Chapter 7 | Contents | Chapter 9
The rainy season in Nepal was different from the plum rain season in Japan. Instead of a steady, long-lasting rain, the sky would darken from clear weather when you least expected it to, and a sudden shower would begin.
It was also clear the day before. Today, a dry breeze brushed across the damp earth. I’d just taken a shower and put on sunscreen, but I could already feel dust accumulating on my face as I took a morning walk in Kathmandu. Since I had to wait for Rajeshwar to contact me, I couldn’t go far, but I wanted to buy a radio, which I’d failed to obtain the day before, no matter what.
I hadn’t been able to tell Chameli that I would be back soon, but that was because she hadn’t been at the front desk. I’d sensed that there were people in the employees’ space, but no one had come out when I called. Having had no choice, I decided to quickly finish my errand and return.
I could think of two places that might sell radios. One was Indra Chowk. It would probably be fun to shop there, and I might be able to get one for cheap depending on my haggling prowess. However, right now I wanted to get a radio as soon as possible, no matter the price. Thus I headed towards the second place I could think of, New Road.
It was already my fourth day here, and I was starting to get used to seeing the streetscape of sun-dried bricks, as well as women praying in front of the statue of Shiva that had red powder sprinkled on it. Even the sight of children peering into gutters clogged with plastic bags and vegetable peelings no longer surprised me. Perhaps that was why I somehow noticed that the atmosphere in Kathmandu had slightly changed.
Yesterday, some men had gathered at a street corner and read newspapers intently in silence. There had been some who loudly lamented the loss of their king, but they had been few in number. But today, it was different.
A middle-aged man and a man with muscular upper arms were shouting angrily, their eyebrows raised. I even caught sight of a physical altercation. They were all arguing in Nepalese, so I couldn’t tell what they were saying. But after noticing one of them brandish a newspaper and point at it, I understood that their quarrels were undoubtedly caused by the shooting at the palace. Even though I’d hardly seen any anger on the streets the day before.
The Nepalese government was only releasing information in small doses. Even when everyone knew that a massacre had taken place at the royal palace, their official statement only mentioned that eight members of the royal family, including the king, had died. This led to suspicions that the Nepalese government had no intention of making any announcement regarding the palace incident in the first place, and that it would not provide a proper explanation in the future either. I thought that the people’s frustration was caused by this sense of distrust.
New Road was an electronics district. I remembered that among the various stores selling items such as cassette tapes, videotapes, electrical wires, and light bulbs, there was also a store that sold small electrical appliances. After entering a shop with a narrow entrance and deep interior like an eel’s burrow, I started searching for a radio. At the register, a plump clerk with frizzy hair and a goatee was reading a newspaper. When he noticed me, he put on a kind smile and asked.
“What are you looking for?”
It was in English. I returned his smile and replied.
“A radio.”
“A radio, huh. What kind? We also have those that can play CDs.”
“Thank you, but I’m looking for a small radio, something that can fit in my pocket.”
I said, and the clerk slowly shuffled out from behind the register. He reached for one of the shelves.
“This should be the smallest.”
It was a silver radio that didn’t look like it would fit in my pocket, but was small enough to fit in my sling bag.
“I’ll take that, please. Also, please give me a spare set of batteries and earphones.”
“Sure.”
While arranging the items I ordered neatly on the counter, the clerk glanced at me.
“You’re a tourist?”
“Yeah, kind of.”
“A time like this is when you really need a radio. If not, you won’t know what’s going on… there are all sorts of rumors, though.”
“Rumors?”
I asked while retrieving my wallet from my bag.
“I came to this city as a tourist, but I’m here on a reporting assignment now. I’m Tachiarai, a journalist working for Shinsou Monthly, a Japanese magazine. If you don’t mind, could you tell me what rumors have been going around?”
The clerk raised his head.
“A journalist, you say? Oh man, you’ve got to hear this!”
He placed his elbows on the counter and suddenly started jabbering away.
“Gyanendra wasn’t shot two days ago. Do you know why? He said he was in Pokhara.”
Gyanendra was the younger brother of the recently deceased Dipendra, and was now the new regent. It was reported this morning that he’d been absent from the dinner party, thus avoiding that disaster.
“Pokhara?”
“It’s the second biggest city in Nepal.”
“I see. So he happened to be away from Kathmandu, and was not harmed.”
“Exactly. That’s good. It happens. But then…”
The man put on a deep frown.
“The one who was in the palace yet happened to escape unharmed was Paras! Gyanendra’s son! The father happened to be absent from the dinner party, and the son was at the dinner party, but happened to survive the shooting. You think that’s a coincidence? Everyone thinks there’s something behind it all. But they won’t tell us anything anyway! 1400 rupees!”
“1400 rupees? Is that some kind of metaphor?”
“What are you talking about? 1400 rupees for the radio, batteries and earphones!”
“…Ah.”
After a spot of haggling, I got the price down to 1200 rupees.
While watching the clerk casually put the radio into a plastic bag, I thought about what he’d said. He’d hinted that there was some sort of conspiracy lurking behind this incident. Was he the only one who felt that way? Or had a similar suspicion spread across the country?
One thing I knew for certain was that the situation had changed significantly. Going by my intuition alone, it was probably for the worse.
It was probably just something he said out of idle curiosity, but what Rob said last night might actually be true. With Dipendra ascending to the throne, people likely began to suspect that there was more to the incident than meets the eye. Was there any chance that Rajeshwar knew all about what happened that night, and would be willing to tell me about it?
If I could report on that… wouldn’t it be a world-first scoop?
After quitting my job at the newspaper company, I’d made up my mind to work as a freelancer. However, not having a steady source of income was more unsettling than I thought. As long as I was working for a company, my monthly salary would always be deposited into my bank account, even if I was doing a job I didn’t like. I didn’t think that it was better back then, and I didn’t regret my choice. But back then, I never felt the chilling sense that my monthly rent was gradually eroding the ground beneath my feet.
If I could land this scoop on the truth behind the massacre at the palace, I would make a name for myself overnight. I wouldn’t have trouble finding a job for five to six years, or even ten. Depending on the circumstances, I might even be able to publish a book. Money is important. Without an income, you can’t make a living, of course, but it’s also tantamount to being told outright that your work has no value…
“Tachiarai!”
Hearing my name being called, I raised my head with a start. Trying to brush off my doubts, I shook my head. Sagar was leaning against the wall of Tokyo Lodge. Pushing firmly against the sun-dried brick wall with his palms, he dashed towards me.
“Where were you? Miss Chameli has gone out!”
Damn. Did Rajeshwar contact her? I’d only been out of the lodge for about 30 minutes. It was unlucky that we’d missed each other.
“Gone out? Where?”
“To buy groceries, of course. If not she won’t be able to cook. You know, she seemed quite worried. She asked me, ‘Where did Tachiarai go?’”
I should have definitely somehow told her where I was going, or left a memo. She might have waited for me if I’d done that. While I was wondering what I should do, Sagar grinned.
“Don’t worry, I have a message for you. Look!”
In his small hand was a small envelope. I received it, then examined each side. It was a gray envelope that was sealed with glue. Perhaps it was made of poor quality paper, but the envelope was soft and strangely flimsy. With his hands behind his head, Sagar asked.
“What’s inside?”
“Sorry, but I need to keep this a secret. Thanks.”
I handed Sagar two rupees as a tip for acting as a messenger. Shrugging, he accepted the tip.
I should have returned to my room first, but since I was in a hurry, I opened the envelope on the spot. Inside were two sheets of paper, each folded in half. One of them had English words scribbled on it.
– 2pm, Club Jasmine. Come alone. Strictly confidential.
The other was a map. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to read it, but I recognized King’s Way. I should be able to find my way there, then.
Whie I was reading the letter, Sagar was kicking at the ground in a bored manner. I folded the two sheets of paper in half as they were originally, and was putting them back into the envelope, when Sagar spoke.
“By the way, I was out ragpicking today. It didn’t look like any customers would pass by, and you weren’t awake.”
“I was awake.”
I’d woken up at eight in the morning.
“Really? But you weren’t coming out of your room. So I went towards the palace. Do you know what’s going on now?”
“No.”
Sagar took on an unusually serious expression.
“The adults were gathering. There were lots and lots of them.”
“More than yesterday?”
“Way more. They were staring down the cops, and were yelling things like, ‘Bring out Gyanendra!’ and ‘Tell us the truth!’ They were this close to having a scuffle with the cops. One small mistake and… bang!”
I’d noticed the unstable atmosphere. It wasn’t surprising for the crowd gathered in front of the palace to become overly agitated due to group psychology. Also, the police force guarding the palace were armed with rifles. Like Sagar said, it was indeed a precarious situation.
It would be a different story if gunfire had already begun, but I couldn’t let myself be intimidated just because tensions were high. I looked at my wristwatch. It was half past ten, so there was still some time until my appointment with Rajeshwar.
“Thanks, I’ll head over there.”
Wanting to go back to my room to grab my camera, I put a hand on the metal doors to Tokyo Lodge.
Sagar said from the side, “So, shall I guide you there?”
“Narayanhiti Palace, right? I know how to get there.”
He snorted mockingly.
“What you know is the path around Ratna Park from New Road, right? There’s a shortcut that is ten minutes faster, or even fifteen.”
I thought for a moment. I would probably go in front of the palace to conduct interviews multiple times from now on. Cutting travel time by twenty minutes each way would be welcome. Keeping Sagar safe would be a problem, but it should be fine if he was just leading me there.
“Alright, show me the way.”
Sagar beamed, showing his white teeth, then punched his chest twice.
In the dark corridor, I took the key to my room out of my pocket. It was tied by hemp string to a small piece of wood that had a hole drilled into it.
I entered my room, then put batteries into the radio I’d just bought.
Next, I placed the radio on the desk that was covered with scratches and switched it on. After some fiddling, I tuned it to the BBC, and the English broadcast immediately started playing.
“The government plans to issue a new statement regarding the incident later today, and…”
I couldn’t tell whether it was the radio itself or the fact that I was indoors which caused the signal to be weaker, but the sound quality was poor. It took some concentration to actually be able to listen to the news. Wanting to check if I would still be able to hear it, I plugged in the earphones. There were no problems with it.
I stuffed the radio and earphones into my sling bag, then left the lodge right away. Sagar was waiting outside.
We began walking down the alley.
Diagonally across from Tokyo Lodge was a shrine for Ganesh. There had been no one there earlier, but now a young woman was kneeling in front of it. I heard her sobbing softly when I passed her. Was she crying for the king, or for an entirely different reason?
Sagar went straight ahead at the intersection where we could get to New Road by turning right, then immediately entered a narrow alley in the gap between buildings. From here on, it would be a path I was unfamiliar with.
There should be be no change to the streetscape made of the reddish hue from sun-dried bricks, yet the roads seemed narrower to me, though that might just be a product of my imagination. A clothesline was stretched above my head, and white shirts were hanging on it, fluttering in the breeze. The scent of spices wafted over, or perhaps it was incense offered to the gods.
With unwavering footsteps, Sagar cut straight through the alley, seemingly oblivious to my presence as I followed behind him. Children walk fast. I slightly increased my pace.
There was another shrine at the side of the alley. Unlike the one near Tokyo Lodge, it was made with sun-dried bricks rather than clay plaster. A young woman was also kneeling in front of this one, and as expected, she was weeping. She sounded almost the same as the woman at the other shrine. Wondering if that woman had somehow got ahead of us, I couldn’t help but look back. I knew they were different, but I was overcome by the feeling that I’d wandered into a labyrinth.
The narrowing alley created a strong sense of oppression. Even though I knew it couldn’t be true, somewhere deep down, I was assaulted by a fear that the alley might disappear altogether. Before I knew it, there was no one around us.
Sagar spoke.
“I also saw others.”
“…What others?”
“Others like you, Tachiarai. Journalists. Or were they cameramen? I can’t tell the difference.”
Thet unexpected death of Nepal’s king had attracted the attention of the world. Naturally, journalists from all over the world would gather here.
Sagar continued haltingly.
“I remember now. Whether they were cameramen or journalists, it doesn’t actually matter. Oh, we need to turn here.”
From the narrow alley, Sagar slid his body into a gap that could hardly be considered a path.
It was a tight passage where the sun didn’t shine. As soon as I stepped into it, I was hit by the odor of something that had gone rancid… no, it smelled more like something had withered and completely rotted away. Seeing something thick and black on the ground, I stopped my foot midair. It appeared to be a banana. Looking around, I saw fruit peels, fish bones, a shirt caked in mud that had perhaps blown there from a clothesline by the wind, a lump that looked like some kind of droppings, a piece of wood, and an unidentifiable sludge-like substance scattered on the ground.
Sagar either didn’t notice the odor or didn’t care about it at all, but he kept striding steadily deeper into the darkness. Tightly gripping the strap of my sling bag, I steeled myself and pressed forward.
Kathmandu had a lot of trash. Food scraps, empty bottles, debris, and all sorts of other things were littered on both sides of every road. The only clean spots were along King’s Way. However, I never expected to encounter such an odor after turning down one of the alleys in a residential neighborhood. I thought I would quickly get used to it, but perhaps partly due to the lack of sunlight, my breathing became shallow.
“You certainly know some interesting alleys.”
I said, in part to mask the apprehension I felt inside. Sagar looked back at me while replying in a voice filled with pride.
“Well, I was born here. It’s a secret path. You’re the only one I’ve shown… whoops, that’s not right. I’ve also shown this to Yatsuda. Interesting that both of you are Japanese.”
“Yatsuda-san also needed to go to the palace?”
“No, he just asked me to give him a detailed tour of the city.”
With that, he suddenly fell silent and stopped looking back.
“…My brother did it too.”
While facing forward, Sagar said in a voice that I could barely hear.
“He also showed a journalist around, I think.”
“Your older brother who passed away?”
“Yeah. A man hired by a German was looking for a child who could explain who works at the carpet factory and how they work, and who could give a tour of the facility. So my brother accepted that job. Tachiarai, you said that you wouldn’t pay money for my stories, right? That German paid good money for it. My brother used the money to buy medicine for me, and used the rest to buy a handcart. I use it for ragpicking now. It’s very useful.”
Was he hinting at me to give him a fee for his information?
No, it didn’t feel that way., though I didn’t know what exactly he was trying to say.
“Turf wars are really tough, y’know. I also sell souvenirs, so those who specialize in ragpicking have it in for me. I give the boss 70% of what I make. I don’t think the others have to give as much.”
“There’s a boss?”
Sagar laughed with his back turned.
“Of course. He’s a scary guy.”
Sagar unexpectedly jumped forward. The alley ended abruptly.
Beyond the narrow passage lay an unexpected clearing. Sunlight flooded the space enclosed by corrugated tin sheets, where short weeds grew here and there. A deflated soccer ball was left on the ground. Parked in the area was a light car that looked like it could be driven away if its engine would start. A murmur reached my ears. I couldn’t understand a word, but voices clearly filled with anger resonated in waves.
There was another opening in the corrugated tin sheets that surrounded the clearing, besides the one we’d entered from. Sagar pointed at it.
“If you go out from there and cross the overpass you’ll be right at King’s Way.”
The unfamiliar path seemed long. It didn’t actually feel like a shortcut, but if Sagar insisted it was, then it must be so.
“Sorry, but I’ll go back now. I need to earn money, after all.”
As a tip for showing me the way, I took another two-rupee coin out of my pocket. Sagar was visibly surprised by that.
“Really? Thanks.”
He accepted it hesitantly.
As he was leaving, he said like he’d just remembered something.
“Hey Tachiarai, y’know, I loved my brother.”
I could only nod my head to that.
While watching Sagar disappear into the depths of the alley, I took out my digital camera. After checking that the low battery warning was not appearing, I started running off towards the direction of the sound.
The area in front of Narayanhiti Palace was occupied by the crowd.
People were shouting at the top of their lungs. There were no uniform slogans, and I couldn’t see any placards or anything of the sort. It was like everyone was raising their voices at the same time, driven solely by their anger. Many men with their heads shaven were in the crowd. They made up roughly a third of the crowd that looked to be three or four thousand strong, and they were all protesting loudly, their fists raised in the air.
I was standing a short distance away from the last row of the crowd. From here to the palace there was a sea of people as far as the eye could see, and I couldn’t make out what was going on right in front of the main gate. Sagar had said that there was a confrontation between the crowd and the police, but I couldn’t check if that was still ongoing.
For the time being, I loitered behind the mass of people. Their voices were loud, intense, and filled with rage. I could put that into words, but not into a photo. To get a picture that conveys the atmosphere of the moment, I would have to get in front of the crowd. Only by standing at the front row and looking back from there would I be able to capture the people’s anger.
I wondered if there was a shortcut I could take, but Sagar who had guided me here was already gone. In the first place, I shouldn’t bring a child to a place like this. If I really wanted to capture the faces of people, there was no option but to somehow push through the crowd. However, if they turned violent while I was in the midst of moving, or if the police suddenly started firing, I wouldn’t have anywhere to run. The situation still seemed fine, but…
Was there a better method? I scanned my surroundings, and noticed that there was a van with a parabolic antenna parked nearby. Was it from a Nepalese television station? A cameraman was on the roof of that van, reaching out and filming the crowd. It seemed that he’d given up on getting in front. He couldn’t charge into the crowd in that broadcast van, after all.
Besides that, I could see a few people who looked to be reporters here and there. Among them, a two-man team who were having a conversation on the other side of the road caught my eye. One of them was a young man wearing a checkered shirt and gray pants, while the other was a bearded middle-aged man with a bandana and holding a camera. It was not similar to my digital camera which was akin to a toy, but was small for a professional one.
I had a feeling that the two of them might be Japanese. That was because the younger of the two was wearing sneakers from a Japanese shoemaker. Of course, one of them wearing shoes made in Japan didn’t necessarily mean that they were from Japan. But as Sagar had told me, I could simply ask if they were Japanese, and I wouldn’t get punched in the face even if I was mistaken.
Crossing the four-lane road, I approached them. The one wearing a bandana was the first to notice me. Though he gave me a questioning look, he bowed slightly. I started talking to him.
“Hello. I am Tachiarai Machi, working for Shinsou Monthly. Are you from a Japanese newspaper?”
“Oh, yes, that’s right. Nice to meet you.”
The one to answer was the younger of the two. With a relieved expression, he pulled out a business card holder.
The young man was called Ikeuchi, and he was a journalist for Chugai Newspaper. The man with the bandana turned out to not be a cameraman, but an interpreter, and he was called Nishi. As expected, he was based in the Delhi branch. After receiving my namecard, Nishi said curtly.
“I’ll go off for a bit.”
With that, he left. Ikeuchi pulled out a handkerchief to wipe off the sweat on his forehead.
“I didn’t think that someone from Shinsou Monthly would come all the way here.”
The mobility of a monthly magazine could never reach that of a newspaper company or television station with overseas branches. It was natural for Ikeuchi to be surprised. I smiled lightly.
“I just happened to be in Kathmandu for something else.”
Ikeuchi let out a sigh.
“That’s lucky. It was a grueling schedule for me. I only got here last night, and I didn’t have any time to gather information before this big crowd appeared.”
“If you only got here last night, were you able to report on the funeral procession?”
“Barely, though we had to use photos from Reuters… By the way, do you have any information?”
Information that one news organization had obtained exclusively might sometimes be kept under wraps, but journalists would readily exchange anything that was likely to come out through other channels sooner or later. That was because, for most of us in this line of work, the fear of missing out on information that other news organizations had obtained was stronger than the desire to score a scoop of our own.
But right now, I had no such information to share. I’d been solely relying on news from the BBC, and I would only be meeting with the best source of information later. I couldn’t possibly tell him about Rajeshwar, so I shook my head.
“Just a rumor, but… people find it suspicious that the new regent Gyanendra was absent from the dinner party because he happened to be in Pokhara. Also, his son was at the party, but was unharmed.”
Ikeuchi nodded two or three times.
“I’ve heard that the regent’s son was unharmed, but that Gyanendra wasn’t in Kathmandu is new to me.”
“That hasn’t been verified yet, though.”
“I see. Anyway, speaking of rumors, have you heard the one about Paras?”
“The regent’s son, right?”
“Exactly.”
Even amid all the shouting, Ikeuchi seemed to lower his voice a little.
“There’s a bad rumor about him going around. Gyanendra is already unpopular among the people here, and he’s famous for being against democratization. But Paras is even more unpopular, for being too vulgar. He’s notorious for his wild womanising, and people say he’s involved in drug trafficking as well. They even say that he has killed someone in a hit-and-run. But since he’s royalty, he can’t be brought to justice.”
“…That seems quite hard to believe.”
After all, we were already in the 21st century. In the 21st century I imagined as a child, there were no members of the royal family who could kill people without being arrested. Ikeuchi shrugged.
“It’s apparently quite well-known. A Nepali migrant worker who frequented our Delhi bureau was the first to tell us about this after hearing about the massacre.”
After accepting that such a thing might be possible, I started to understand the reason for the commotion in front of the palace. Basically, both the royal family and government in this country were not trusted. It is not uncommon for a government to be distrusted by its people even though its top leader is deeply respected. In Yugoslavia, people mourned the death of Tito, but the government failed to protect the country. It could probably be said that so many people gathered at yesterday’s procession solely due to Birendra’s personal popularity.
“Thank you very much.”
“Same to you. I’m staying at Shishapangma Hotel. Do let me know if anything comes up.”
“I’m staying at a guesthouse called Tokyo Lodge.”
“Tokyo Lodge? There’s a guesthouse like that?”
“Yes, there is. It at least has water… well, not exactly.”
Ikeuchi chuckled. Perhaps he knew about the water outages.
Now that our brief exchange of information had ended, we should have gone back to our own reporting. But at that moment, a wave of sound suddenly crashed into us. The packed crowd had let out a cry that was almost like a scream.
“What’s that?”
I thought the police were starting to suppress the crowd. But not a single person ran, and they instead shouted even louder.
“Seems like something happened.”
If it seemed like a stampede would occur, we had to secure an escape route. As we kept an eye on the situation, the interpreter Nishi trotted back.
“Nishi-san, what’s going on?”
Nishi shook his head in response to Ikeuchi’s question.
“I don’t know. The news said something about that, but…”
Something clicked in my head, and I opened up my sling bag. Then, I took out the radio and put in batteries. BBC news started playing, exactly as I’d tuned it back in Tokyo Lodge. Ikeuchi’s eyes widened.
“Great idea! Shinsou Monthly’s, um…”
“Tachiarai.”
With that, the three of us turned our ears towards the radio. The poor quality sound was mixed with the yelling of people, making it difficult to hear, so I twisted the volume knob all the way to the end.
If I didn’t mishear, this is what the news said:
“…That was a statement from the newly appointed regent, Prince Gyanendra. To repeat, the regent announced a short while ago that the deaths of King Birendra and the other members of the royal family had been caused by the accidental discharge1 of an automatic rifle. According to the announcement, eight people were killed when the weapon went off…”
I instinctively looked at Ikeuchi’s face. Ikeuchi was staring blankly at Nishi, while Nishi was glaring at the radio with a pained expression.
No one was convinced by that. In fact, they were practically announcing that they had no intention of getting to the bottom of the incident. Listening to the yells of thousands of people, Ikeuchi muttered.
“This doesn’t seem like a good move.”
I felt the same way.
Meanwhile, I was thinking about something else. If things were getting that heated, it would be impossible to get in front of the crowd for a photo. I’d missed my chance.
Still, I held up my camera and took a few pictures. I knew perfectly well that photographs showing only the backs of people’s heads would be of no use, and yet I took them anyway. It was nothing more than a futile attempt to hold on to something.
Chapter 7 | Contents | Chapter 9
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