The King and I

Richard T. Wurster, Los Angeles, California.

The following is taken from my memoirs, a

chapter entitled "the King and I." It is a

tribute to a great man, whose loss will

impact on the entire country and

have profound effects on Nepal’s future.

The phone rings at 9:00 a.m. at my UN office in Kathmandu, and Meera answers it in the next room. It is a large modern office with a conference area across the room, where 10 people can sit comfortably around a table. There are three telephones and a fax machine on my desk, which give the appearance of a modern communications system, but all the telephones rarely work at the same time, and getting a reliable telephone service man in Nepal is probably more difficult than finding a brain surgeon. Unfortunately, the UN building was made with paper-thin internal walls, so I could hear someone sneeze in the next office.

Now, I can hear Meera’s voice speaking in Nepali. She also speaks English quite well, because she was one of the lucky Nepalese, who attended one of the government schools, where the teachers themselves just barely speak English. Then, I hear Lakshman’s voice and ignore them both and continue reading the E-mails from my headquarters in Rome. I know that I have good staff members, who protect me from the dozens of routine calls that come every day to the UN office. Meera has been the secretary to at least 6 other FAO Representatives, before I arrived in Nepal. Lakshman has been a Senior Program Officer for over 15 years, handling the projects of FAO, the Food and Agricultural Organization of the United Nations.

I only became Head of FAO in Nepal, from 1993 to early 1998. I think to myself, "how fortunate I was to be sent to Nepal, after three miserable years in Sudan, where a civil war is still going on." My thoughts drift back to the country I left three years ago and I think to myself, maybe, I was lucky to have survived that one. Others I knew were not so lucky. Some day I should write my memoirs about my experiences in 8 different third world countries." I wonder if people will believe me when I tell them I was in Sudan, at exactly the same time as Carlos the Jackel and Osama Bin Laden. Suddenly, I am back in Nepal, as Meera brings my appointment schedule and a huge stack of mail. "Please keep your voices down, Meera; I have to finish this report." Yes, sir she replies as she empties my out tray. "I wish my staff would stop calling me "Sir", but they won’t; it is the Nepali way with foreigners." Maybe, I am too autocratic with my Nepali staff; I am not that way with my foreign staff members.

The Nepalese are used to a system that works from "the top down." There is the King and a strict hierarchy down to the lowest cast, known as the "untouchables." I always hated that word, which refers to a group of people who are treated as almost "sub-human" with no opportunity to advance themselves. However, I guess it is unlikely that I will be able to change a system that has existed for 1000’s of years. I can’t even change the system in my own office.

It’s now 10:00 and the phone is still ringing. Damn it, how will I get any work done? Then Meera bursts into my office, which she has never done before. "Sir, sir, the Palace is on the line." "Meera, what do you mean? Who is one the line? The King, the King, sir." "Meera, please calm down." The King doesn’t call people. No, Sir, she says, excitedly. She would agree with me no matter what I said. "Then who called me, Meera?" "His Majesty’s Chief of Staff called you, sir." Now, I realize that she is serious. At that moment, Lakshman runs into my office. He is always calm and knows the right thing to do according to Nepali protocol. "They want you to come to the Palace," The King has asked to see you at 12:00 o’clock, Lakshman says calmly. I glance at my watch; it is 11:20. "Lakshman, that’s impossible." With the Kathmandu traffic we won’t make it. You can’t be late for the King, so we have to leave right away. The car is waiting, so I grab my necktie and jacket and race for the car and we head for the Palace. Surendra, the FAO driver, who used to work in the travel business, is flying the UN Flag as we speed off in the direction of the palace in the middle of Kathmandu.

Sitting in the back seat of my flag car, I finally manage to collect my thoughts, as we get stuck in the first traffic jam. A few days ago, I had received an invitation from our Headquarters addressed to his Majesty, the King, inviting him to deliver the keynote address at the World Food Day observance, in Rome. This would be a major event, including such world personalities as the Pope, and many heads of state. Even Fidel Castro had been there. Our Director General in Rome has asked me to personally deliver his invitation to His Majesty the King.

I clutch the invitation tightly in my hand as we weave in and out of traffic, occasionally ignoring the signals of traffic policemen. You can do that when you are a diplomat flying the flag of the UN in Nepal. I wouldn’t tell anyone, but I am feeling rather proud of myself at that very moment. The big white Toyota Crown starts to move again, as we made our way through the heavy traffic, which seems to get worse every year. Every manner of conveyance is on the road: people, bicycles, donkey carts, even a trolley bus, given to Nepal by the Chinese, and of course numerous cows. The cows are holy to Hindus and cows seem to know it. One cow can block traffic for hours, until it decides to get out of the middle of the street. A religious person would never think of pushing her out of the way. They say, the penalty is same whether you run over a man or a cow. That seemed to me to be a good reason to have a driver.

God, what if we are late? How can you explain that to a King? In fact, I was a bit nervous at the prospect of meeting the King for the first time in the palace. Of course, I had seen him in reception lines several times, but this is different. I felt really pleased that I would have the honor of personally delivering the invitation to the King. Somehow, I felt that this was the high point of my career. After all how often does one meet a King? Fortunately, Lakshman had briefed me earlier on what to say when you meet the King. "Good afternoon, your Majesty, and wait for his response. My God, can you imagine saying something like that to a President of the United States? I have met US presidents and it was just "Mr. President."

Suddenly, we reach the Palace gates, which swing open, as the guards salute me. I am really excited about being inside of the palace grounds for the first time. I’m enjoying this and wondering what comes next. The grounds inside the palace are vast, and we pass building after building, each one of which is guarded by smartly dressed uniformed guards. Then suddenly the car stops in front of the main Palace and my driver opens my door. I walk unaccompanied to the main entrance. No one stops me, so I enter past smaller doors into an office, where an attractive secretary says in perfect English, "please take a seat, Sir." I sit for what seems like an hour getting more nervous by the minute. God, I hope they don’t cancel this meeting. I wonder how many people will be present when I meet the king. Surely, he must have a huge staff.

The door opens and the French Ambassador leaves and the King’s Press Secretary, says "His Majesty will see you now" and leads the way to the Kings inner office. I have never been more excited. The King welcomes me and motions for me to sit down at a table across from Him. Suddenly, I realize that no one else is in the room, just the King and I. He is dressed in traditional Nepali clothing, which is loose white trouser with a business jacket. "But where are his staff, I wonder." I had expected a room full of people, but there was no one else, just the King and I.

Hi Majesty speaks softly and clearly in perfect Oxford English. His manor is disarming, almost humble. I am not nervous any longer. He begins by thanking me for the work the UN is doing in Nepal. Then we talk for almost half an hour about the many problems facing the country, and I am convinced that here is a man who genuinely cares about his people. "We are a poor country", the King says "and we need all the help the UN is providing." When it comes my turn to speak, I say "Your Majesty, our Organization would be honored to have you deliver the keynote address on the World Food Day in Rome," I say and hand him the invitation."

I know we have been talking a long time, but do not know when I should leave. The King continues, "Why has FAO chosen Nepal for this honor at the World Food Summit?" "Your Majesty, Nepal has made a great deal of effort in increasing food production, which can serve as an example to other developing countries," I reply. We then discuss the major points that the King wants to include in his address and I happily offer some suggestions. Finally, I sense that the time has come to end the meeting. The King stands up which is my signal to leave. He thanks me for coming. I feel proud and privileged to have had this opportunity to meet a great leader, and I know that I will never forget this day.

As for the King, himself, although he is a constitutional monarch like the British Queen, so the political power rests with an elected government. I leave with the impression of a sincere leader, who wants to help his people. I hope he rules for many years, I think to myself as I bid him farewell. Nepal needs him now, more than ever to bring stability and peace to one of the poorest countries in the world.

As I am writing this exactly 60 years after the attack on Pearl Harbor, I am saddened by the events of this year. The worse tragedy in the history of my country occurred on September 11, 2001. Compared with the tragedy of Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, in which 2403 Americans died. More than 3,300 innocent people died on September 11th. In four criminal suicide missions, radical Muslim extremists flew two hijacked airliners into the World Trade Center in New York, another into the Pentagon in Washington and a fourth airliner, which may have been heading for the White House or the U.S. capital building, crashed in Pennsylvania.

The tragedy in America, may have been on a much larger scale, that the events of June 2, 2001, in Nepal, which claimed the lives of the King and Queen and other members of the Royal family, but the impact on Nepal was just as great. At least, the carnage, which occurred in the U.S., brought Americans together determined not to yield to terrorism. I can only wish that the same thing was happening in Nepal, but the deep political divisions within the country do not seem to offer much hope for a political settlement of the conflict. 

A journey less ordinary

"These paintings which I have drawn under certain themes are like novels. If I sell parts of the series to different people it will be like tearing up a book and selling different pages to different people"

The size of his paintings range from wide and huge ones to small card size ones and his artistic genius find their best expression in his miniature paintings. They have to be seen to be believed, writes Aman Adhikary

Imagine a lone artist in a lone tent amidst the frozen beauty and the majesty of Manasarovar lake. Imagine capturing this enchanting lake from its bank in a canvass using the water from  this holy lake itself. Picture a solitary pilgrim lost in his artwork by the bank of the holy Ganges, using her water to depict the religious spots marvels of nature along the bank of this river. Most of the aspiring and even the established artists dream of such adventurous experiences. To many, such things never materialize but for the man I am talking about, it's a way of life. He is Jimmy Thapa, a nature artist.

During his youth, Thapa loved to work on the themes of nature by immersing himself completely into her. His earlier paintings start with the series of paintings of the river Ganges, the Bagmati river and themes on death. Many reputed foreign as well as local artists greatly admire his miniature paintings, which are of the size of visiting cards. "For seven months I traveled along the banks of the Ganges painting the pristine beauty of the forest, the brooks, temples, pilgrims and the pilgrimage spots," he remembers. The series starts from the painting of the Ganges cascading down in the form of a waterfall and ends in painting of the sea in Calcutta. "Living in Dharmashalas with hermits' ashrams and using the holy water of Ganges in paintings was indeed an experience of a lifetime. My entire journey was a smooth and peaceful one. It is amazing how nature supports man when he completely surrenders himself to her," he adds in a matter of fact tone.

Born in Lumbini, Thapa did his schooling in Darjeeling, India. "I was never keen on studies. I started to sketch at the age of 12. I have never studied painting under any teacher or institution. Nature has been my teacher and my sole source of inspiration. I have visited almost all of the holy places in Nepal and India in search of themes to paint," says this highly accomplished artist. Thapa's investigative approach in painting distinguishes him from other artists. "I do an intent study of my subject matter before painting them. I read any material I find on them and do a thorough investigation," he explains.

The size of his paintings range from wide and huge ones to small card size ones and his artistic genius find their best expression in his miniature paintings. They have to be seen to be believed. There are altogether more than 400 of these exquisite works. One needs a magnifying glass to see the minute details of the paintings and admire them fully. The grandeur of these paintings is difficult to capture in words. One must see them for himself to believe that an artist can capture such details of nature and people in his paintings in such small canvass. "The paintings are done with triple zero brush with 3 to 4 strands of hair pulled out,' informs Thapa, when asked with what he drew such magical paintings. One of the paintings of Bagmati series drawn in minuscule, which depicts a full moon night on the bank of Bagmati river with a corpse and a lone person beside it, is unnervingly real. Even in such a small-scale painting he has not missed out a single detail of the Bramhanal area in Pashupatinath. From desolation of the corpse watcher to the stars on the sky and from the steps leading to the temple to the Dharmashala near by, the artist has captured everything in the painting. This is just one piece of the astounding range of his tiny paintings.

With more than 13,000 paintings to his name, Thapa's paintings are enough to house a gallery. This artist has exhibited his miniature paintings at various places but never put them up for sale. "These paintings which I have drawn under certain themes are like novels. If I sell parts of the series to different people it will be like tearing up a book and selling different pages to different people," opines Thapa. "To make a living I design spiritual motifs for cards, calendars, and wall paintings," he says.

The once nomadic artist who roamed far and wide painting and exploring nature has finally settled in Gol-dhunga, an unbelievably enchanting place on the foothills of Nagarjuna range. Overlooking the paddy fields amidst the backdrop of Nagarjuna forest lies his sprawling, gallery like bungalow, a fitting abode for the artist for whom painting is synonymous to meditating. With the passage of time, Thapa has gradually switched to themes on Gods and Goddesses, peace, harmony and universal brotherhood. Though, at present, he draws spiritual motifs alone, one can see that throughout his artistic journey, his themes have never digressed from the wonders of nature and the creator. This artist has a wealth of knowledge of astronomy and Hindu and Tibetian mythology. "I believe in divine powers. I feel that at the present turbulent state of our country, that only can protect us. No other powers can ensure our safety and well being. I meditate and heal myself and pray for the eternal peace of the whole world as I paint. Painting for me is like worship," reflects the artist.

Walls in his workroom are lined with painting of Chitipati, Swetatara, Padma Shambhav, and many other paintings of gods and goddesses of the Hindu pantheon. He does most of his major works on Lokta paper-a hand made Nepali paper. For the past thirty years he has been painting on this paper. Engrossed in his world of art and meditation, Thapa paints to perfect his art and his meditation skills rather than for fame or money. "I know, I will be remembered for my works even if I do not strive to be in limelight now. I am concentrating my energies in art rather than in publicity stuffs, he says." From his marvelous miniature paintings to paintings of nature and finally to paintings of deities, Jimmy Thapa has indeed come a long way in his spiritual and artistic journey.

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