already suffering from Parkinson's disease. At the end of the speech somebody from the hall yelled asking him to deliver a poem. He was legendary for delivering off-the-cuff rhymes like "float like a butterfly and sting like a bee." To the hush that followed Ali volunteered, "Me, Whee"! There could not have been a more succinct way to describe his own persona, from a boxing legend to a conscientious objector to the war in Vietnam, from Nation of Islam member to being the greatest sporting icon of the 20th century; Ali has followed his conscience come hell or high water. Yes, indeed, whee, what a person! This poem with only two syllables allegedly beat "Adam Had'em", considered the shortest poem until then with three syllables referring to the lowly flea and attributed to the humorist Ogden Nash.

Ali has been one of my role models from the time when, even as Cassius Clay, he destroyed Sonny Liston to lay claim to the World Boxing Heavyweight Crown. In the TV-less generation we grew up in sporting action, just as tragedies like Kennedy's assassination, came stale on lame couriers. I remember reading the coverage in Time Magazine weeks after the fight but from then on I have been Ali's fan. I followed his travails like it were my own. In the twilight of his glory days he was given the singular honor of lighting up the Olympic flame in Atlanta in 1996, a fitting tribute to a sportsman whose inner flame would not be extinguished by life's vicissitudes.

I remember my father's role model. He was Colonel Jimmy Irwin of the British Army. It was from the Burma days. Sixteen Nepalese army battalions fought in World War II, led by my father the late General Kiran and my uncle Field Marshall Nir Shumshere Rana. Four of these battalions fought in the Eastern Active Service Area in India to thwart the final Japanese push from Burma into Assam. It was in this front where my father would observe modern warfare at close quarters and he was greatly impressed by the Englishman Colonel Irwin, his mentor. I remember at Kiran Bhawan there was a big portrait of Sir Winston Churchill hanging on the wall of my father's study along with a small autographed photograph of Colonel Irwin, the only foreigners jostling for pride of place in a house studded with a potpourri of pictures of Shah Kings, Rana bigwigs and family. Years later in 1976, while he was serving as Nepal's ambassador to Great Britain, I accompanied my father on a train journey from London to the Midlands to meet with the widow of the Colonel. Over tea and port wine they swapped memories. There must have been something to cherish in this relationship that time would not erase.

My own mentor in flesh and blood was Mike Blackall, my boss and general manager of the Everest Sheraton Hotel in its heydays. Mike came to the hotel in 1983 and walked willy-nilly into a general strike! He was not the cause of it for sure but I watched at close quarters the determination he showed in overcoming a possible debacle. Even then the debate between staff and management was acrimonious and we feared the worst. When the dust finally settled Blackall had won over the staff and we entered the best and most productive period the hotel has known.

Mike Blackall was dynamic and combative, a go-getter with a big heart. He led by example. He was strict but fair. I remember our lunch break; when we were piling up our plate from the buffet, Mike went to swim instead! Department Head meetings started daily at 9:00 AM sharp, there could be no excuses for being late. Once I was reprimanded for being late by 5 minutes and not filling in the previous evening's duty manager's logbook; I meekly accepted the admonition because I could not divulge the secret that I was drinking with Mike until 2:00 AM at his residence the previous night! Noel Coward's "Mad dogs and Englishmen......" strikes a chord! No wonder they ruled an empire where the sun never set!

Years later after Everest, in 1996, I and another English friend Robin Marston met him in St. Petersburg, Russia. He was managing the Nevsky Hotel where recently, he told us, a mafia style hit had taken place in the hotel's coffee shop and two persons were killed. He was as feisty as ever and he had undertaken a project to teach himself Russian! Only if I had a quarter of his energy I would have become a different man. What a "me, whee" of a man was our Mike! He lives a retired life in England with his wife Vicky and the last I heard his only daughter Claire was in Australia. As a member of the Royal Geographic Society he now leads specialized tours to Russia and the Baltic States as a pastime. Thanks for everything Mike and cheers!

MUSINGS ON THE NON-RESIDENT NEPALIS

2009-10-23T20:40:00.000-07:00

The "Lahures" were the first Non-Resident Nepalis conscripted in the Punjabi army of Maharjah Ranjit Singh at Lahore after the 1806 A.D. conflagration between Nepal and the Punjab. The "Lion" of Punjab was suitably impressed by the bravery and fierce-minded independence of the hill tribes of Nepal. They were the precursors to the "Gurkhas", conscripts in the British forces in India from the hills of Nepal. These soldiers, for over two centuries, have brought back their experiences, indomitable spirit and life savings to the motherland after retirement. The pension they get from the British and the Indian armies plays a significant role in modernizing the high mountain hamlets these soldiers left behind.

The progenies of the brave Gurkhas can be found in many places of the erstwhile empire. Besides India there are significant settlements in Singapore, Malaysia, Brunei and Burma and so on. These third or fourth generation Nepalese have taken local citizenship and created for themselves a niche in the host countries in certain sectors of the economy like providing personal and industrial security. Notwithstanding their present nationality the Nepalese are active in local organizations preserving and fostering Nepali-pan; from religious ceremonies to cultural festivals the Nepalese there do exactly as their kith and kin back home. Often times they take brides from the hills of Nepal.

Following World War II and the Communist insurgency in Malaya there were 5,000 Gurkha soldiers stationed there. From among these the government granted citizenship to about 600 and resettled in Rawang in Selangor, some 50 km from Kuala Lumpur. They are from four clans: Magar Rana, Chettri, Rai and Gurung. I fondly remember Bal Bahadur Rana, President of the Gurkha Society in Selangor and Federal Territory as a one man emissary non pareil. As a successful second generation Gurkhali businessman heading a huge private security firm, "Baal" was never found wanting when it came to doing Nepal proud. He passed away suddenly in the prime of life a few years back and he will be missed by many.

A decade after the reconstruction of Europe following World War II foreign immigrants started filling in the menial labour vacancies left by now affluent citizenry of many countries of Western Europe and they also started staying behind by taking advantage of tantalizing loopholes in their liberal immigration laws. Just as Turks and Yugoslavs were allowed in by Germany, Algerians and Moroccans by France, the favorite Nepalese work place was Great Britain joining their brethren from the Indian Subcontinent. When I was studying in London in the seventies, I came across many of the first generation Nepalese settlers there mostly working in the Indian Tandoori Restaurants. Their life's ambition was to make enough money to invite their families from back home, educate their children and invest in an abode. In the early nineties I found that half the village of Gulmi had followed one enterprising son-of-the-soil émigré to Finland! Two childhood friends from Nepal enjoy mixed fortunes in England: while one is still working in tandoori joints, another is a partner in a very successful accounting firm. Both will not return.

Perhaps the most successful émigrés of them all were the Nepalese students who were studying in the erstwhile Soviet Union during the Al Capone days of the breakup of the evil empire. They promptly left the classrooms and went into business, unlikely vanguard of the crass commercialism the demise of Communism presaged. How they went to Singapore and Hong Kong and carried back electronic goods to sell to a techno-starved populace, and eventually how they set up a huge shopping mall on an exhibition ground in Moscow that once proudly showcased "Exhibition of Achievements of the National Economy", well known by its Russian acronym VDNKh, are stuff of legend. Mammon had overtaken Communism!

Nepalese émigrés capable of getting U.S. Green Cards or its equivalent across Europe are there to stay for good. They have taken their children there for better education and when children are born there, they are automatically granted citizenship. There is no way these children will ever come back and adapt themselves to the penury their forebears coped with, nor can we expect them to. The world is our village now and we must fit ourselves as best we can in any corner of the world without chauvinistic Nepali-pan encumbering us. We can only wish fame and fortune on these Nepalis wherever they may choose to live. They may come back and invest in Nepal only if they see opportunities as elsewhere. But with a very few notable exceptions most of these émigré Nepalese are not at the top of the pecking order in their host countries and they are working hard just to make ends meet; they do not have the spare money to invest back home.

The third category of Nepalese in foreign shores is the labour force now prevalent in Saudi Arabia, Qatar, the Gulf States and Malaysia. They are there on short-term contract at a time, with neither hope of assimilation nor of citizenship. They are the true NRNs sending 100% of their earnings back home. They are the new Lahures who have helped the local economy when traditional resources like tourism and agriculture are running dry. They are the unsung, faceless heroes of the country who have taken to foreign shores to toil in blood, sweat and tears under sometimes excruciatingly difficult conditions. Constructing roads in 40 plus Celsius, or farming in tropical climes do not come easily to the highland dwellers of Nepal.

Whether one arrives at Kuala Lumpur International Airport or one checks in at a hotel in Dubai, the instant smile of the Nepali porter or the bell boy is testimony to Nepalese hospitality and discipline given the right environment of employment, sorely lacking in the divisive and disruptive trade unionism of present day Nepal. I remember several years back leaving my hotel in Kuala Lumpur to find the security guards clustered together and one of them animatedly explaining something of import. Curiosity getting the better of me I approached them to find that back home the king had taken over. All the Nepalese guards were confident that now things would get back to normal. I was aghast! Were not these people the constituents of a Maoist Republic? Why were they joyously greeting the news of the king's takeover? It then dawned upon me that most Nepalese would like to earn a living in peace without the political baggage forcibly thrust upon them by the political masters from the left to the right.

The Non-resident Nepalis are our representatives in the global village and they deserve our recognition as such. Dual citizenship is the umbilical cord attaching them to their country of birth. Whether they are Americans or British, Australians or Russian, they are also Nepalis and will always be our emissaries in distant shores and one day they will shine. Granting them Nepalese citizenship offers us hope and thrusts responsibility on them. I don't believe they can offer any significant relief to Nepal at the moment, but the future is hopeful.

RUMINATIONS ON FLYING BUSINESS CLASS

2009-10-16T22:46:00.000-07:00

Undoubtedly one of the great signs of social comeuppance is the privilege of flying Business Class. We see a cross-section of Nepalese society from the old landed aristocracy to the arriveste class of the New Nepal, from the "banksters" to the republicans fighting for the deprived regularly flying business class. "Cattle class", as opined by none other than Shashi Tharoor the ex-UN man, now India's rising star, is how the hoi polloi fly - those unencumbered by fat bank balance, "source and force" or overarching social ambition.

Business Class to me conjures up images of roomy seating in half-empty cabins, discreet service by alluring air hostesses, the pop of a Champagne bottle uncorking, heavenly meal consisting of seafood hors d'oeuvre followed by succulent New Zealand lamb entrée. There is, of course, a choice of fine red or white accompanying and selected movies in personal screens to while away the flying time. Importantly there is this sublime feeling that one is different, privileged, a class apart from those taking up the rear. The Bostonian Brahmins were the cultured, long-established, upper-class families of New England of the 19th Century; in the social hierarchy of the time it was said that the leading family of the Cabots spoke to the Lodges, and the Lodges spoke only to God! Flying Business Class at above 30,000 feet is coming closest to having conversation with God.

I have had my share too. As a frequent flyer myself in the job of making others travel, I have crossed the proverbial seven seas flying Business Class often times, with KLM, Malaysia Airlines, and Thai Airways. But often times too it was in economy, a bummer, a nagging reminder of the sagging fortunes of the Nepalese travel industry. On a recent flight to China and back I observed the emerging New Nepal flying business while I flew economy. A well-known female lawyer was in the front as well as a motley crew of Ranas and Shahs. So too were a smattering of NGO and INGO types taking undue advantage of the trust bestowed upon them by their unknowing benefactors. I drew satisfaction as I sat in my seat: the next one was occupied by a pre-eminent business tycoon I knew, someone who had been the King's minister a few year's back. Was he saving money or was he saving himself from undue exposure? Flying in business can have its own attendant risks too!
But there are also the deserving. In one of my flights to Mumbai were Dev Anand, Waheeda Rehman and Shahrukh Khan, artists of the highest caliber who have entertained millions. Once sitting together with Udit Narayan Jha in another flight to Mumbai I could not but be impressed by his friendliness and humility, uncharacteristic trait in a Nepali who had it made bigtime in Bollywood replacing the likes of Mohamed Rafi and Mukesh! And the undeserving: in another flight there was a Nepali minister and his entire retinue flying in the front courtesy of sycophantic upgrading while others who could contribute to the coffers of the near bankrupt national carrier had to be content with economy seating.
Let us observe who will in future have conversations with God.

THE GHOSTS FROM MY PAST

2009-10-09T09:33:00.000-07:00

The Headless Horseman, Murkatta in Nepali, was the bogeyman conjured up by Nimbu Didi every time she wanted to frighten me into submission. The mere thought of this Netherworld being shut me up promptly and I meekly ate the uneatable porridge, or drank the untimely glass of milk or went to sleep when it was still playtime. Murkatta was galloping amok at the Kalo Pul, the Black Bridge constructed by Prime Minister Jung Bahadur Rana bridging the Patan side of town to Kathmandu at Teku. I could imagine this fearsome creature stealing past sentries into Kiran Bhawan, my father's mansion, at midnight looking for me. I used to shudder at the mere thought of it. The Pachali Bhairab Temple near the Black Bridge was the least of my favorite deities simply because the place was too spooky to explore. They told me one of the martyrs was hanged there. Even during my teens I never dared drive across that forlorn bridge, day or night.

The Nepalese ghosts have so much in similarity with those in distant shores: either human imagination is alike or these beings once roamed the earth freely. The headless horseman appears in countless literature across the world. One of the most imaginative and thrilling movie sequences I viewed was filmed by director Peter Jackson in the Lord of the Ring's first installment when a group of headless horsemen thunder across the screen in an eerie chase. Another dreaded being is the Kichkandi, the voluptuous damsel out to seduce unwary travellers at night. It is believed this evil spirit in female human form slowly sucks the lifeblood out of men in repeated sexual acts. In China they have a similar female ghost known as Nu Gui and in medieval European folklore there is the Succubus. Perhaps it was the ancient version of the HIV Aids epidemic. There is one tell-tale physical abnormality of the Kichkandi, the ankles are joined to the legs backwards with the feet protruding behind. Men are advised to check the feet before giving a lift to an ersatz damsel in distress at night.

The Khyak is very common in Nepalese folklore; in every family there is an elder who vouches to have seen one. Some Khyaks are said to be playful and harmless, while others, in an older incarnation of YCL, would give a good thrashing to people while competing for space in rising human settlements. Khyaks appear in the bhandar and dhukuti, rooms where grain is stored or other valuables like gold and silver ornaments are kept. The resident white Khyak was even supposed to bring in good luck to the household. Another variation to this lore is the Bhakunde Khyak, the football-sized orb covered in hair that suddenly rolls at you at night and tries to trip you. A fall is considered an ill omen, followed by sickness and worse. My father was convinced he was attacked by one in Singha Durbar, the Nepalese Versailles, abode of the Rana rulers of Nepal when he was living there as a youth but he fought it away by giving one resounding kick. The original Durbar before a fire ravaged it in 1973 had 7 courtyards and 3,000 rooms, ample space for all the underworld beings to play hide and seek with us humans.

Nepalese folklore does not have a direct counterpart to Count Dracula and the vampire lore, but there are similar underworld beings residing in the Nepalese forests that are blood thirsty. We have a tradition of giving animal sacrifices to the Ban Devi, the forest deity who clamors after blood. I remember during my father's professional tiger shoots, a goat or a small buffalo was always offered to the Ban Devi to placate the spirit for a successful hunt.

My own experience during a mountain goat shoot in the mid nineties illustrates the power of the spirits that seemingly roam rampant in the dense mountain tops. The ominously named Bhugdeo, sacrifice-accepting deity, is a mountain peak on the Mahabharat range south-east of the Kathmandu valley. A 3 days trek had taken our hunting party atop the mountain in an earlier expedition. This time around a cousin Pradeep Rana, who ran an airline company then, had organized a quick helicopter ride to the ridge to save time and energy. I had eagerly taken up the offer. After a day of activity we settled down to the usual campfire and recounting of earlier hunting stories before turning in early in anticipation of the next day's excitement.

It turned out to be a night to remember. Before we fell asleep there was a hue and cry raised by our porters over one of their missing number. Getting back into hunting clothes and boots we organized search teams and set out to look hither and thither. We had powerful torch lights to see in the darkness and we shouted at the top of our lungs to be heard. All these activities not yielding any result, we reluctantly went back to sleep. I remember sharing my tent with my old childhood friend S. K. Singh. As I tried to sleep I had a feeling of something heavy weighing down on my body over the tent. It happened several times and now totally discomfited, I woke up my friend. We started chatting. Later we must have fitfully gone to sleep until loud voices woke us up in the first light. We got out of the tent to find out the reason for the commotion and, to our amazement, we found the missing person, now totally drenched, squatting by a hastily built fire and shaking violently. The story he told us was spooky.
In the evening while we were turning in, he had gone to fulfill his natural needs nearby when an unseen hand caught him firmly by the wrist and led him through the thicket in the dead of a dark night without him even getting a scratch. He was led down to a watering hole and dumped in. He does not remember anything after that and in the first light of the morning he was discovered by fellow porters atop a tree nearby. We were spooked and decided to dismantle the camp ahead of schedule and leave. The only satisfaction I got in the hunt was bagging a barking deer the previous day, while others in the party returned empty-handed.
Conventional wisdom tells us that growing human populations have displaced all the ghosts and spirits as we have encroached upon their natural habitat. But they are there and on queue they will all rise up like in the Michael Jackson's best selling video Thriller. On a dark and lonely Kathmandu night while driving alone one can feel the hairs in the nape standing and the heart-rate quickening if our mind wanders off to imagine a kichkandi flagging you down for a lift or a headless horseman bearing down on you at full gallop...

A LETTER FROM CHINA

2009-10-02T23:27:00.002-07:00

The first impressions I had of Red China was from reading the “China Reconstructs” propaganda newsmagazine periodically sent by the Chinese Embassy to my father. The magazine featured cherubic female workers and heroic male counterparts leaping forward in revolutionary pirouettes. The workers’ paradise in the making had happy looking peasants tilling the soil, a sickle in one hand and the ubiquitous Red Book of Chairman Mao for inspiration on the other. There were photographs of factories producing steel, giant excavation works leveling mountains, digging tunnels and damming the mighty Yangtse River.

Being schooled in the English medium St. Xavier’s Godavari School run by Jesuits, I knew that what the magazine purported to show was probably not true. China was most likely a backward developing country producing shoddy goods and shameless utopia. After all we could see what was available at the state run National Trading Corporation’s warehouses and shops in Kathmandu. Mao’s thoughts were the only balm for the Chinese people who were deprived of their culture, history and religion.

I remember the aggressive Cultural Revolution exporting small Mao-head lapel pins to Nepal like to many other countries. They were distributed in friendship by the Chinese Embassy. For no rhyme or reason many people started wearing them in public. Shortly thereafter similar pins started appearing of King Mahendra and the Panchayat body politic started wearing them proudly - as a counter to the Chinese my father winked at me. I remember we had copies of Chairman Mao's ubiquitous Red Book at home too, possibly gifted by the Chinese Embassy but I found them boring. The consequences for Nepal could not have been foreseen then, but surely there were some other kids of my age who must have found all this enrapturing. We were to witness the consequences of this over three decades later in a colossal upheaval nearly as potent as the Chinese Cultural Revolution.

The Great Leap Forward had brought famine in China where millions perished due to ill-managed state planning. The Cultural Revolution had taken care of the skeptics and daring naysayers by labelling them "Capitalist Roaders". In those dangerous times we were perturbed by King Mahendra's hand at realpolitik building bridges to Communist China to counterbalance the ham handed Indian policy towards Nepal. People ominously started whispering that the Arniko Highway from Tibet to Kathmandu could bring in military tanks to occupy the valley within a couple of hours. What we probably did not realise was that the Chinese wanted Nepal as a buffer against India; there was no question during Chairman Mao's lifetime of Nepal's sovereignty being compromised by Chinese expansionism.

I visited China for the very first time a year after the Tienanmen Square episode; hundreds of students had perished when Deng Xiaoping made sure that the Chinese Communist Party would remain firmly in power even as he liberalized the economy. The Chinese version of Gorbachev's Glasnost and Perestroika would not be allowed to derail the party's hold on power as would soon happen in the Soviet Union. Arriving in Beijing from Hong Kong I was to behold the unforgettable spectacle of thousands of Chinese men and women pedaling to work in a sea of bicycles. The broad avenues of the capital city had very few cars. The Mercedes Benz stretch limousine placed at my disposal courtesy of the President of China National Tourism Administration Madame Lu Fenyang was quintessentially Orwellian; the leaders there too enjoyed all the trappings of any Capitalist leader. I was put up in a hotel designated for foreigners and my guide could not enter the hotel lobby but call me from a telephone booth to ask me out.

Lots of water has flowed in the Yangtse since. China has overtaken Germany to become the world's third biggest economy. Even last year's economic meltdown has not significantly deterred China's growth as has those of other leading countries. As I view the Shanghai cityscape from the luxury of the Portman Ritz Carlton executive suite, a stay I won in a lucky draw organized by China National Tourism Administration, I see more skyscrapers coming up to meet the expected demand for the World Expo to be held there next year. The hotel itself is located in the Shanghai Centre, an ultra-modern complex housing chic branded international boutiques with impossible prices. There is Louis Vuitton and Prada, Balenciaga and Giorgio Armani, Cartier and Piaget in a kaleidoscope of Capitalist vanity and incongruously in a giant screen in the foyer they were airing an old revolutionary documentary of Chairman Mao's exploits to mark the coming 60th Anniversary of the Peoples' Republic. China has reconstructed in ways Chairman Mao could never have predicted!

THESIS, ANTITHESIS, SYNTHESIS

2009-09-04T03:54:00.000-07:00

The fundamental cornerstone of Marxist Dialectical Materialism, a cycle of action and reaction each time bringing a solution of a higher state elucidated by the principle of "Thesis, Antithesis and Synthesis", is often cited by our revolutionaries as the raison d'être of the serial revolution wrenching the heart and soul of this land. Recently this aspect of Marxism was brought to the fore by Hisila Yami in an interview with "Tehelka", a newsmagazine published in India and in an op-ed published by Kantipur.

History has proven time and again that this theory is very far removed from reality. The "Thesis" can bring "Antithesis" but the "Synthesis" we want often goes awry. The French Revolutionaries did not expect the rise of Napoleon Bonaparte, an emperor in new garb who wrested dictatorial power for himself in the pretext of liberté, égalité, fraternité. The revolution had devoured its own children and given rise to an emperor! Nor did they expect the return of the Bourbon Monarchy once Napoleon was ousted. The "Thesis" that the Bourbon Monarchy was the yoke on the French people brought the "Antithesis" of the French Revolution, but the "Synthesis" brought about unexpected calamity to the French with the eventual disastrous turn of the Napoleonic Wars.

The "Thesis" that the Russian Revolution was the saviour of the peasantry and working class people, brought about the "Antithesis" of the decade long Civil War pitting the Red and the White armies against each other, and the "Synthesis" emanating from this was the brutal dictatorship of Joseph Stalin, a tyrant more malignant than Czar Nicholas II. Perhaps as many as 20 million people perished in his pogroms.

Examples are many but in Nepal too this central tenet of Dialectical Materialism is often cited by our own Maoists as the reason for the successful transition from conflict, both within the party and without, to something more sublime. This is just wishful thinking as we can see for ourselves where the country has plummeted since the start of the serial revolution. There have been plenty of thesis and antithesis, but where do we see the synthesis we need?

It is foolhardy to extrapolate solutions from obtruse theories. It is inconceivable that ideas formulated in Europe two hundred years ago can be totally applicable in our context, whereas even in the mother countries these theories have had a host of skeptics. Those who do so are experimenting in folly. There is one word we Nepalese should heap on all this nonsense: bullshit.

TALKING MOVIES

2009-09-01T06:09:00.000-07:00

At St. Xavier's Godavari School the biggest punishment one could possibly get was missing the next monthly movie. We were some of the very few who were privileged to watch Hollywood movies in the Kathmandu of the sixties, courtesy of our Jesuit fathers and their excellent relationship with the American missions in Nepal. Hindi movies reigned supreme in local cinemas and there was no market for English language films, except for a few mega hits once in a while, like Ben Hur, Lawrence of Arabia and The Ten Commandments. When a punishment was meted out for transgressions and we missed a Sunday movie, there was no consolation. One sat in an empty classroom reading, cast away like a leper, while rest of the student body was transfixed by the visual imagery dancing on a large white screen. Yes, I have been there just once but it felt at the time like a lifetime.

My first recollections of movies screened on to a white screen was at home. They were often times grainy, black and white, silent films shot in 16 mm from my father's hunting collections. There was a potpourri of these amateur films: Maharajah Juddha shooting wild buffaloes in Koshi Tappu, King Mahendra's hunts, my father shooting tigers when he was the Commander-in-Chief of the Nepalese Army, iconic images of my father posing with a tiger he shot with a Colt .45 pistol. The indelible impressions I carry of these early introduction to moving pictures must have helped make me a movie buff forever.

The movies from the fifties and early sixties were our monthly diet at Godavari. There were big films then with even bigger stars; Gregory Peck in To Kill a Mockingbird, Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca and Steve McQueen in The Sand Pebbles to name a few. Some of us became such ardent fans of movie stars to the extent that even our mannerisms noticeably changed. I remember our classmate late Lekh Rana transforming himself into Santee taking after the gun slinging hero of an eponymous Western movie. Another friend Buddha Basnyat reinvented himself as Paul Newman, the luminous smile, the forrowed brows, et al, sans the blue eyes.

One looks back with bemusement watching romantic love scenes in a Jesuit school. The moral censorship consisted of a strategic palm on the cine projector lens just before a film sequence went "adult" rendering the screen blank to our protesting howls and hooting from the older students. We could only imagine in our mind's eye Elizabeth Taylor being kissed by the handsome hunk Rock Hudson, pretty innocuous stuff compared to what children are exposed to today. Of course, James Bond movies were beyond the pale.

There were some horror movies that scared the pants off us kids. Village of the Damned comes to mind in particular. I remember my friend Mahendra Jib watching the scary scenes through gaps on his fingers held over his eyes. Oh, how we jumped when the villainous Alan Arkin character pounced on the blind housewife played by Audrey Hepburn in the climactic sequence of the terrifyingly great Wait Until Dark!

I particularly enjoyed the "post mortem" of epic movies like Doctor Zhivago or Gone With the Wind. The Jesuits filled us in on the historical and social background of the films with great erudition and we transported ourselves back to the grim canvas of revolutionary Russia or to the near death throe of a young American Union over the question of slavery. We learnt how to analyze the films and we were encouraged to interpret them with our own faculty. We let our imagination run rampant with "what if" and "why not".

That is probably the reason why I joined the Cine Club when it came to signing up for extracurricular activities in the 10th Grade. Orson Well's Citizen Kane was the trail blazer in cine techniques used even to this day. We also viewed art house movies of many of the world's best directors including those of Ingmar Bergman, Akira Kurosawa and Satyajit Ray. The potential of cinema was mind-boggling.

At school I meticulously kept a list of movies I saw in long hand, including the names of the stars and sometimes of the famous directors too. Perhaps I had a secret ambition to get into films behind the camera, I cannot say for sure now. Somewhere down the school years I misplaced the list. It was like losing a close intimate part of me. To this day I do not miss a good movie given half a chance; perhaps I am subconsciously making up for missing that movie once upon a time in Godavari School.

PHOTO ESSAY

2009-08-27T06:52:00.000-07:00

Perhaps the Allied Victory Parade in London on 10th of June 1946 was the Swan Song of the British Empire before it started unraveling a year later with the independence of India (and Pakistan). Looking at the photograph of the Nepalese contingent led by my father Major General Kiran Shumsher J. B. Rana marching past the grandstand where King George VI is taking the salute, I can only marvel at the empire that was! How soldiers from the Himalayan foothills found their common cause with the rest of the empire, fighting in Gallipoli, Monte Casino and Burma is well documented in history.

I recently read an acerbic columnist asserting that the Nepalese contribution to quash the Sepoy Mutiny of 1857 was the act of a vassal state. A nation must act to protect its own interest first and foremost. If our present day leaders were as far-sighted as Jung Bahadur, Nepal would not be unraveling today!

FAUX PAS

2009-08-22T04:20:00.000-07:00

After a season of faux pas highlighted by the foreign minister's itchy throat preventing her from joining the prime ministerial delegation to India and the prime minister raising a toast to "Prime Minister and Madam Manmohan Adhikari of India" in New Delhi, it is a timely exercise to try to recall some more in our history.

The first Vice President of the Republic of Nepal took his oath of office in Hindi. This faux pas could not be overlooked by serious minded Nepalese who took it as an affront to Nepali nationhood. The Supreme Court ordered him to retake the oath in Nepali. The Vice President refused to do so keeping the President and most of the cabinet members waiting in vain at the anointed place and time. To draw on an analogy often used to describe Nepal the country, the erstwhile VP is now like a yam between Madhesi militancy and Nepali righteousness; not a comfortable spot to be boxed in.

I recall Maharajah Juddha's own faux pas in his time as the prime minister of Nepal that I had heard as a child. Not fluent in English he had a translator around while meeting with foreign dignitaries. During a meeting with an Englishman a word escaped him. He turned to his translator and asked, "What is the English word for 'sancho'?" Not knowing in what context he was asked, the translator replied, "Key, sire." Juddha turned to the Englishman and confided, "You speak key, sir!" Alarmed that he had given a wrong translation of the Nepali word the aide quickly interjected, "That 'sancho' is 'truth', sire"! "Forget it", waived off the Maharaja, "I have already spoken". I wonder whether the Englishman wrote his memoirs.

Another apocryphal story comes from King Mahendra's first state visit to China. During the state banquet hosted by the Chinese head-of-state, Queen Ratna's mistimed attempt at cutting through her chicken breast with a knife landed the dish straight onto the host's plate! In a land of crouching tigers and hidden dragons, perhaps a flying dead chicken was taken in good stride too!

There is another revealing anecdote from history: Maharajah Chandra Shumsher was known to imbibe a healthy potion of imported brandy regularly but one day during a military parade at Tundikhel parade ground under the famous Khari-ko-bot, the shady ficus tree, he was visibly sozzled. The British resident present was said to have rebuked him in no uncertain terms. Perhaps out of shame or with dire vision of personal calamity the loss of British support might ensue, deeply chastened, Chandra Shumsher became a teetotaller thereafter.

After his Coup de main ousting democratic polity in Nepal King Mahendra was as feared as any Rana prime minister. While forming his first cabinet the king sent two of his aides to a certain politician for consultation. Fearing his immediate arrest, the would-be minister was supposed to have climbed to his roof in crowded Asan Tole and fled into political oblivion.

The biggest faux pas of them all was undoubtedly committed by Prachanda by gloating over the falsification of the People's Liberation Army head count and how the Nepalese Maoists had hoodwinked the international community and its watchdog UNMIN. Unfortunately for him there was a camera around catching the act for perpetual replay by the bourgeois enemy media. Things have gotten rotten for him thereafter. We await more gems to be revealed.

MINDING OUR MANNERS

2009-08-14T23:18:00.000-07:00

This article is dedicated to

Fr. James J. Donnelly, S. J. (1929-2009)

and his Brown Bomber

There is an anecdotal story of a Western salesman coming to Nepal and showing his ware to prospective buyers. Every time the salesman asked whether they liked something, the Nepalese traders would shake their heads from side to side. The salesman soon left very disappointed, never knowing that the Nepalese were absolutely pleased by what they saw and their appreciative head-shake meant "Yes, we like it!" Rudyard Kipling wrote, "Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet" in his eponymous ballad. Indeed our manners and mores can be confusing to others.

Westerners are alarmed by the habit of the Nepalese sticking their tongues out looking like reincarnated goddess Kali destroying the demon Mahisasura, especially if they have been chewing paan, betel leaves. They need not be alarmed; it is a simple expression of shock intermingling with relief indicating that a big calamity was averted at the last minute. It is an "Oh! What could have happened!" reaction. In the olden days when one yawned, a companion would "snap" his or her fingers several times making loud popping sound. I never knew the reason why. When one sneezed, a friend would exclaim, "Luxmi Narayan!" It was an invocation to the Gods for blessing against sickness. You find people blowing at their fingers if they inadvertently touch their throat. The reason? Perhaps just superstition.

Foreigners riding taxi cabs must notice the number of times the driver touches his forehead as he passes by temples and stupas; as he crosses streams and rivers. It is a flying salute to the Gods, an acknowledgement of His holy presence en route. It is also a quick oneness with divinity before Kathmandu's worsening traffic pressure brings back the devil's own sanguinary thoughts.

Nepalese laughter can be sometimes annoying: people even laugh if you nearly maul them down in the chaotic streets of Kathmandu. No, they are not taunting you; they are admitting guilt with shame for having broken the rules, shame for having been in such a tight spot in the first place. Western faces would darken with fear and anxiety while we Nepalese blush and smile - an anachronistic portrayal of unmitigated innocence.

Foreigners visiting our dignitaries in their offices or watching news on TV are aghast at the ubiquitous Chinese bath towel with bold floral prints draped on every official chair. Why is the use of the towel re-invented by us? Possibly because its use prevents sweat from ruining the original upholstery and save our tax payers' money. Or is it because of the lack of a hook in the toilet? This is a great subject for an anthropologist!

I remember a real life story told to me by my friend Mikhail Vinding who was in the Danish Foreign Service at the time of King Birendra's state visit to Denmark. At a formal reception a waiter was about to hand over a glass of wine to His Majesty with his left hand; Vinding quickly intervened and took the glass in his own correct hand before serving the king. A faux pas was averted! In Nepal one does not offer anyone, may he be a prince or a pauper, anything with the left hand. Left hand is for unclean acts. Foreigners should be careful while showing off their ambidexterity!

How many times while sitting at restaurant tables are we rudely surprised by a loud belch emanating from a nearby table? The person has had his fill and he is appreciating it with bad table manners by today's etiquette, but it was probably not so disgusting even a generation back. I was reading that a Chinese guest shows utmost appreciation of his host's hospitality by belching loudly: the host knows that his guest is full.

Talking about table manners how we Nepalese love eating dal-bhat with our fingers, a feat very difficult to master, perhaps as difficult as eating sticky rice with chopsticks to us. Foreigners need not try to please us; it is well accepted that they eat with knives and forks when invited to Nepali homes. As for me I always use western implements because I am afraid I would eat twice the amount with fingers! The food certainly tastes better.

But there is one bad Nepali habit I do not condone; even many of the Western-educated slurp their soup loudly at formal tables. Soup was never part of our diet, I guess, but we should learn to do in Rome as the Romans do. The age of innocence is over. Ke garne?

AMONG EQUALS

2009-07-20T01:51:00.000-07:00

The first journey I undertook across Europe was by train from Russia to England. After four months in cold and bleak Moscow I was to spend the winter break from college with my father in London and I had secured the exit visa, an improbable feat then as students were not normally allowed to travel outside Russia during the first year in college. Not having been in Western Europe before the journey, the prospect of traversing Europe through 3 time zones and countless languages was exciting.

I and my travel companion Janardan Kumar Shrestha, JK to friends, was my senior at our school in Nepal and had already been in Russia for a couple of years. His command of Russian and resilience to the effects of vodka would stand me in good stead during this journey. Our train started from Kievski Station in Moscow bound for Brest-Litovsk, the historical town on the Polish frontier best known for a treaty the Russians signed with Nazi Germany before World War II.

I remember some remarkable oddities during my journey which would stand out like a sore thumb in the melting pot Europe has become today with the expansion of the European Union eastward. At Brest we had to change our train from the broad gauge Russian track to the narrower gauge Continental. Passport control took place frequently as we traversed through geography and history. It was at the height of the cold war. Soviet Immigration checked the exit visa at Brest and Polish immigration checked the Polish transit visa. After having crossed Poland, similar formalities awaited us at the Polish - East German frontier. This was repeated at the East Berlin - West Berlin divide, while entering and leaving West Berlin. Then we were checked once more at the East German - West German border. Finally we entered Holland and sailed from the Hook of Holland to Harwich in England. Juxtaposing with today's seamless travel possibilities in the borderless European Union, my journey was no doubt an ordeal but it was the stuff of history I would be poorer without.

The trip was like watching a monochrome movie slowly changing to Technicolor as we traversed the continent westward. From Moscow to Kiev and on to Brest the journey was a bleak canvas of Russia in remiss, a vast grey land yet to be touched up from the artist's palette. The artist finally stepped in at the Polish
frontier somehow turning even the mundane farmlands more colourful. Warsaw was like a breath of fresh air even then, an ethereal reminder of the ephemeral but feisty sovereign state forged by the independent minded Poles taking the opportunity of the Russian revolution only to be crushed later under the jackboots of Adolf Hitler's invading army. The liberation following the end of World War II was anything but; the Soviets installed their own puppets under the guise of a Socialist national liberation movement. This was my first visit to Poland and fate would bless me with many more to come.

Having met and later married a Polish lady back in 1979 I have had front seat view of the tumultuous times history would once more heap on Poland. When I got married in a Catholic Church in Lublin, Solidarity was getting to be a household name, a movement that might succeed in bringing a new lease on life to an ossified society created in the image of another. Poles joked that their government pretended to pay them, and they in turn pretended to work. However, it was not to be. By the time I and my wife visited Poland in 1981 for Christmas General Jaruzelski had already outlawed Solidarity and declared martial law, an act of repression he later justified as a patriotic act to save Poland from imminent Soviet invasion. The jury is still out.

I remember in pre-satellite TV Nepal to listening to BBC Radio news broadcasts on how the Soviet bloc fell like the pins on a bowling alley. First there was Rumania, the hated Ceausescu regime fell. Solidarity won in Poland. Gorbachev became a hero when the Berlin wall came crashing down to liberate one-third of Europe. Even the Baltic Soviet republics declared independence. And finally Boris Yeltsin stood on a tank outside the Russian Parliament to announce the dissolution of the Soviet Union itself! There was boundless joy in Poland and we celebrated in Nepal with lightness in our steps and alacrity in our hearts.

I have come back to Poland once again in 2009, two decades after the heady days of Solidarity and the Polish Pope. Flying in from London on a Shengen visa, I was out of the terminal building in 10 minutes flat, through immigration and baggage retrieval. The Zloty is strong now at 3 to a Dollar, to make way for the Euro they say. Poland looks and feels different; there is growing wealth and sense of purpose. Poland is in business, among equals.

AYO GORKHALI !

2009-06-09T02:06:00.000-07:00

Ayo Gorkhali! By Amar B Shrestha (featured in ECS Magazine, June 2009)

Rifleman Tul Bahadur Pun was just 21 years old when he won the Victoria Cross (VC) for extraordinary courage under fire. He was serving with the 3rd Battalion during the Chindit campaign in Burma on June 23, 1944. An excerpt from his citation reads thus:“… the whole of his section was wiped out with the exception of himself, the section commander and one other man … The section commander immediately led the remaining two men in a charge on the Red House but was at once badly wounded. Rifleman Tulbahadur Pun and his remaining companion continued the charge but the latter too was immediately badly wounded. Rifleman Tulbahadur Pun then seized the Bren gun and, firing from the hip as he went, continued the charge on the heavily bunkered position alone, in the face of the most shattering concentration of automatic fire, directed straight at him… he presented a perfect target to the Japanese. He had to move for 30 yards over open ground, ankle deep in mud, through shell-holes and over fallen trees. Despite these overwhelming odds, he reached the Red House and closed with the Japanese occupants. He killed three and put five more to flight and captured two light machine guns and much ammunition. He then gave accurate supporting fire from the bunker to the remainder of his platoon which enabled them to reach their objective…”

Medals Galore
250,000 Gurkhas served in 42 Infantry battalions during World War II. Of these, 7,544were killed, 1,441 were presumed dead or missing and 23,655 were wounded. The Gurkhas received a total of 2,734 awards for bravery. Out of 100 VCs awarded during World War II, 31 of these were won during the Burma campaign and of these, nine went to the soldiers and officers of Gurkha regiments. Two Gurkhas also won the VC during the Italian campaign. If not for the fact that until 1911 only British officers of Gurkha regiments were eligible for the VC, one can assume that the Gurkhas would have won many more. As it was, Lieutenant John Adam Tytler, 33, of the 66th Goorkhas, on February 10, 1858, became the first officer of a Gurkha regiment to win the coveted honor for his actions in Haldwani (in what is now Uttarakhand State of India) at the height of the Indian Mutiny.

During World War I, 200,000 Gurkhas in 33 battalions fought under the British flag. They suffered 20,000 casualties and won 2,000 gallantry awards. Out of 26 VCs won so far by Gurkha regiments (1858 to 1965), 13 went to native Gurkhas and the rest were awarded to the British officers of those regiments. The Gurkhas have also been awarded two George Cross medals in addition to thousands of other lesser awards. The Indian Gurkha regiments have also won many gallantry awards including the Param Vir Chakra (the highest award for gallantry) and the Maha Vir Chakra. For his heroic actions during the 1962 Indo-China War, Major Dhan Singh Thapa of the 1/8th Gurkha Rifles won the Param Vir Chakra. Captain Gurbachan Singh Salaria of the 1st Gurkha Rifles also won the Param Vir Chakra posthumously for gallantry in the Congo in 1961. Acting Captain Manoj Kumar Pandey of the 1st Battalion, 11th Gurkha Rifles, won the Param Vir Chakra posthumously during the Kargil War. There was a time when you could find children playing games on the dusty paths of Gurkha villages using those same war medals as playthings.

Gurkha History
According to some accounts, the founder of the Gorkha family was a man named Kancha. He, along with his brother Mincha, were the great-grandsons of King Bhupati Rana Rava of Chittore in India. King Bhupati and one of his three sons, Fatte Singh Ranjit Rana, were killed during the Mohammedan invasion led by Emperor Alla-Uh-Din. Another son, Udayabam Rana Rava, founded Udaipur, while the third, Mamath Rana Rava, went to Ujjain. The latter had two sons, one of whom went to settle in the hills of what is now Nepal. Kancha and Mincha were his progeny.

The brothers were of Magar descent and their faith and customs were that of the Magars although, there was a substantial profusion of Rajput blood as well. While Mincha was chief of Nuwakot, Kaski, Tanahu and Lamjung, Kancha conquered the territories south of the Gandaki River, known as Magaraanth. These included Gulmi, Dhor and Bhirkut. Kancha was the first known ruler of central Nepal, an area in which Magars and Gurungs were the predominant tribes. At this time in history, the Gorkha kingdom extended from Trisul Ganga in the east to the Marsyangdi River in the west. In the mid 18th century, King Prithvi Narayan Shah undertook a 20-year odyssey that ultimately led to his rule over Nepal as a whole. His hill state of Gorkha gave its name to his followers, the Gorkhalis, while the name Gorkha itself was taken from its patron saint, Gorakh Nath.

In 1789, the Gurkhas pushed into, and annexed Sikkim, and then invaded Tibet. But in 1793, a massive Chinese and Tibetan army drove back the aggressive Gurkhas. Still, the Gurkhas’ lust for conquest was unquenchable. They invaded and occupied Kumaon and Garhwal in India, and dominated the Kangra Valley for a short period. With the conquest of Garhwal in 1794, the Gurkha Kingdom extended from Bhutan to Kashmir and from the mountains of Tibet to the border with the British provinces of Agra, Oudh and Bihar to the south.

The Anglo-Nepal War
In 1814, the Gurkhas entered into a war with the British forces of India. The mighty British pride was severely tested, as they lost battle after battle to an army that was ill armed and numerically inferior. As a matter of fact, in 1814, the entire Gurkha army numbered just 12,000. In 1814, the British laid siege to the Khalanga-Nalapani fort in Dehradun (now in Uttarakhand, India). The battle of Nalapani is one of the most important milestones in the history of warfare. The British force under General Gillespie consisted of 20 battalions of Infantry, Cavalry and Pioneer companies - an irregular force of about 6,668 - supported by 20 pieces of Artillery and two troops of Horsed Artillery. The battle lasted for over 30 days until finally they broke into the fort. They had paid a heavy price with the loss of 750 men and 31 officers had either been killed or wounded. They stood against a mere 600 Gurkhas.

The leader of the Gurkhas at Nalapani, Commander (General) Balbhadra Singh Thapa (Kunwar) escaped with 90 soldiers. Retreating further west to Jyathak, they were joined by 300 fresh Gurkhas. Here, they were attacked by a combined force of three detachments of British soldiers under General Martindell. But when the smoke had cleared, the British forces were found in disarray with 12 officers and almost 1,500 soldiers dead or wounded. On February 17, 1815, Lieutenant Fredrick Young, with 2,000 irregulars recruited from India’s Kumaon and Garhwal regions, were sent to intercept Nepalese Army reinforcements moving from Malaun to Jyathak. But, after coming face to face with 200 Gurkhas under Ranjore Singh Thapa, the soldiers panicked and ran away and Young was taken prisoner.

The fall of Malaun (later in Himachal Pradesh, India) in May 1815, brought the British campaign of 1814-1815 to an end. Another was fought in 1816 and General David Ochterlony finally managed to defeat Amar Singh Thapa’s army in Makwanpur, central Nepal. The war ended with the signing of the Sugauli Treaty on March 4, 1816, one of the conditions was that Britain should be allowed to recruit Gurkha soldiers into their army. So impressed were the awed British that they admitted, “…as compared to other orientals, Gurkhas are bold, enduring, faithful, frank, very independent and self reliant men….” Brian Hodgson, an authoritative figure of the times, recorded further “…. and they possess preeminently that masculine energy of character and love of enterprise which distinguish so advantageously all the military races of Nepal.” Thus began the international saga of the Gurkhas. However, another condition of the treaty was not as fortuitous; Nepal lost Sikkim, Garhwal, Kumaon and all the Terai west of the Gandaki River. However, the British ceded back the Terai in 1857 as a token of gratitude for the Nepalese army’s help in quelling the Indian Mutiny.

First Recruitments
The British were initially confused as to the identity of the real martial races of the mountain kingdom. What they did know was that in Nalapani, the 600 Gurkhas under Balbhadra Thapa were predominantly Magars, who made up the awesome Purana Gorakh Army. Lieutenant Young was assigned to recruit Gurkhas into the British army. As a prisoner, he had had the opportunity of making a close study of the fearless fighters. He had come to the conclusion that those in the western parts of the country, particularly Gurungs, Magars, Thakuris, Puns and Tamangs, were best suited to soldiering. Sometime later the British realized that there was equally fierce fighters in eastern Nepal. Among them, Rais, Limbus, Sunwars and Tamangs were exceptionally brave. Another martially inclined clan, the Chettris, was to be found throughout the country.

The first three battalions raised by the British consisted of Gurkhas from Amar Singh Thapa’s defeated forces. Lieutenant Young made the first recruitment near Dehradun on April 24, 1816. He was the first commander of the Sirmoor Battalion, later becoming the Sirmoor Rifles and later still, the 2nd King Edward VII’s Own Gurkha Rifles. The Sirmoor Rifles remained in service for the next 165 years and Young remained its commander for 28 of those. Soon, other battalions were formed, among them, two Nasiri battalions, later amalgamated to form the 1st Gurkha Rifles. Later, becoming the 1st King Edwards V’s Own Gurkha Rifles. Another battalion was raised at Almora as the Kumaon Battalion, later becoming the 3rd Gurkha Rifles, then after, the 3rd Queen Alexandra’s Own Gurkha Rifles. In the late 1800s, Lieutenant Colonel Eden Vannistart was commissioned to thoroughly investigation the different races of Nepal and to come up with concrete recommendations for recruitment. Till 1887, most of the 6th, 7th and 8th Gurkha Rifles consisted of recruits from areas around Darjeeling’s hills. Later on, however, more and more men were recruited from western and eastern Nepal.

Nepalese, British and Indian Gurkhas
It was not as if the Gurkhas were not well known as the bravest of the brave before the two World Wars. All those who fought against the Gurkhas have, in the end, come out of the fight with a greater respect for their adversaries’ prowess. Even after losing to the Sikhs in Kangra (in Himachal Pradesh of India) in 1806, the Sikh Maharaja, Ranjit Singh, began to recruit Gurkhas into his army in Lahore (origin of the word ‘Lahure’ that was to define Nepalese soldiers in foreign armies from then on). After the Anglo-Nepal War (1814-1816) the British too started recruiting Gurkhas in good numbers. By the time World War I started, there were 11 Gurkha regiments serving in the British Indian Army.

British Gurkhas
Following India’s independence in 1947, India, Nepal and Great Britain signed the Tripartite Agreement. Six regiments of the Gurkha Rifles joined the Indian Army. The British held on to the 2nd King Edward VII’s Own Gurkha Rifles, the 6th Queen Elizabeth’s Own Gurkha Rifles, the 7th Duke of Edinburgh’s Own Gurkha Rifles and the 10th Princess Mary’s Own Gurkha Rifles (all of which existed till 1994, thereafter they became the Royal Gurkha Rifles). Known as the Brigade of Gurkhas, they were initially stationed in Malaya. During the Malayan Emergency, Gurkhas fought as jungle soldiers. On December 7, 1962, the 2nd Gurkha Rifles, stationed in Wiltshire, UK, was deployed to Brunei at the outbreak of the Brunei Revolt. Later, the battalion was transferred to Hong Kong for security duties during the turmoil of the Chinese Cultural Revolution. The other battalions were stationed in the UK and Brunei. In 1971, the 7th Duke of Edinburgh’s Own Gurkha Rifles, stationed at Church Crookham, Hampshire, became the first Gurkhas to mount the Queen’s Guard. In 1974, the 10th Gurkha Rifles was sent to defend the British sovereign base area of Dhekelia, when Turkey invaded Cyprus. In 1994, the Royal Gurkha Rifles regiment consisted of three battalions. However, in 1996, the 3rd Battalion was amalgamated with the 2nd as part of a run down of British forces in Hong Kong. Of the two battalions, one is based at Shorncliffe in Kent while the other is based at the British garrison in Brunei. In December 1999, the Gurkha Training Wing in North Yorkshire became Gurkha Company, 3rd Battalion, Infantry Training Centre (ITC).

Recruitment is based on a certain stringent criteria. Firstly, hill selections are held at various locations in Nepal. Potential recruits must be between 17 and 22 years of age, height must be at least 5ft 2ins (1.57m), weight at least 50kgs (110pds), health must be in good stead and some educational background is required. The second stage is conducted at the Pokhara Selection Centre and lasts for three weeks. Candidates must pass the following tests: English grammar, mathematics, fitness, initiative and then the final interview. At this stage candidates for the Gurkha Contingent Singapore Police Force are also selected. The third stage is a nine-month course at GTW Infantry Training Centre in North Yorkshire. It consists of basic training, language training, military skills and learning about western culture and customs. The final stage is marked by the passing out parade of the successful recruits.

Indian Gurkhas
The 1st King George V’s Own Gurkha Rifles, the 3rd Queen Alexandra’s Own Gurkha Rifles, the 4th Prince of Wales Own Gurkha Rifles, along with the 5th, 8th and 9th Gurkha Rifles were transferred to India’s Army. During the transfer period, soldiers of the 7th and 10th Gurkha Rifles, recruited from eastern Nepal, decided not to join the British Army. So as to retain a contingent from this area of Nepal, the Indian Army decided to re-raise the 11th Gurkha Rifles in 1948. The Gurkhas have fought in every major Indian campaign. The 8th Gurkha Rifles is one of the most celebrated regiments of the Indian Army, having received numerous citations for bravery, and even producing one of the two field marshals, Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw.

Till some time ago, the 11th Gurkha Rifles had only Rai and Limbu soldiers, whereas, the 9th Gurkha Rifles consisted of Chettris and Bahuns. The other regiments had only Magars and Gurungs. Now the Indian army has no caste bars as far as recruitment is concerned. The only requirements are: the person be aged between 17.5 and 21 years; that he have a height of at least 160cm; weight of 48kgs; chest should be 77cm which on inflation should be a further 0.05cm. Additionally, the potential recruit is to have passed at least SLC (for sons of ex-army men, a class eight pass is enough). According to Hon. Captain (Retd) Krishna Bahadur Kunwar, Supervisor of the Military Pension Branch at the Bharatiya Gorkha Sainik Niwas in Kathmandu, recruitment of Nepalese men into the Indian army has been on the wane since the last few years. India has only resumed recruitment this year after a two-year lull. According to Captain (Retd) Kunwar, figures for Nepali Gurkhas in the Indian Army is about 40,000 (27,000 according to the news website http://in.news.yahoo.com) while about 250,000 ex-Indian Gurkhas are on pension, which for retired captains could be up to IRs.15,000 per month.

Nepalese Gurkhas
In 1763, King Prithvi Narayan Shah raised the Sri Nath Battalion as the first battalion of the Gorkha army and the Shri Purano Gorakh Battalion was raised in the same year. Over the next 20 years his army grew to ten ‘gans’ (infantry battalions) and some independent companies called ‘gulmas’ (meant to defend and administer conquered territories). During the 1940’s the Nepalese army consisted of 15 infantry battalions and 25 independent companies. By 1952, it had 3 brigades, 30 battalions and 39 independent companies. Currently Nepal’s Army is said to be about 90,000 with six divisional headquarters in Dipayal, Surkhet, Pokhara, Suparitar of Makwanpur District, Kathmandu and Dhankuta.

The Shri Kali Bahadur Battalion, raised in 1831, consisted of only Gurungs while the Shri Purano Gorakh Batallion had only Magar soldiers. The Shri Bhairab Nath Gan (now called the Special Forces Battalion) had only Limbu soldiers. Till recently, the Kali Bahadur and the Gorakhnath Gans were assigned permanently as palace guards, with one always deployed at the palace. Another palace guard battalion was chosen by the king - usually the battalion winning the King’s Banner that year. Today, the Nepalese Army maintains a national character in terms of inclusion of all castes, ethnic communities, genders, regions and religions. As of July 2008, 18 of the top-level posts (Major General and above) included eight Chhetris, two Limbus, two Brahmins, two Gurungs, two Thakuris, one Rana, and one Newar.

The Nepalese Army’s combat operations to date have been the British–Nepal War in 1814-1816; the wars with Tibet in 1788, 1792 and 1855; the Khampa campaign in 1976, and the recently concluded campaign against Maoist insurgency. In the early 1970’s, some 9,000 “Khampas” (Tibetans who were resisting Chinese authority) established high altitude camps in Nepal as launch pads for operations into Tibet. By 1973, they were using Mustang in remote western Nepal as a firm base. Diplomacy failing, Nepal sent a brigade sized army taskforce from Pokhara on June 15, 1974. The Khampa’s surrendered on July 31, 1974. The Nepalese Army participated in World War I with nine battalions. Additionally, sending also almost 200,000 troops to fight as part of the British Indian Army. In 1917, the Mahindra Dal Battalion and the 1st Rifle Battalion were involved in the Waziristan War when the area was a New World Frontier of British India. Nepalese troops under Gen Baber Shumshere also went to the aid of British troops in 1919, during the Afghanistan War. Fifteen Nepalese battalions fought in World War II, led by the late Commander-in-Chief Kiran Shumshere Rana and ex-Commander-in-Chief and Field Marshall Nir Shumshere Rana. When Japan entered the war in December 1940, four Nepalese battalions were deployed against them. The Nepalese fought with great ferocity, particularly on the Burma front and they helped force the eventual Japanese retreat from the Indian subcontinent. After the British left India in 1947, religious violence between Hindus and Muslims erupted and India’s Prime Minister Jawahar Lal Nehru requested Nepal’s assistance to quell the situation. Twenty battalions under Maj Gen Sharada SJB Rana were deployed in many parts of India where they contributed greatly in stabilizing the situation.

Singapore, Brunei, Malaya, Bahrain
On April 9, 1949, selected ex-British Army Gurkhas were recruited by Singapore’s government to form the Gurkha Contingent (GC) of the Singapore Police Force. In its role as a specialist police force, the Gurkha Contingent is deployed as a reaction force in times of crisis. In the Sultanate of Brunei, the 2,000 strong Gurkha Reserve Unit made up of British Army veterans make up a special police force of the small sultanate. After the independence of Malaya from the United Kingdom in August 1957, many Gurkhas joined the Malayan armed forces. In Bahrain, the United States navy employs Gurkha guards as sentries at its bases there as well as Gurkhas sometimes providing security for U.S. Consulates and ships abroad.

Action Stations
The Gurkhas have seen action in the jungles of Burma, Borneo and Malaysia, the deserts of North Africa and the mountains of Afghanistan, Baluchistan and the New Frontier. They have served around the Mediterranean and the Pacific. Besides fighting in the battlefields of Europe, the Gurkhas have seen action in Palestine, Jerusalem, Hong Kong, Singapore, Persia, Iraq, India, Tunis and the Falklands. As an integral part of the United Nations Peace Keeping Force (UNPKF) Gurkhas have been deployed to some of the deadliest, newer battlegrounds where civil, ethnic, political and religious strife has torn countries asunder and taken countless lives. Almost half of Nepal’s army have UNPKF experience and served as part of peacekeeping forces in places like Congo, Liberia, Haiti, Burundi and Sudan besides other equally dangerous places savaged by horrific conflict.

Gurkhas have also been in the limelight in Iraq and Afghanistan. According to Afghan sources, “…in Shindand Airport (in western Afghanistan) they are under the direct command of US ‘Special Forces’. In Kandahar, they ‘work’ with Canadian forces…in Ghazni they are with Polish forces, in Kabul and other regions they are linked with American private security companies.” During Prince Harry’s 77 days in Afghanistan, he was attached to the 1st Royal Gurkha Rifles battle group as a Forward Air Controller. One also recalls seeing on the screen, the familiar sight of Gurkhas patrolling the war torn streets of Iraq. However, it was the Falklands war in 1985 that really brought to mind Gurkha legends of yore, and created a new one in the process. At the end of it, here is what Brigadier David Morgan had to say about it, “It must never be forgotten that the much feared fighters from Nepal played a critical and decisive part in the final downfall of the Argentineans. It was the Gurkha’s reputation that helped win the war in the Falklands.” Also stating, “Their reputation has always run before them – but the Gurkhas have always delivered. They have always shown that they have the mettle, the skills and all the courage to fight to the last.” Could one fault the Argentineans for surrendering so quickly, at the mere knowledge that the fearsome Gurkhas were coming? One of them later tried to justify the surrender by saying, “We didn’t want our heads to be chopped off.”

The KhukuriAnd when there is talk of chopping heads, can mention of the khukri be far behind? This weapon of the Gurkhas has earned its own place in the legends of warfare and yes, it has indeed done a lot of chopping. There is a story in which Gurkha soldiers were ordered to bring back severed heads of the enemy during the World War I. One stocky chap came back from the jungle and threw a dozen or so ears to the ground in front of the officer. “The heads were too heavy to carry,” was his explanation. Similarly, there is another story of a Gurkha with a khukri coming face to face with a Japanese officer carrying a samurai sword. The Japanese manages to wound the Gurkha, even slicing off his arm. Whereupon the Gurkha tells his foe, “You may have wounded me, but let’s see you nod your head.”

This does sound a bit far fetched but such are the legends built around Gurkhas and their khukris. Functioning as a cross between a knife and an axe, the khukri is designed for chopping and stabbing purposes in war. It can also be used in daily tasks like cutting meat, vegetables and even trees. The blade is deflected at an angle of 20° or more and although the size varies, the blade usually measures about 3 to 10 cm wide and 30 to 38 cm long. Its thick spine and sharp cutting edge greatly increases its effectiveness. Khukuris are balanced and rest in a vertical position when supported on a fulcrum. The handles are made from hardwood or water buffalo horn but, whatever the handles is made of, the khukri has terrified all enemies since ages past.

The Future
In the subsequent tide of a turbulent world history that has included two World Wars, and numerous others, the Gurkhas have become true legends in the annals of warfare. There was a time when an analogy was often made between the Switzerland of the middles ages and Nepal. Then, the Swiss were poor but made fine soldiers and so, were in great demand as mercenaries throughout Europe. Similar has been, and is, with the Gurkhas. The world, and especially Great Britain has reasons enough to be grateful to the Gurkhas for their sacrifices in ensuring a freer world. However, who can stop the relentless changes that come with time? The handover of Hong Kong to China resulted in drastic reductions of the number of Gurkhas in the British forces. For many Englishmen who had served so proudly with Gurkha regiments, it was a trying time to say the least. For the Gurkhas too, it was a distressing turn of events because while initially, economic reasons preceded everything else in the desire to be a British Gurkha, becoming one has now become more of a proud tradition among many families of the Nepal hills.

Saying that the Gurkhas have had their day as an integral part of Britain’s army would be a premature statement. Nevertheless, today, only a handful is recruited every year at the one recruiting camp in Pokhara (the Dharan camp was closed a long while ago) and the numbers continue to dwindle. In the meantime, a protracted but successful legal battle for equal pensions and rights as their British counterparts has been cause for some succor. However, with the recent policy changes permitting many ex-British Gurkhas to live in Britain, there are concerns here at the loss of remittance hitherto received in Nepal. The British Gurkhas have been the cause for many positive changes in the villages of Nepal. The rapid development of cities like Dharan and Pokhara, owe much to the Gurkhas serving on foreign shores.

There is reason now to believe that a similar situation could arise regarding recruitment into the Indian army. The irony is that the bravery and the prowess of the Gurkhas can only be demonstrated in times of war. However, as Hon. Captain (Retd) Kunwar says, “There have been no major wars since 1971.” He himself served in the 4/9th Gurkha Rifles in India and he is obviously referring to the three Indo-Pak wars of 1947, ‘65 and ‘71 as well as the Indo-China War of 1962. As far as things like career progressions are concerned, according to Captain Kunwar, “I believe that the highest ranking Indian Gurkha has been Brigadier Giri Prasad Pun. However, there are many senior Gurkha officers today in the Indian army.” In the British Gurkhas too, one will find quite a few senior ranking Gurkha officers. In December 1995, Lieutenant-Colonel Bijay Kumar Rawat became the Commanding Officer of the 1st Battalion - the first Nepalese to do so in the Royal Gurkha Rifles. He oversaw the departure of the battalion from Hong Kong before its transfer to Chinese control in 1996.

Taking our cue from all that’s happening around the world, including the ways of modern warfare, it would be justifiable to believe that perhaps one might not come across many new legends of the fearless Gurkhas in the days to come. Perhaps, one will have to now take recourse to the stories recounted in the hundreds of laudatory books. Perhaps one will have to remain content knowing that the Gurkhas will forever be regarded as the ‘Bravest of the Brave’ and be proud that their motto ‘Better to Die than be a Coward’ has been proven true countless times, in many wars. Finally, the following high praise by one who served with the Gurkhas during World War I, really says it all:

“As I write these last words, my thoughts return to you who were my comrades, the stubborn and indomitable peasants of Nepal. Once more I hear the laughter with which you greeted every hardship. Once more I see you in your bivouacs or about your fires, on forced march or in the trenches, now shivering with wet and cold, now scorched by a pitiless and burning sun. Uncomplaining you endure hunger and thirst and wounds; and at the last your unwavering lines disappear into the smoke and wrath of battle. Bravest of the brave, most generous of the generous, never had a country more faithful friends than you." Professor Sir Ralph Turner, MC 3rd Queen Alexandra’s Own Gurkha Rifles

Sources: The Gurkhas (W.Brook Northey and C.J.Morris)The Gurkhas, The Inside Story of the World’s Most Feared Soldiers (John Parker)The Royal Nepal Army: Meeting the Maoist Challenge (Ashok K Mehta)