Nepal's Palace Massacre: Skeletons Still in the Closet?

By Ishaan Tharoor for Time

It's a story worthy of Shakespearean tragedy, populated by characters plucked from a farce. There is the beloved monarch, magnanimous and complacent. There is the moody crown prince. There is the prince's cousin — a "playboy" with a belly and a ponytail — who, after years of silence, professes alone to know the truth of his royal family's demise. And in the background are the Maoists, once guerrillas, now rulers, keen to spin this whole set piece to their political advantage.

Nepal's palace massacre in 2001 — when the Crown Prince Dipendra allegedly gunned down 10 members of his own family, including his father, King Birendra Shah, before shooting himself — has, for the most part, receded into memory in this impoverished Himalayan nation. Since then, a Maoist rebellion found its way into power, transformed the kingdom into a republican democracy and abolished the institution of the monarchy altogether last year. Yet the current government, headed by the former rebels, still indulges in periodic bouts of royal-bashing, often to paper over the increasingly apparent shortcomings of their own rule. As fuel lines in Kathmandu stretch more than two kilometers and power cuts ravage the country, the Maoists announced last month their intention to form a commission to revisit the massacre eight years after it happened, tightening the screw on the lingering survivors of the 250-year-old monarchy.

That decision has put some of the chief remaining royals on the defensive. Though investigations in the immediate aftermath of the attack closed the case, pinning the blame on an emotional Prince Dipendra, most Nepalis never quite accepted the accession of Birendra's businessman brother, Gyanendra, to the throne, and balked at his son Paras becoming crown prince. Paras is known chiefly for his penchant for fast cars and liquor, often in combination. But last week he titillated the nation by leaking to a tabloid in Singapore — where he now lives in a luxury home — alleged proof of how his cousin Dipendra had secretly plotted the murder for years, in what could shape up to be a bid to distance himself from the government's renewed scrutiny of the incident and any possible arrest, now that he is no longer royalty.

The established narrative of the tragedy suggests Dipendra was in a drunken fury, irate that his father and family continued to disapprove of his relationship with a woman from a rival clan of nobles. It was supposedly a crime of passion and intoxication — but Paras told Singapore's New Paper: "There was no smell of alcohol on [Dipendra]." According to Paras, the crown prince had intended to take down his popular father ever since Birendra relinquished absolute power after pro-democracy protests in 1990. The loss of that political mandate was made worse for Dipendra after his father scuttled an arms deal with a German rifle maker that could have yielded the prince a windfall of over $1 million. "That was the real trigger," claimed Paras, though former aides to the monarchy have denied such a transaction was ever in the works.

In yet another new twist, Paras also told the New Paper he may return to Nepal and participate in electoral politics, heading up a party of "young professionals and bankers" — but it seems unlikely the deeply unpopular 37-year-old — an embodiment, for many, of royal excess — would gain much from such a venture. "That's what everyone in Nepal is laughing about," says Kunda Dixit, editor of the Nepali Times, a Kathmandu-based weekly. "It's remarkable how quickly people here have otherwise forgotten the monarchy," he says.

The Maoists, though, who waged a decade-long war against the royal army, have not forgotten so easily. A recent trip to India by Gyanendra, who lives quietly in a private residence in the capital, prompted howls of outrage from members of government, wary of his dealings with Nepal's influential southern neighbor. The Maoists, observers say, need to raise the specter of royalist nefariousness to boost their own flagging support. "They need to create a sense of threat, of a larger enemy, to distract the people from their failings," says Dixit.

Those failings include the nine-month-old government's inability to provide much-needed development, from infrastructure to energy. This year, Kathmandu has suffered routine 17-hour power cuts, which has led to a drying up of foreign investment. Enduring fuel shortages have sent commodities' prices soaring and the financial downturn has led to thousands of overseas workers — whose remittances comprise some 16% of the national GDP —returning home, unemployed. National security has also deteriorated, partially as a consequence of the government's failure to integrate the roughly 30,000-strong Maoist rebel army, still quartered in remote camps throughout the country, with the formerly royalist state forces. Some frustrated Maoist commanders have even called for the overthrow of their own democratic government.

In the face of this, few in Kathmandu expect much from the inquiry into the royal family's murder. Many other questions remain unanswered from Nepal's decade-long civil war. Over 13,000 died, many of whom were civilians, both at the hands of rebel and government soldiers. But neither the ruling Maoists nor elements of the old royalist regime have heeded calls to investigate charges of war crimes. "Not a single case has been prosecuted so far," says Manjushree Thapa, author of Forget Kathmandu, an award-winning history of the conflict. "As ever," she says, "we Nepalis are not used to finding out the truth."

S’porean helped this prince, but...Can she help his kingdom?

(This is the final part of series of report in The New Paper on Nepal’s former crown prince, in which he talks about his life in S’pore and meet the Singaporean woman who helped him settle in.)

A SINGLE call made by this Singapore woman can apparently move mountains in Nepal.

A king even gave up his throne after MsAngella Cheng made a strategic call.

This happened in 2006, when thousands of students took to the streets of the capital Kathmandu in demonstrations against the monarchy soon after the Maoist rebels had come into power.

Ms Cheng’s friends in Nepal had asked her for help.

So she got on the phone with former long-time prime ministerG P Koirala, who was leading the demonstrations.

“I asked him to seek an audience with then-King Gyanendra and work out a solution,” she told The New Paper.

Mr Koirala went to the palace and negotiations began in earnest.

The final outcome?

The king agreed to abdicate in favour of his grandson, Hridayendra, who was then an infant, easing the tense atmosphere.

According to Ms Cheng, Mr Koirala remarked to her then that she deserved the Nobel Peace Prize for her peacemaker role.

Call opens prison doors

Last November, when two top politicians – husbands of her close friends – were arrested, she interceded on their behalf and went to visit them when they were behind bars. “It was no easy matter – the guards refused to let me through.

“So I made calls to the Chief of Police in one instance and a Major-General in the other, and the visits were allowed.

“Till today, their wives know that I am a friend in need, and whenever they know I am in Nepal, they will whip up a feast for me,” she said.

So how did a Singapore woman acquire so much influence there, with many friendships, including some in high places?

It all began more than 10 years ago, when she was introduced to the Nepali Royal Family.

“I helped (the late) Princess Shanti, the elder sister of King Birendra, to raise funds for the country’s orphans. She was Nepal’s Patron of Orphanages. I helped raise cash which I sent over, along with used clothes, books and computers.”

Princess Shanti was among those slain in the royal massacre of 2001 when Crown prince Dipendra went berserk and opened fire on members of the Royal Family at a palace party, killing nine of them before shooting himself.

Ms Cheng’s royal connections remain strong now.

When Prince Paras decided to stay in Singapore after the abolition of the monarchy, she helped him settle down, including finding him accommodation.

Can she be a kingmaker?

Ms Cheng has visited Nepal to set up libraries, teach the children English and even cooked for them, breaking her nails, she said with a hearty laugh.

She also purchased medical equipment for Nepal’s public hospitals and co-ordinated sponsorship attachments for doctors and nurses to be trained in Singapore to upgrade their skills so that they can improve public health care back home.

In time, she extended help to Mr Koirala to raise funds to bring in urgently-needed medical experts.

Ms Cheng, 45, plans to visit Nepal during Deepavali in October and seek an audience with prime minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal (alias Prachanda), during which she will offer him a plan which she thinks will unite the country.

Nepal is currently rocked by strife and dissent, split as it is by rifts between pro-monarchist and pro-republic factions.

“I will propose that we reinstate the monarchy, with the grandson of King Gyanendra, 6-year-old Hridayendra Bir Bikram Shah Dev, as king. He will not have executive power but will be more of a figurehead, and assigned the role of doing social work.”

Why the young man and not his father, Prince Paras?

Ms Cheng believes that Prince Paras would not be a good choice as he is not popular with the people, having, as he himself has admitted, made too many mistakes to inherit the royal mantle.

Restoring paradise

And the Singaporean believes her suggestion will bear fruit as she has two bargaining chips to persuade the Prachanda government to accept the return of the monarchy.

One, the country is in dire need of infrastructural development.

An architect by training and fluent in Nepali and Mandarin, she is accompanying the Prachanda government to China to have discussions with the Chinese government on starting a number of major infrastructural projects in Nepal.

Two, through some close contacts in the Japanese government, Ms Cheng is also trying to persuade Japan to undertake some similar infrastructional projects in Nepal.

Ms Cheng comes across as a woman determined to help set things right in a country famous for its natural beauty.

Nepal is home to Everest, the world's highest peak and Lumbini, the birth place of Buddha.

Ms Cheng enjoys doing social and community work so much that she quit a cushy job with a property developer to start a social enterprise, ChaCha Cottage Industry.

Her social mission and objective is to help unskilled single mothers (divorced and widowed) with home-based work, including making decorative scented candles, beauty soaps and beauty products and costume jewellery.

She hopes to empower these women to rebuild their lives and re-establish their self-esteem.

Profits from sales of these products are used to help families of these mothers pay for school uniforms, medical and miscellaneous expenses. Products made by ChaCha Cottage Industry are sold at Raffles Hotel Shop.

Said Ms Cheng: “I was once a single mum, and my journey as a single mum to a life of blessings, and wanting to move on from success to significance, spurred me to start this cottage industry.”

Now, Nepal is facing perhaps its most difficult time. Revenue from tourism, its main income earner, is falling as visitors are staying away because of the global recession.

The country is also plagued by shortages of all sorts and daily blackouts.

Ms Cheng feels she has a new peace mission to play and intends to return to Nepal soon.

Isn’t she afraid for her safety, given that the populace in Nepal is restive, crime is rampant and kidnappings take place almost every day?

“No, I know most of the politicians, including Prime Minister Prachanda, the Maoist rebel leader turned politician, and members of the royal family since 1981.

“ I have played many crucial roles in the country for the last 28 years, and the time has come for me to do my bit for the country again.”

Exclusive: Nepal's ex-crown prince Paras tells how royal massacre took place

‘The smell of burnt blood was horrible’

Killer prince charged into room dressed in army camouflage and armed with four guns

IT WAS the night that sounded the death knell for the monarchy of Nepal in more ways than one.

A fusillade of bullets wiped out 10 members of the royal family, including Birendra, the popular king.

The killing was brutal. A shot to the head ended the king’s life as he lay bleeding from shots fired earlier.The finger on the trigger was that of his embittered 30-year-old son, Dipendra.

He had fired three bursts, twice from an automatic pistol. He then let fly with an M16 rifle.

The royal massacre happened on 1 Jun 2001. In two months’ time, the royal survivors will once again mark the anniversary of the tragedy.

Eight years after that horrific bloodbath, Nepal’s last crown prince, Paras Bikram Shah, nephew of Birendra, is breaking his silence.

He wants to clear ugly, persistent rumours of his involvement in the incident, though a commission has cleared him of any complicity.

Reacting to recent reports that the current Nepali government might reopen the investigation into the massacre, Prince Paras, who is now largely based in Singapore, decided to speak to senior Singapore media men.

“The Nepali people need to know the truth,” he said.

Prince Paras, 37, spoke exclusively to The New Paper over two days in the past fortnight, first at the Raffles Town Club and then at his River Valley condominium unit.

He still shivers as he recalls that night of terror.

“It was utter pandemonium. The mortally wounded were groaning, blood was splattered on the walls and floor.

The survivors, including my wife, whimpered as they crouched, some hiding behind a sofa, as bullets ricocheted everywhere.”

As he spoke, Prince Paras’ face glistened with sweat. His orange juice stayed untouched throughout the three hour-long interview.

In his desire to get the story out, the pack-a-day smoker didn’t even pause to light a cigarette.

He said: “For four years after that massacre, I was not able to sleep. Till today, the nightmare keeps coming back to haunt me.”

After the turmoil of the dreadful incident, Prince Paras and a host of other witnesses told a commission of inquiry what they saw.

Over the years, the prince has had time to think and re-think about the events of that fateful night.

Only now are some of the pieces falling clearly into place, in his mind at least, he said.

Yet nothing seemed amiss that night as family members and relatives gathered for a party in the billiards room in Dipendra’s residence on the palace grounds. This was the custom on Friday nights.

There was no sense that their life of wealth and ease was about to change, that their world was about to come tumbling down.

At 8pm, there was the first hint of trouble, Prince Paras recalled.

“I got there a bit late, but Dipendra was staggering around in the room, as if he were drunk, as he usually was. But on this occasion, he did not reek of alcohol. An hour or so later, just as the king was about to enter the room, Dipendra collapsed.

“Looking back, I now realise he was pretending. His brother, Nirajan, and I carried him to his bedroom upstairs.

“We placed him on the bed and tried to remove the Glock pistol from the holster on his left hip so that he would be more comfortable. But he suddenly woke up and told us to leave it alone.

“Then, I noticed that his Colt M16 rifle was on the dressing table, outside the cupboard where it was usually kept. I did not make too much of it as he kept six or seven guns in his room. I left the room and rejoined the party.”

The king was mingling with the older generation.

Prince Paras was with the younger relatives in an alcove where they could smoke, partly out of sight of the elders.They put out their cigarettes when the king approached the bar near the alcove.

Then, it turned violent.

“Suddenly, Dipendra charged into the room. He had changed into army camouflage. The M16 was slung on his shoulders, together with a shotgun.

“His Glock pistol hung at his hip. He fired one burst into the ceiling with his Heckler & Koch MP5 sub-machine gun, then a burst at his father. His Majesty was hit by three bullets.

“Dipendra then moved out of the room, presumably to protect the entrance.

“ I watched in great shock. I was not able to move for at least 30 seconds. Then I pulled myself together. The king’s younger sister was cradling him, his head in her lap.”

Prince Paras paused as he reflected on the sequence of events. He recalled Prince Niranjan drawing his own pistol and laying it next to the king. He was the only other person in the room who was armed.

Runs after brother

Then Prince Niranjan ran after his brother, who was outside. Was Prince Niranjan offering the king his pistol to protect himself? Or did he want to confront his brother without further bloodshed?

Prince Paras continued: “Two to three minutes later, shots rang out. Niranjan was later found with a shot in the back and two in the head. I suspect he was shot when he refused to support Dipendra in his bid to seize power.”

The violence continued. Dipendra walked back in, this time wielding the M16, said Prince Paras.

“He walked up to his father and shot him in the head at point-blank range. There was no expression on his face as he kept his finger on the trigger.”

After that, Dipendra went “berserk”, said Prince Paras. “He shot at everybody in the room, anybody who moved. He must have let fly a total of 75 rounds.

“My mother took two shots in the shoulder and fell to the ground. Two other people fell on top of her, which was probably what saved her life. One of the bullets is lodged in her lung till today. Doctors say it’s too risky to extract it as it is close to her heart.”

The king’s sister, Princess Shoba, who was cradling him in her lap, put up her hand to shield herself. She lost a few fingers and there were burn marks on her face. She toppled over but she survived.

“The king’s younger brother was next to be gunned down.”

Where was Prince Paras at this time?

“We were crouching in the alcove and were fortunate not to be in the line of fire,” he said.
“I pushed everybody, including my wife, my sister and my cousins, behind the sofas.”

Then, a tinkling sound of bells outside the room caught Dipendra’s attention. It was his mother hurrying past, the sound coming from the anklets she wore.

She could have been going up to Dipendra’s bedroom to get a weapon, said Prince Paras.

“This is what I presumed happened next. Dipendra caught up with his mother at the top of the stairs and shot her. Her blood flowed down the stairs like a waterfall – it was still there long after her body was removed.”

The silence after the frenzied gunshots was deafening. The floor of the billiards room was slippery, with blood everywhere.

Price Paras stared into the distance as he recalled the horrific scene of carnage.

“The smell was horrible, that of burnt blood, the smell you get when people are shot at close range. Bodies were lying crumpled on the floor, people crying and asking for help.”

Where were the palace guards? Did they not hear the shots? They probably did.

Were they afraid to intervene or did they think Dipendra was shooting for amusement, as he sometimes did, at flower pots, at lizards?

There were times when he and his father used to test guns in the palace before deciding which one to buy for the military. Whatever the reason, they did not intervene.

The silence was broken by one final single shot, followed by a grunting sound.

Prince Paras said he heard the sound coming from near the pond in the garden. It was the same grunt he heard later from Dipendra when he took him to the hospital.

“That is why I believe he shot himself in the garden. The grunting sound was the same. It was like the groaning sound cats make at night.”

Dipendra was discovered later with a single bullet wound in the head.

But Prince Paras, who was still inside, said his priority was to tend to the people inside and get them of the palace.

“I telephoned the security people, who rushed the 14 injured, including the king and queen, to hospital. They broke a glass door to move the injured out.

“The royal couple were already dead.

“I took Dipendra and five other persons to hospital in a Landcruiser. He kept on making that grunting sound as he lay in the vehicle.”

Dipendra lived for another three days, during which time he was proclaimed king.

Prince Paras’ father, Gyanendra, who was away in Pokhara at the time, returned to the capital only two days after the shooting. Poor weather prevented his earlier return.

He became king after Dipendra’s death but was forced to give up the throne when the monarchy was abolished by the Maoist government last May.

The palace is today a national museum. The billiards room has been demolished.

Like the Nepalese monarchy, it is a thing of the past.

By Clement Mesenas & S Murali for The New Paper

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In The New Paper on Sunday (March 29, 2009), Nepal’s former crown prince revealed events that he said led his cousin to wipe out nearly all members of the royal family in 2001.

Nepal's Royal Palace: Versailles in green nylon

The ancient house of Shah had dodgy ideas on soft furnishings

THE stuffed tigers have seen better days. The big dynastic portraits, of double-chinned Nepali princes and their fair-skinned consorts, are catching dust. But the Narayanhiti Palace, Kathmandu’s recently-vacated royal residence, is less remarkable for its faded splendour than for its dreadful modern design.

Completed in 1969, on the site of an older palace, it is built in concrete and marble, with acres of laminated wood panelling and hideous pink carpet. The royal bedchamber, last occupied by King Gyanendra, whose 2005 coup led to the abolition last year of his 240-year-old Shah dynasty, is rather poky. A bedside clutter of family snapshots and porcelain knick-knacks is simply poignant.

Since it was opened to the public on February 26th, by the Maoist prime minister who chased out its occupants, the palace has had over 36,000 visitors. Some are angry. The banquet-hall, with seating for 110, stirs particular rage in a country where almost half the children under the age of five are chronically malnourished. Other visitors—perhaps 15% of the total, reckons Jayaram Mahajan, a former royal retainer who now runs the palace museum—come in reverence. As they enter, these pilgrims stoop to take a blessing from the floor. But most visitors, Mr Mahajan admits, are rather underwhelmed. Even to a poor Nepali, the palace is no Versailles.

With more royal trophies to go on display—including the crown jewels and a Daimler-Benz car given to Gyanendra’s grandfather by Hitler—the museum will improve. For now, its biggest draw is a patch of levelled ground beside the main palace. It is the site of a building, demolished by Gyanendra, where in 2001 his nephew, Crown Prince Dipendra, massacred his parents, the king and queen, and eight other relations. Helpful signs shows where each royal was killed. Beside a small pond, near where Dipendra shot his mother, Queen Aiswarya, then himself, bullet-holes are still visible.

Mr Mahajan seems to find little pleasure in his new job. “I wish the royal family had not been killed, and I wish the last king had not left the palace,” he says. It seems Gyanendra was not expecting to do so. Beside the main palace is a half-built, rain-damaged annexe, which Gyanendra had ordered for a new banquet-hall, not long before his abrupt retirement and exit.

The Economist, (Mar 27-Apr 2)