Chapter One

The year was 2011

The monsoon clouds were all around the Tribhuvan International as the small aircraft buzzed towards the far end of the domestic airstrip before raising its head upwards in a silent prayer, to signal the first leg of our saunter to Mount Everest. It was without doubt the smallest plane I had ever been on. We looked down to see Kathmandu scurrying away as if offended at the saunter and our mission.

As the plane soared laboriously, I watched the thick fog and clouds with apprehension, wondering how the pilot could see anything in these conditions. I sent out an elfin, nonetheless passionate prayer to God. As if in response the aircraft climbed higher into the bright sunshine before turning its nose towards the north- east, while we released the chains and leaned back.

The flight on such a small plane through the mightiest mountain ranges in the world was mind-blowing, to say the least; the trip was also not as scary as I had thought it would be, though the         high-density glacier winds and the accompanying turbulence did create the occasional flutters.

Bit by bit the plane climbed higher, bringing into view the           awe-inspiring peaks, the imposing glaciers, the dramatic valleys and the impressive slopes. From time to time the tiny aircraft flew very close to the enormous snow-capped walls, intimidating me to a great extent.

Eventually we reached Lukla, a small town at nine thousand feet in the Khumbu regions of Nepal. Coming out of the prehistoric and frosty Tenzing- Hillary altiport, we took a taxi to the main market where she shepherded me into an impoverished and dark shopping complex. Asking me to sit on an antiquated chair that was lying pooped to the left of the entrance, she walked briskly towards the wooden counter and the man behind it. Seeing her, he hopped to the feet with folded hands. She gave him an imperial nod, a nod hitherto unfamiliar to me and commenced the instructions with occasional gesticulations. At one point she waved towards me and said something in a solemn manner, and I watched in apprehension the man charging towards me with a determined expression on the face. Upon his arrival he somersaulted in an ungraceful and shameful manner to touch my feet. Taken aback and completely at a loss, I sat there with a silly smile on the face. A scene from an old Hindi movie flashed through my mind and without any further ceremony or egg-on I placed the trembling hands on his bald and shining head. There was laughter and merriment around the counter.

In about sixty minutes we were on a muddy road that was a cross between a lane and a footpath, with her behind the wheel of a bouncy but good looking Jaguar Land Rover.

Two men of some unknown pedigree were in the back seat, blabbering in some primitive and poppycock language. The men, the car, the grocery, the stationery and the medicines in the dickey were the courtesy of the bald and shining man. The two knapsacks we had brought with us were in the trunk as well.

We drove uphill through thick crag forests of massive trees with cracking strips of bark and trembling leaves. I tightened the skin hide jacket and adjusted the wind wrap as the frosty wind hovered around, howling maliciously. Here and there massive snow covered boulders emerged eerily from the earth like some subterranean monsters coming up for air. The unpaved lane was extremely slippery with hideously viscous mud, and I held my breath as she coolly negotiated a sharp turn at hair-raising speed.

By late afternoon we were out of the forest, racing towards the lip of the mountain and some spine-tingling moments. Though she seemed an expert mountain-driver and was casting occasional glances of self-belief at me, the sight of the edge, a few centimeters from the automobile gave me the shivers, especially on hairpin curves where I could clearly see the free-fall.

As we climbed higher, the jittery monsoon clouds began racing towards us from the right and the fog felt obliged to attack us  from above, obscuring the ‘mind- boggling and inconceivable mountain scenery’ she had promised. The two men, with constant prattle contributed their bit to the gloom. Straining the hazel eyes through the yellow beam, she maneuvered the car to a height of eleven thousand feet where we found a muddled       tea-house in a small hamlet.

There she gave me a ration of whiskey in boiling water, and after a hot and sumptuous meal of rice and dal with two green chilies as special dish, I felt better. We slept that night with twenty other homo sapiens in a medium-sized hall.

The next day was clearer and we could see barren landslides and jaded fields with grazing yaks and donkeys. At one point she stopped the car to point out a vast expanse of flat ice. “A frozen river,” she remarked. As we climbed, she pointed out the exotic fauna, mainly birds and monkeys and the colorful flora. Around a hairpin turn a tree had fallen across and was taking a nap, oblivious to the freezing surroundings. Yanking the rear door, the two men jumped out providing a golden opportunity to the glacial wind to molest me further. Carrying the sleeping tree to one side, they placed it down gently, whispering in its ears to sleep comfortably.

As we climbed higher, she nodded towards the opposite ranges where I saw small houses and hamlets tucked away at precarious and impossible angles.

“Where is Mount Everest, or have we taken a wrong turn?” I asked.

She laughed; for reasons known only to them the two specimens also laughed, and not wanting to be left out I too joined in the madness before repeating the question, “So, where is Mount Everest?”

“We have been driving through it for the past several hours; you are deep in its burrows,” she said.

“Do people live on Mount Everest?” I asked.

She nodded, “Yeah, there are people living in small villages at elevations up to about 14000 feet.”

As the car continued its monkey ways I found it difficult to breathe, and felt as if my entire body would collapse under its weight. Oxygen had become a rare commodity and I was gasping like a salmon out of water. I should have known that high altitude journey could not only zap my energy but also mess with some of my body’s normal functions, in addition to making the various body parts feel weird. Too late!

The gasping and wheezing became heavier.

 Turning to me with concern on her adorable face, she parked the car to the left before moving sideways towards me. Pulling down my jacket’s zip slightly, she rubbed my chest and tried her best to cheer me with her looks and shawl.

 I saw visions of heaven, where pink coloured angels, attired in white nighties were moving around in a purposeful and orderly manner, with Jesus sitting benignly in the center, sipping hot filter coffee.

Without bothering to linger on any further my spirit left the body and flew towards Kochi, on the shores of the Arabian Sea where it all had begun nine days ago.

The final bell had gone and the boat was about to head off. Reaching the wharf in a few strides I jumped over the plank and took a window seat. There were some thirty commuters, most of them belonging to the nine to five clan.

 Turning towards the harbour on the left, I looked at the red and white cargo ship as it gave out a booming blast to signal its departure. ‘Spices, coconut or canned fish to some foreign country’, I thought.

As I watched the gigantic ship spinning around leisurely out of the harbour into the vast expanse of the Arabian Sea, our boat took a sharp right turn and headed in the opposite direction towards Vypin, a small island not many nautical kilometers from Kochi. All around, the sea was fairly smooth and motionless. Occasionally a fish or two broke the surface to take in a touch of oxygen. Hacking the Arabian waters ruthlessly, the boat sped past the Baulgatty Palace as Marine Drive faded away slowly behind us.

I took out the newspaper from the battered attaché and re-read the news-‘The Mercedes Benz that was presented by Adolph Hitler to the former Nepal monarch, Tribhuvan Bir Bikram Shah Dev will be on display at the Narayanhiti Palace, Kathmandu.’

                                                                                                       NNA, Dec 21, 2011

Leaning back against the rough and tough seat, I locked my hands behind the head. I looked towards the right shore and watched a short, semi-nude man climbing a tall coconut tree, and wondered why the good God hadn’t kept the coconuts down. That would have been a nice gesture. As arguing with the Almighty was a pointless exercise, I closed the eyes before switching on the flat screen at the back of the brain. The image emerged in a very slow motion and soon filled the entire screen. Hitler’s car… the 1939 silver metallic Mercedes Benz which the German dictator had presented to King Tribhuvan in nineteen forty… the one I had seen, touched and even sat in. That was long ago- almost twenty-two years.

As the salty, marine breeze ruffled my hair, the mind, without bothering to obtain any consent fluttered and took wings to reach Kathmandu, cuddled up inside the snow-capped Himalayas. The year was nineteen eighty nine.

My father was a missionary priest of the Malabar Mar Thoma Syrian Christian Church of Kerala, serving in Kathmandu at that time. The church, with our residential quarters was at Putali Sadak, a busy street between Singha Durbar, the Nepal parliament and Narayanhiti palace, the abode of the then monarch of Nepal, His Majesty King Birendra Bir Bikram Shah Dev. I was then, a student at The Tribhuvan University and it was here I had met her.

It was my third day at the university and I was still in the initiation stages. I had come early and was at the canteen, sipping the sizzling Chinese beverage, and looking around at the bunch of Tibetan and Nepali students, when I saw a pretty girl in blue jeans and white top coming towards me. She looked disarmingly immaculate, and had an eye-catching and mischievous smile on the round face. I noticed the three lines formed at the corners of the eyes during the smile. Pulling a crimson plastic chair towards her, she sat across. For a second I thought that she was going to make a pass at me and wondered how to react in such an eventuality.

Was I nervous? Of course I was, but soon my nerves melted away to curious excitement.

“So, you are the new alien student!” she said in an enchanting tone.

 “Hey,” I didn’t know what else to say.

“I am Nalini.”

“Alexei Thomas,” I said unceremoniously.

“Alexei? Are you Russian?” she asked in a serious note.

“No; Indian,” I said with all the dignity I could muster.

“Oh, I understand,” she said sympathetically, “Half Russian, half Indian.”

I gave her a nasty look.

“Okay, okay, no need to irritate your ulcer; I was just kidding. Which part of India?” she asked.

“Kerala,” I was still un- mollified.

She gave a low whistle before saying, “Hmmm! The southern state on the western coast of India…. the land of coconuts, spices and, of course elephants.”

I couldn’t resist, “Are you trying to make an impression?”

The sarcasm was lost on her as she continued, “Before India’s independence in 1947, Kerala consisted of many small kingdoms, primarily the states of Travancore, Cochin and Malabar. Trivandrum is the present capital and Cochin, the principal city.”

“What else do you know about Kerala?” I was curious.

“A lot,” with that she got up and left, but not before giving me a mischievous wink.

She was the daughter of a colonel in the Royal Nepalese Army. The colonel was from an affluent and powerful Rana family who were closely related to the Shah dynasty through marriage. He had his military training in India before joining the Royal Nepalese Army in nineteen fifty nine as a second lieutenant. Around that time, preparations were on for the departure of the fourteen year old crown prince, Birendra to Eton College for higher studies. The father of the crown prince, King Mahendra, after deliberations, appointed the young lieutenant as security attaché, in charge of the prince’s security in England. That he was a kin contributed its bit to the monarch’s decision. When the crown prince completed his education in nineteen sixty four, the lieutenant accompanied him back to Nepal. On his arrival he was promoted as a major and placed as the second- in- command of the king’s covert garrison. When Birendra became the monarch in nineteen seventy two he chose the major as his ADC and made him a colonel. By nineteen eighty nine, apart from being the ADC to His Majesty, the colonel had also become the commandant of the king’s garrison and one of the most powerful officials of the palace.