Can Nepal stifle royalist rumbles?

As children, we revered our king and thought he could accomplish any difficult task.

- MOHAN GURAGAIN

In winter, when much of the farmland would be fallow between crops, hopping terraces while keeping an eye on the grazing cattle was our pastime. We'd jump even over those twice or thrice our height, yet wouldn't dare come down higher slopes for fear of breaking our legs on the hard hillside surface.

This only the King could do! Villagers thought the king could do everything. He could bring bikas (development) to the backwaters if they had his attention. The biggest rally I saw as a child in Tehrathum was when most villagers flocked to the district headquarters Myanglung to catch a glimpse of King Birendra and Queen Aishwarya and hear their voices. The hours-long wait for the king to helicopter from the army barracks in Dhankuta paid off when we saw him waving at the mass after the dust kicked up by the flight had settled.

Birendra's aura had not faded even after the restoration of democracy in 1990, when he relinquished his absolute authority and put political parties in charge of state affairs. Even the Maoists, who waged an insurgency against the hard-fought-for political system, did not criticize the king much. Nor did they initially attack the Royal Nepal Army even as police outposts across the country were being stormed.

Then came the biggest mystery and misfortune in the Nepali monarchy's 240-year history. Birendra's family was gunned down in the heavily-guarded royal palace in 2001. A royal probe instituted in its wake blamed then-crown prince Dipendra for the massacre while he lay unconscious for a couple of days, was declared king in a coma and died. This investigation came under the watch of Gyanendra, the first of Birendra's two brothers, who had sat on the throne as a four-year-old when their grandfather, King Tribhuvan, revolted against the reigning Ranas, risking his position.