A GURKHA MOTHER’S TEARS (Satis Shroff) (Death of a Precious Jewel) A Nepalese mother sits in front of her verandah, smokes her crude cigarette looks at the lofty Himalayan peaks and contemplates: my Nepal, what has become of you? Your features have changed with time. The innocent face of the Kumari has changed to that of the blood-thirsty countenance of Kal Bhairab, from development to destruction, from bikas to binas. I have lived to see a crown prince who fell in love, but couldn’t assert himself, in a palace where ancient traditions still prevail. Despite Eton college and a liberal education, he chose guns instead of rhetoric, and ended his young life, as well as those of his parents and other royal members. An aunt from London aptly remarked on Nepal TV: ‘He was like the terminator.’ Another bloodshed in a Gorkha palace, recalling the Kot massacre under Jung Bahadur Rana. You’re no longer the same. There’s insurrection and turmoil against the governmen
