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  Within a few months, the movement had spread across the country like wildfire. After the restoration of multiparty democracy in Nepal, Prekshya Shah asked advocate Sunil Panta to clear her accounts at Apollo Steel. We calculated the appropriate compensation and transferred Dhirendra’s shares to my name.

  Had this people’s movement of 1990 not succeeded, I would have lost everything. And that is no exaggeration.

  Despite my estrangement from the Palace, I remained loyal to it because I could never have achieved what I had without the support of a member of the royal family.

  However, whenever I tried to restore good relations with the Palace, one or the other of staffers would block me from doing so.

  I had hoped King Birendra might inaugurate the new FNCCI headquarters. I sent an invitation to the Palace but I am not sure he even saw it. The king’s principal secretary, Pashupati Bhakta Maharjan, declined the invitation, saying, ‘The FNCCI is about to hold an election for its office-bearers. If His Majesty accepts the invitation, then it may influence the outcome in favour of one of the contending parties.’

  But I knew he was supporting one of the contending parties by not letting the king accept my invitation. That group eventually succeeded in defeating me in the election.

  I faced similar impediments while organizing a large conference on socio-economic issues. It was the first conference of its kind to be held in Nepal, and we had invited dignitaries such as the President of Pakistan and the prime minister of Thailand. It would have been appropriate for the king to inaugurate the conference. But the same group that was in opposition to me did not let that happen.

  Later, when I ran into Pashupati Bhaktajee, he told me, sardonically, ‘You faced some difficulty again, didn’t you?’

  ‘I am all right, thanks to your grace,’ I quipped.

  We had published a book called Guide to Investment in Nepal for foreign investors. It incorporated details of Nepal’s investment and revenue policies, and explored possible areas for investment. Never before had such a book been published in Nepal. We wanted the book to include in its foreword a message from the king. But his courtiers would not even allow us to present the proposal to him. ‘Do you think His Majesty’s role is to publish messages in books?’ one of them had asked me.

  This incident further demonstrated the power of the conservatives within the royal palace, and a kind of ‘silent tension’ has prevailed between me and the Palace ever since.

  1990

  There were two main reasons I took part in the people’s movement of 1990. First, the incidents I have described above had made me lose all faith in the Panchayat system. The other reason was the search for self-esteem. Talking about self-esteem, the industrial entrepreneurs in Nepal were in a pitiable condition.

  Chiran Shumsher Thapa headed the press secretariat at the royal palace. He was entrusted with overseeing the industrial and commercial sectors in Nepal, but he would only associate with his cronies. The only time we could possibly meet him was during his morning walks. ‘Meet me at 6.30 tomorrow morning at Thapathali,’ he would say. ‘You walk with me exactly from that point.’

  He would meet as many as eight people on his two-hour walk. The first he would meet outside the entrance to his house, and walk with him for fifteen to twenty minutes. At this point, the second would meet him, indicating that the appointment with the first person was over, and would get to walk with him up to the next point. It echoed the sycophancy that prevailed during the Rana regime.

  There were a few times that I met Thapa this way, waiting for him at the Thapathali corner and walking with him until he met the next person waiting at the next point. I felt mortified meeting him like that. The humiliation was unbearable. Once he asked me to meet him at Summit Hotel in Lalitpur, which was almost his headquarters. I also visited his house a few times. People would be queuing up to meet him there. I had to wait my turn, sitting on a stool.

  ‘You have such a cordial relationship with His Majesty. He always says nice things about you,’ Tara Bahadur Thapa, a general based in the royal palace, would always tell me. ‘Still, we can’t change the system. Chiran looks after industry and commerce, and we have to toe the line. Why don’t you meet Chiran and sort it out?’

  General Thapa is my wife’s relative, which was why he was so sympathetic towards me. He tried to get Chiran Shumsher to take a more positive attitude towards me but to no avail. Had I become his crony, as General Thapa hoped might happen, then I would not have had to face the problems that I did. I would have had an easy life even after the resignation of Surya Bahadurjee. Prekshya would not have been hostile towards me.

  Arjun Narsingh K.C. of the Nepali Congress encouraged me to play a more active role in the people’s movement. He had been my teacher at Saraswoti Campus. As a result of my association with him and my old family ties with Kishunjee, I got closer to the Congress party. I had very warm relationships with Girija Prasad Koirala, B.P. Koirala’s younger brother, whom I called Girijababu, and with Ganesh Man Singh, one of the founder members of the party, whom I knew as Ganesh Manjee. I openly campaigned for the people’s movement for the restoration of multiparty democracy in the country.

  At that time I had already become a vice president of the FNCCI. Mahesh Lal Pradhan was the president.

  The government of Marich Man Singh started to target industrial entrepreneurs like me after a number of us became actively involved in the people’s movement. The finance minister, Bharat Bahadur Pradhan, summoned the FNCCI office-bearers and tried to intimidate us. The minister of state for commerce, Sharad Singh Bhandari, and the assistant minister for industry, Bimal Man Singh, were also present at the meeting.

  ‘You were shaped by the Panchayat system. You were nurtured by the Panchayat system. How could you go against the system just because it involved some challenges?’ Singh reproached us. ‘This is the time to support the system, not go against it.’

  We told him to his face that this was not our business, that we wanted to work in tandem with any system that was in place. We might have our personal preferences for one ideology or other, but we were not going to make enemies in the name of politics. We were not going to go against the tide.

  He stormed out of the meeting, infuriated.

  Within a couple of days, Vijay Shah of Jawalakhel Distillery brought the news: the Marich Man government had turned against the FNCCI because of our remarks at the meeting.

  Vijay Shah was close to Sharad Singh Bhandari. Sharad Singh and Keshar Bahadur Bista would visit Vijay Shah’s house almost every day. Vijay Shah was a friend of mine too. Sharad Singh told him, ‘The prime minister is very angry with the FNCCI. If Binod Chaudhary and you don’t issue a statement condemning the people’s movement, he intends to arrest both of you under some pretext or other.’

  The matter had been discussed even at a Cabinet meeting. After Vijay Shah came with this news, Mahesh Lal and I discussed the matter and arrived at the conclusion that, come what may, we could not issue a statement condemning the people’s movement. Now that we had been ‘exposed’ as supporters of the people’s movement, it was in our interests to extend our all-out support to it.

  With the government sinking to the level of mulling the arrest of entrepreneurs like us, the people’s movement of 1990 became a decisive battle for us. We openly went against the government. We gave our full support to the Nepali Congress and the United Left Front. One day, Sharad Singh told us, ‘It’s getting hard to fight the pressure from the government to detain you, please go underground.’

  The assistant minister, the late Bimal Man, supported us at the time, being the son of a businessman himself and a very close friend of mine. He was very stubborn by nature. We stayed close until his last days. ‘Why should they go underground?’ he told Sharad Singh. ‘I’ll keep them at my house. Let’s see who can harm them there. Let them arrest my friends if they have the guts.’

  Fortunately, we never had to hide in Bimal’s house. Within a few days, democracy was
restored in Nepal.

  We got our freedom.

  At a function held at Bluestar Hotel in Kathmandu immediately after the political change of 1990, the prime minister of the interim government, Kishunjee, freely praised our family from the dais, saying, ‘Wherever I went to Bihar during my exile in India, I always found Pashupati Biscuits there. My heart used to swell with pride. I used to wonder what heights our economy might have reached had there been a few more families like the Chaudharys.’

  I was flattered to hear my family praised by an influential prime minister who had come to power after a long involvement in the democratic movement. I felt we had been adequately compensated for all the adversities we had faced at the hands of the authoritarian regime in the past.

  My relationship with Kishunjee became even stronger. He would give me unhindered access to his private rooms at Baluwatar, the official residence of the prime minister. One day, father invited him to lunch at our place. Accepting the invitation, Kishunjee told me, ‘Binod babu, come to pick me up at Baluwatar.’

  I went to fetch him. He came out of his residence with his bodyguards. Once we reached the place where my car was parked, he dismissed his guards. ‘I’m going to Lunkaran Dasjee’s house. You don’t need to come with me,’ he told them. His driver had already taken out his car by then. ‘You can rest today. I’ll go with Binod,’ he told the driver.

  I had come to his residence just to guide him to our place, but instead, he was sitting beside me in the front passenger seat of my car! I was scared to drive the prime minister in my car without his bodyguards. Sensing how I felt, Kishunjee thumped my back and said, ‘Don’t be scared, Binod babu! Nobody can hurt me. We have great things to accomplish.’

  We drove straight from Baluwatar to our house in Thamel, where he dined with us. At the dinner table, he would become serious while telling us stories of his life in exile, but then he would remember something funny and laugh heartily, making us laugh too. After dinner, I drove him back home to Baluwatar.

  Kishunjee would repeatedly tell me, ‘You have to be my economic advisor, Binod.’

  During his tenure, the minister for tourism, Nilamber Acharya, appointed me and Padam Jyoti, a member of a distinguished business group in Nepal, to the board of directors of Royal Nepal Airlines Corporation (RNAC).

  I was also part of a private sector delegation to New Delhi, to renew economic ties with India in the changed political climate. I felt that if we could meet the Indian prime minister, Chandra Shekharjee, in person, it would be a significant step in restoring economic confidence in Nepal. We contacted the Nepal embassy in New Delhi. The ambassador to India, Bindeshwori Shah, was surprised to hear our request. ‘You want an appointment with the prime minister? What are you talking about?’

  I understood that he was opposed to the idea of a commercial delegation meeting the prime minister. I then met Kishunjee over the matter. The saintly Kishunjee instantly solved our problem. It was as if he had waved a magic wand. He immediately wrote a letter to Chandra Shekharjee.

  ‘Once you reach Delhi,’ he said, giving me the letter as well as the name and telephone number of Chandra Shekarjee’s personal assistant, ‘dial this number and say you have a letter from Krishna Prasad Bhattarai and need to meet the prime minister.’

  ‘What about the embassy?’ I asked.

  ‘Forget the embassy. Go straight to Chandra Shekharjee and tell him I’ve sent you.’

  As soon as I reached Delhi, I dialled the number Kishunjee had given me. I introduced myself to Chandra Shekharjee’s personal assistant and told him what had brought me to Delhi. As soon as he heard Kishunjee’s name, he fixed up an appointment for us with the Indian prime minister. I handed Kishunjee’s letter to Chandra Shekharjee as soon as I met him.

  This was the first-ever meeting between any private sector delegation from Nepal and an Indian prime minister. Kishunjee’s affection for me and his unique modus operandi made it possible.

  Girija Babu and I

  One of my assistants came rushing breathlessly into my office. ‘Girija Babu is here. He wants to meet you.’

  I had just come to Biratnagar to take charge of operations at Pashupati Biscuits, and I was living there. At my assistant’s announcement, I ran out of my office to greet Girija Prasad Koirala. An old jeep with a canvas top was parked outside. The dust kicked up by its tyres was yet to settle.

  I walked closer to the jeep. A lean man stepped out, flanked by a handful of people.

  That was the first time I met Girija Prasad Koirala. Before that, I had only heard about him. He stepped into my office. ‘We have a good relationship with your father,’ he said. ‘When I heard that you have come here, I decided to come and meet you.’

  I could only nod.

  ‘We have been receiving a lot of support from Lunkaran Dasjee. We expect the same from you,’ Girija Babu said, revealing the real reason for his visit. ‘The time has arrived for the people’s movement. You have to support the party.’

  He left after fifteen minutes.

  After the general election in 1992, Girija Prasad Koirala became the prime minister. His party secured a clear majority. I was a close aide all through his first term in office. When it came to issues relating to industry, commerce and other aspects of the economy, he trusted me more than he did either the finance minister or the chairperson of the National Planning Commission. I do not know why he trusted me so much. We worked together on a number of issues related to economic reform. A group within the party which was, I must assume, jealous of my closeness to Girija Babu, started to lobby against me and went on to poison his ears.

  I was included as a private sector representative in the official delegation accompanying Girija Babu on his first visit to India as prime minister. Senior industrialists such as Hulas Chand Golchha, Mohan Gopal Khetan and Banbari Lal Mittal were also in the delegation, but I was the leader. Umbrella organizations from India’s business sector, such as the Federation of Indian Chambers of Commerce and Industry (FICCI), the Confederation of Indian Industries (CII) and the Associate Chambers of Commerce and Industry of India (ASSOCHAM), had organized a joint reception in honour of Girija Babu. I had taken the initiative to bring these three rival organizations together. To achieve that, I had reached out to Indian entrepreneurs whom I knew personally, well ahead of Girija Babu’s visit. Girija Babu had also entrusted me with the responsibility of drafting his speech.

  He told me, ‘I will say what I have to say from a personal perspective. However, you should prepare a draft incorporating what the private sector wants to hear.’

  I drafted a speech to the best of my ability and forwarded the draft to Dr David Abraham, a prominent American professor who was then living in Nepal. After incorporating his suggestions, I went to show the final draft to Girija Babu.

  Many of his aides were upset over his decision to let an outsider draft his speech. They had been poisoning his mind against me. He did not even so much as glance at the draft, but instead asked me to show it to one of his aides. I felt hurt. The aide read out a few lines and grimaced. ‘How can the prime minister make such a flowery speech?’ he said.

  ‘Do as you please,’ I replied and left.

  I believe this marked the beginning of the distance that developed between Girija Babu and me.

  I subsequently did accompany Girija Babu on his official visits to Israel, Finland, Egypt and Germany. He still entrusted me with preparing the list of private sector representatives to be included in the official delegation. I tended to include the younger generation of entrepreneurs, such as Pradeep Kumar Shrestha, Shashi Agrawal and Bijay Kumar Dugar. Another group of businesspersons did not like my choice of delegates. They formed another delegation with the help of my detractors in the party. As a result, the delegation now consisted of two distinct groups of entrepreneurs, each huddling together and away from the other. If Girija Babu had to discuss a matter or if he needed the views of the private sector, he would turn to me. My group was still the offi
cial representative of the private sector.

  Later on, two incidents led to increasing discomfort between Girija Babu and me. The first was the RNAC scandal and the second the investment board row, which not only hurt my self-esteem but also left me feeling humiliated.

  After these two incidents, I distanced myself from the Congress party.

  The RNAC scandal

  Kishunjee had appointed me to the board of directors of the RNAC. I was still holding that post when Girija Babu was elected prime minister for the first time in 1992.

  As a director at the RNAC, I had serious differences with Girija Babu on two issues. One of them was the sale of the RNAC’s aircraft.

  The corporation had two Boeing 727s, one brought in 1972 and the other in 1984. In 1993, the corporation decided to sell both aircraft, citing ‘a directive from the Prime Minister’. The corporation wanted to get rid of them under the pretext that the aircraft were too old. In fact, the corporation was eyeing the commission it could make from the sale. The aircraft were not in such a bad shape that they could not fly. All they needed were some basic repairs.

  I opposed the decision from day one. In my capacity as a director of the board, I conducted an independent study and handed over the recommendations in the form of a report to the corporation’s management. The corporation could have earned more than Rs 50 crore million in profit if both the aircraft plied on routes of three to four hours’ duration, such as from Kathmandu to cities like Mumbai, Kolkata, Delhi and Bangkok. However, nobody was interested in my report.

  Eventually, the corporation decided to dispose of both the aircraft for the price they would have fetched had they been scrap. If I am not mistaken, the corporation received less than Rs 11 crore million from the deal. What is more, one of the Boeings is still flying in Tanzania, which vindicates my position.