We woke up at the crack of mid-morning and decided to get some breakfast. As we hit the main street in Thamel, we instantly felt that something was amiss. The hundreds of shops usually brimming over with everything any traveler could ever need and then some, were all closed up tighter than a frog’s ass. The only restaurant open happened to be right next to our hotel, so we went in to get some food. Jared asked the waiter, "Is it a holiday or something today?" The waiter replied, in broken English, "No, Royal family died." We were confused by the response. Lisa quickly said to Jared and I, "Oh, I think someone died last week, I saw it on TV, maybe they are burning him today." It made sense. After our food, we walked down the street looking for an open Internet café to upload the site. But the streets were dead and eerily silent, save for some small groups of locals with long faces talking quietly amongst themselves. Rounding a corner, we bumped into an older German man and asked him if he knew what was going on. "You haven’t heard?" he said. "No," I said. "The Crown Prince shot and killed the King, Queen, prince, princess, and eight others last night with a semi-automatic weapon, then shot himself."
We were shocked. Wanting to do some exploring of our own, we headed back to the hotel to gather our cameras, water, and other supplies. Inside the hotel lobby, the BBC news was broadcasting the massacre of the Royal family as its top news story. The details were sketchy but the deaths of the royalty were confirmed. We decided to check out the streets of the city, to gauge firsthand the public’s reaction.
Our first decision was to go to the scene of the murder, the Royal Palace. We saw our first police and military at the Kantipath chowk right outside Thamel. They were shutting down the road on which the big boys of Parliament were meeting to figure out what the hell to do now that the entire Royal family had holes in them. "Oookay, let’s try elsewhere." Lisa suggested Durbar Square, in her infinite wisdom. Walking through town, we felt the somber and confused mood of the people. There was an air of shock, bewilderment, and grief sitting heavily on the city. In the square locals sat staring at the old Palace, trying to catch a glimpse of something belonging to Royalty. We caught a glimpse of a something box-shaped, perhaps a jeweled coffin, sitting in the entranceway to the Palace. But not much was going on in the Square so we decided to head on down New Road, which just the day before was bustling with life and commerce. Eventually, we hit Durbar Marg and here saw our first scenes of mass gathering and unrest.
From the catwalk over the street we could see a mass of shouting, angry males carrying posters of the King and Queen, Nepali flags, and chanting "Joop, lelah, nisharakaripopilu!!!!!" Or something like that, we couldn’t understand them. After the mob passed under us, we made our way back to the hotel to check the latest Muppet Headline News Flashes with anchorbird Sam the Eagle. The manager at the hotel told us that there was to be a funeral procession for the Royal family that afternoon at 4 p.m., which would pass right through Thamel en route to the burning ghats at Pashupatinath. We were amazed! "They’re already cremating the bodies?" I asked in disbelief. I wondered about autopsies, the angles of entry wounds, evidence, you know, like the stuff they do on "Quincy." But, it is important in Hinduism to cremate a body as soon as possible post mortem, ideally within 24 hours. It was already 3.30, so we hurriedly got our stuff together and followed the crowds.
We found a spot on a street lined with Nepalis, where the procession would pass right in front of us. For the next three hours, we waited and watched, thinking that surely every Nepali in Kathmandu was walking past us looking for a good seat. At times, mobs of head-shaven young males careened down the street shouting "Long live the King, The Name of God is Truth" and waving national flags. We found out from some English speaking Nepalis that these youth were demanding a full investigation of the murders, as Nepali Royalty has heretofore been considered completely above the law. There was a tension in the air, not necessarily of anger, but more of anticipation, anxiety, sadness, and confusion. Everything was happening way too fast, but it was so surreal that it felt like it wasn’t happening at all, somehow. Suddenly the harumph harumph murmur of the crowd stopped short as a few military motorcyclists and well-decorated army officers in full formal attire followed police caravans clearing the streets in preparation for the procession. The anticipation was unbearable and an uneasy silence blanketed the onlookers.
Slowly the procession moved forward, first with soldiers in formation, then the huge Royal marching band bellowing a sad and somber march from their worn tubes of brass. Then, bedecked horses and officers trotted in unison, followed by endless lines of soldiers upon soldiers fully armed and in full formal attire. The crowd held its breath in one huge gasp as the four Royal flower and linen lumps, carried on the shoulders of the barefoot Brahmins (priest caste), passed quickly by. As the King’s stretcher passed in front of us, we were presented with our first and last look at his Highness King Birendra Bitram Shah. His face was tightly wrapped in the traditional thin, red, silk sheet and sprinkled with red powder in preparation for cremation. As the bodies passed by, other-worldly wails of grief-stricken women floated down from windows on high, together with marigolds and rupees in homage to the dead. It was an unbelievable feeling to be so up close and personal to this event: the tragedy of a nation staring you in the face. Now it all felt too real.Next, the Queen came by but she was hidden in the jeweled case we had caught a glimpse of earlier in the Square. We couldn’t see her face, and assumed she had suffered head wounds in the shooting. The prince and princess came next, but it was especially sobering to see the princess because her still head was tilted towards us, not two meters away, with a melancholy look frozen on her young face. I tried to take a picture of her, but just didn’t feel right about it and put down the camera. After the late Royal family, another band and lines and lines of soldiers and police filed past. Finally, an unremitting stream of Nepalis followed the procession chanting and shouting in love and longing for their deceased Royal family. That was one of the most surreal and moving experiences we had ever witnessed. To add the bizarre-ness of the evening, we found ourselves immediately asking, "Well, what should we get for food, garden burgers or chowmein?" Everyone has to eat, I guess.
After dinner we went back to the hotel and watched the cremations live on Nepali TV. How strange it was to watch a Royal funeral live on TV, showing vividly the whole process of lighting and burning the bodies. The Hindu religion is quite open about the cycle of life and death, and as uncomfortable as we thought it may be, the entire process felt natural and human. That’s just about enough for one day. Before bed, our hotel manager said that now was a very dangerous time for Nepal, with the King and Queen dead, what happens next no one can say. We all had a feeling that it wasn’t going to be as tame as today, that after the veil of grief and shock lifted, the people’s anger and frustration may take over.Chapter June 3 "If at First you Don’t Succeed, Punch your Friends in the Face" or "Tom Selleck or Burt Reynolds?"
We woke Sunday morning hungry and excited. What was going to happen today? We had no idea, but we wanted to see whatever it would be. The Crown Prince, who was supposedly the one to have massacred his family, was declared the new king and at the same time, brain-dead. We walked around the city a bit, but nuthin’ was going down. Everything was closed and the only people to be seen were small groups gathering in corners. We decided to lock ourselves in our rooms, work on the site, and be ready to upload by that evening. Tension and uneasiness built in the air. We found ourselves with some tension of our own, small in comparison to Nepal’s, as our free web server (FortuneCity) was inaccessible making it impossible for us to upload. You get what you pay for, or don’t pay for. This has happened multiple times now, and it pisses us off so much that I’m going to stop writing about it!
Chapter June 4 "You all Gotta Duck…When the Shit Hits the Fan" or " Third King’s a Charm"
We awoke to the news that the 24 -hour old King, Dipendra, had died earlier that morning and that the next in line for the throne was the old King Birendra’s youngest brother, Gayendra. We started to think it a bit suspicious that the entire Royal family, even the other brother in line for the throne before Gayendra, come to think of it, ANYONE who could have inherited the throne, was killed. Holy Dead Princes, Batman, something’s not right!
The hotel manager advised us to stay inside saying, "Today there is trouble." This made us curious to see how exactly this "trouble" was going to unfold. We took the same route as we had two days earlier, passing by the Royal Palace, Durbar Square, and New Road. The military and police had barricaded the road to the Royal Palace and Parliament’s meeting place, so we made way to Durbar Square. Here, crowds had gathered to watch the military surround the old Palace. It seemed that preparations were underway for something BIG, man. We later found out that these preparations were for the coronation of the new King, Gayendra, who looks a lot like a dry piece of plastic. We then headed down New Road to Ratna Park. Here we saw mass gatherings of highly agitated Nepalis teeming in the streets surrounding the park. Tensions rose to feverous heights, as rocks and bottles began sailing through the air. Inside the park, the military mobilized its forces and put on a show of force. To add to the energy and confusion, a huge canon started to fire blanks in the air, and did so every 15 seconds or so for 5 minutes. We found out later that this was the salute for the new King. Then from a distance, we heard shots, saw smoking canisters of tear gas in the air, and crowds of dispersing agitators running towards us and away from the gas. The rioting had begun and in discordance with all guidebooks and State Department warnings, we were in the thick of it-- YIKES!
With hearts racing, eyes burning, and throats constricting, we dashed up the road with the throngs of retreating tear gas dodgers and advancing brick throwers. We found ourselves in a hot spot, where angry young males were smashing road barricades and throwing anything they could get their hands on at the well armed riot police in a an old fashioned stand-off. Tear gas canisters flew to and fro and it was at this point that we all looked at each other though burning, watery eyes, and said "Let’s get outta here!" From here we went back into Thamel, where "your security is our motto" and ran into another intense rioting zone. A whole pack of young Nepali males charged at the police and military with bricks and bottles, stampeding backwards when the tear gas retaliated. Women poured buckets of water onto the crowd from the rooftops lining the narrow streets to help cut the tear gas. This scene we stumbled upon in tourist Thamel felt more juvenile and testosterone-induced than the previous ones, like a bunch of young guys causing trouble just ‘cuz they could. We decided it was best to leave area and head back to the hotel.Half an hour after returning, the hotel manager said, "Get what you need now, because martial law has just been declared. Curfew is set for 4 p.m." Meaning that anyone found on the streets could legally be shot on sight, no questions asked. We ran out quickly and got ourselves the essentials: beer, whiskey, and Coca-Cola, and hankered down for the evening. Come curfew time a strange and unsettling calm fell over the city, the clouds parted and the sun shone its face, turning into a beautiful afternoon compared to the craziness and chaos of the morning. We sat on the rooftop drinking our 4, 5, and 6 o’clocktails and watching the sun set over a temporarily restrained Kathmandu. All told, four people died and countless injured this day. The deceased King Dipendra (alleged Crown Prince killer) was privately cremated that evening at Pashupatinath, with a 21-gun salute breaking the silence and billows of black smoke entering the night sky. This was a day we wouldn’t soon forget, but decided we’d seen enough. We would leave the next morning.
Chapter June 5 "Not so early the next morning" or "Jimmy Crack Corn and I Don’t Care"
We awoke at 10 a.m. or so, packed up and by 11.45 were ready to hit the road. At 11.46 we found out from our trusty friend and informant, the hotel manager whose name we knew best not to ask, that martial law was once again in effect and curfew had been set for 12 p.m. We weren’t going anywhere today. This was starting to get annoying. Nothing was open, and even if it were, we couldn’t get to it. Aah, the joys of travel. At least we’ve got nothing but time time time.
