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If Monarchs are born into isolation and dictators make their own, few leaders were ever more alone than the autocratic King Gyanendra. He knew solitude from an early age: his family abandoned him as a 3-year-old when they fled a previous round of unrest in 1950, leaving him—the second, expendable son—to mind the throne. If there was any benefit to this abandonment, it may be that it fostered in Gyanendra a formidable sense of independence. While other royals never strayed far from the palace, he became a businessman and participated little in public life. It was typical that on June 1, 2001, as the royal family met for dinner at Narayanhity Palace in Kathmandu, he was away on business in western Nepal.
That evening sealed his isolation. A little before midnight, Gyanendra's nephew, Crown Prince Dipendra, took two machine guns and a revolver and shot dead his parents (King Birendra and Queen Aishwarya), a brother, a sister, and five other relatives before shooting himself. A palace inquiry revealed Dipendra was numb from whiskey and hashish; friends said he was angry that his mother had refused to let him marry his girlfriend. In an instant, Gyanendra had lost most of his family and went from businessman to King. Dipendra also killed off much of the royal family's popularity. Gyanendra became the subject of bizarre, unfounded conspiracy theories, which Prachanda perpetuates, referring to him as "the infamous fratricidal and regicidal King Gyanendra."
Gyanendra has remained steadfast in the face of controversy and crisis. Indeed, he seems to relish his power, remarking, "I feel it must be my destiny." But if power suits Gyanendra, it also intensifies his isolation. An assassination target, he ventures no farther than his palace offices for weeks at a time. Still, he denies he is "confined" or out of touch, saying, "I am fully satisfied that I am hearing the voice of the people." Among the few commoners he does see are his generals. A longtime friend of the King says the top brass "surrounded him and cut him off." And as people "who tend to see things in black and white," by last November they had persuaded him to seize power. Even then, the King didn't leave home: he announced his takeover from a television studio he had built for the purpose inside the palace.
Gyanendra claims he will ultimately restore democracy to Nepal, and most observers believe he's being sincere—"we're taking the King at his word," says one Western diplomat. Nepal's army, however, seems less inclined toward self-restraint. Even before Feb. 1, the U.N. and others accused the R.N.A. of having one of the world's worst human-rights records. Since then, soldiers have opened fire on a student protest in the tourist town of Pokhara on Feb. 2; they killed five Nepali Congress workers in Lamjung district a day later, according to party spokesman Minendra Rijal; and they regularly report mass killings of "terrorists." Most disturbing are army reports of spontaneous "uprisings" against the Maoists. In Kapilbastu district in southern Nepal, for example, the army claimed that a "village defense committee" rose up and killed 30 Maoists on Feb. 17. The new ministers of law, labor and education even helicoptered in to congratulate the nation's brave defenders. But a human-rights group that visited the area on March 2 and interviewed numerous eyewitnesses alleges that the village defense committee was in reality a mob organized by the army to target suspected Maoists. "This mob moved to 21 villages—killing people, torturing them, raping, looting and setting fire to the houses," reported the human-rights group, which asks not to be named. "A dozen people have been killed, a girl raped, and 325 houses set on fire, leaving about 2,000 people homeless."
Human Rights Watch's Zarifi accuses the armed forces of being "far more effective at terrorizing their own citizens than fighting the Maoists." He adds: "They effectively own the country." Gyanendra insists the revolt in Kapilbastu was genuine. "The people are rising up," he says. "I welcome these moves." But it's doubtful that the King fully controls Nepal's army, which is poorly trained, spread across the Himalayas and linked only by patchy communications. A Western diplomat observes: "We think he's still in charge, but it's becoming a legitimate question."
If anything is beyond question, it's that many more lives will be lost in this seemingly intractable conflict. Gyanendra acknowledges that he has chosen "a path strewn with many, many thorns." Prachanda agrees that "sacrifice is inevitable." In Gairigaon, First Brigade's vice political commissar Atal smiles at his teenage soldiers as he exhorts them to risk their lives for the revolution. Many of these young fighters have already lost family members in the war, says Atal: "It changed their thoughts. It gave them great thoughts. They're ready to die." No doubt, they will.
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