Royal Rage

The docile palace guards, trained more for fawning servitude than martial prowess, had no way of knowing that the stammering Friday-night comings and goings of the huffy Crown Prince Dipendra would turn out to be the prelude to a murder spree that would leave eight dead, including King Birendra and Queen Aiswarya. When the Crown Prince, 30, and his cousin Prince Paras, 27, arrived at the palace for dinner, they were dressed casually in khaki slacks and polo shirts and had already had a few drinks. The two were notorious prowlers of the Kathmandu nightlife circuit, regulars at the X-Zone nightclub and the Bakery Café where they were at the center of a swirl of hip kids and young adults whose preferred mode of transportation is Lexus suvs and whose favored intoxicant is locally processed hashish. By the time the night was over, the two would become the central figures in a family tragedy of national scope and symbols of the troubled terrain into which many Nepalese fear their country has entered.

Nepal is defiantly individualistic, to the point of setting its clocks 15 minutes ahead of neighboring India and practicing its own syncretic but resolutely devout brand of Hinduism. But it has always been something of an international afterthought. Sandwiched between subcontinental superpower India and media-darling Tibet, Nepal has seen its identity become so muddled it now comes across as merely a staging ground for Everest expeditions and a destination where stoned Western hippies can score killer brownies. For Nepalis, particularly those who live in the capital Kathmandu, the bewildering influx of backpackers combined with a new generation of Nepalis who party like Westerners, has left them wondering what will become of the formerly ancestor-worshiping, opposite-sex-avoiding Nepalese youth. Traditionalists and monarchists lay blame for the nascent dissolution on the creeping liberalism engendered by a 10-year-old democracy that has seen 10 Prime Ministers come and go and corruption scandals that plague the current government of Girija Prasad Koirala. King Birendra had ruled Nepal as an absolute monarch until 1990, when violent pro-democracy protests forced him to step down in favor of a constitutional monarchy. But critics assail the new democratic values, saying they seem to encourage people to do whatever feels right regardless of the consequences: dump the PM, take a bribe, kiss your partner before marriage. If the monarchy were still absolute, they gripe, traditional values would prevail.

Yet the crime that has emerged as the most heinous and shocking in Nepalese history was perpetrated in the innermost sanctum of that monarchy. At a little after 9 p.m. last Friday, the mustachioed Crown Prince took his place at the teak dining table. After pouring himself another drink, he began arguing with his parents, shouting at the Queen who didn't approve of his romance with longtime paramour Devyani Rana, 23. The Crown Prince was furious that his family wanted him to marry a princess of royal blood. His sister Shruti scolded him: "Stop slurring your words, you're the future King." According to a high-ranking official, the Crown Prince left the room, retiring to his sleeping quarters where he changed into camouflage fatigues and equipped himself with an M-16 rifle and a revolver. Using a private corridor to return to the dining room, he barged in, firing a burst from the assault rifle, which killed his parents, then shot 12 others with automatic rounds. He then apparently turned the revolver upon himself, firing a .38 slug through his temple. The spree took less than 30 seconds.

By the time palace aides entered the room, they found the King's head had been blown nearly in half and the Queen's body was unrecognizable save for the sari she had been wearing. Eight of the victims were declared dead on arrival at the Royal Nepal Army Hospital. Five others were in critical condition. "The greatest shock of my entire life," is how Madhav Kumar Rimal, central committee member of Green Nepal Party, describes the killings. He was the last person besides palace officials and those victimized in the shooting to have seen the King alive.

Shruti, the murdered sister of the Crown Prince, had been prophetic when she admonished her brother. The next morning, in a coma and sustained by life-support systems and respirators, the Prince who killed the King was enthroned as King. The Privy Council declared that his uncle, King Birendra's brother Prince Gyanendra, would serve as Regent. The question of whether the Crown Prince acted alone has become a national obsession. Rumors mentioned Paras, whose family emerged from the shooting spree virtually unscathed. The fact that his branch of the family will benefit most has prompted much speculation.

For now, it is one of the ironies of this peculiar combination of regicide and patricide that the murderer should ascend to the throne. This legally valid, though morally dubious, succession--along with skepticism that the Crown Prince acted alone--could precipitate a constitutional and societal crisis in an already fragile democracy. "If the King himself has been deprived of justice," asks rickshaw-puller Buta Misir, "then what can we poor people expect?" In Kathmandu over the weekend, agitated crowds gathered around the palace, and there were reports of panic buying of staple foods and gasoline. During the funeral procession, grieving crowds stoned the PM and other ministers, blaming the government for not doing enough to protect the King.

King Birendra's legacy is mixed. He had made the transition from absolutism gracefully, staying above factional politics and striving through literacy programs and public works to project the image of the royal family as a discreet, benevolent force. Ambassador Keshav Raj Jah, a former chief of protocol, recalls that on a 1994 visit to Italy, the King traveled by unmarked bus and stopped at McDonald's for coffee and snacks. "He refused to allow his security detachment to tell people who he was," says Raj Jah. "He waited in line just like the other motorists."

Now Nepalis are left with a comatose King who killed his father, and a Regent with disdain for the democratic process. The Saha dynasty, proprietor of a 300-year lineage whose members are believed by some to be the living incarnations of the Hindu god Vishnu, has been virtually eradicated in a few bursts of small arms. Nepalis are still pondering and questioning the gruesome official account of the massacre. But their longer-term question is: Into what kind of society is their mountain kingdom evolving?