Narayanhiti Tragedy

Today I left school early to join Steven to see the Narayanhiti Palace Museum in Thamel, being one of his last days here before his trek, and something he has wanted to see. I stayed until my last class at 1, ate a quick lunch with the principal, then went off to find a micro that would take me to Ratna Park where we were to meet. After asking directions from multiple confused Nepali men, all waving me in the most general of directions, I finally found my way to the park. I waited for him in front of this beautiful white temple that is extended out over a once-serene pond, now fenced off to the public. Once united, we walked together to the museum a few blocks away, talking about my art class and all of the talented little children I get the pleasure of teaching everyday. Upon arriving at the front gate we bought our tickets, checked our bags, and passed through a small “security checkpoint.” There was one for males and one for females, where we walked into a small tent made of sheets where a woman but grazed my hip, supposedly checking for concealed weapons, while her baby bounced in a baby chair in the corner.

            We then made our way up to the front doors of the palace, walking up the glistening stone steps, lined on either side with shining black stone statues of exotic animals. The great doors were made of ornately carved wood, rising up far above our heads, hauled open by abnormally large door handles. The main entrance hall held beautiful Victorian furniture, a great tiger stretched over the center of the floor, its ferocity claimed by the hunter and the taxidermist that repurposed it into its new form of floor covering. Several other tigers stood upright as if lunging for attack strategically placed about the corners of the room, finding many other unfortunate victims placed throughout the palace.

We walked from decadent room to decedent room, each named after a mountain, painted in white above the door. A placard stood in every room, explaining what it was once used for; the lounge where the heads of state waited for meetings, the tearoom where the royals entertained their honorary guests, the smoking lounge where one would sit before and after meals, speaking of the events of the time. We passed down narrow, high-ceilinged hallways where pictures hung of the royal family posed with their many important guests, all placed uncomfortably high on the wall, forcing us to crane our necks, as if looking at those lofty men and women should remain uncomfortable, even after their deaths. Entering the bedroom for visiting heads of state, we were amazed by the painted-silk walls, curving in soft indentations, a large mirror capturing the whole room and reflecting back into a mirrored dresser placed just below it. We were shocked by a strange trend of severed elephant and rhino foot tables and stools placed in almost every room, taking the name “foot-stool” to a whole new level. The ancient trend of big-game hunting was evident, the decapitated heads of all of the greatest animals staring us down as we passed innocently through the museum.

Before bringing this post further I would like to give a brief background of Nepal’s political history and present standings. As I have come to know, Nepal was ruled by the royal family and known as “the Kingdom of Nepal” until as recently as 2001, when the monarchy fell. This breaking is actually quite intriguing, a sudden occurrence within the family itself that brought about its end. As it is told, the king and queen had a son, among other children, and when this son was a young man he found love outside of his future arranged-marriage. In Nepali culture this is not allowed, and the parents made that very clear. He then went totally violent and crazy and massacred the whole royal family, then killing himself, eerily, at the palace that is now a museum. If that’s not wild enough it just blew my mind it was so recent, and after the family’s death a new king stepped into place, but was soon overthrown when Nepal plunged into a civil war, only ending a handful of years back. The country now stands as a democracy, though it is not very successful, the infrastructure being non-existent and poverty consuming much of the population. I have seen the politics of Nepal in action in the form of strikes, which have picked up because of the coming election, full stoppages of traffic and transportation for days at a time.

So back to the palace. Since the royal family’s inhabitance of the estate was so recent much of the furniture reflected that, a clash happening between fine Victorian-style pieces and art deco inspired vintage shelves, desks, chairs and tables. This made the collection together look like something out of vintage collector’s dream. Even the architecture flowed in this way, strangely modern with its rounded edges and large cylindrical forms. The throne room was the oddest, almost indescribable, its ceiling nearly reaching the sky, supported by large white supports, elaborate murals of the gods painted on them, almost like a Hindu interpretation of the Italian frescos. Like many great things in Nepal the throne was elaborate and glistening with gold and red, taking on the appearance of a large day bed.

Once through the entire palace with its endless rooms and corridors we found ourselves on a small path leading to the garden, placed on the land in the back of the estate. Our joking of wanting to see some action and blood of where the family fell suddenly became real. Confused, and slightly creeped-out we followed signs marked “massacre sight,” finally finding ourselves in front of a large diagram, showing the precise spots where each royal had fallen. Placards marked the places where they breathed their last breaths, watching in horror as their prince mercilessly shot down their family. The building in which it happened had been torn down after the occurrence, but the foundations of the rooms still stand, letting your imagination get the best of you. One wall of a remaining garden house was marked with a sign pointing out bullet holes from misfires. The whole experience was so surreal, the rest of the garden now falling to a sort of forgotten jungle, mismanagement overtaking it.

We left the palace amazed at its grandeur and many rooms. Making a quick trip through Thamel, we found our way down the narrow streets back to the buses, and then finally back home to our small flat, the evening falling upon us.