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  Though the reason remained shrouded in mystery, this report dispelled all doubt about the incident itself.

  I ordered a car to take me back to Kathmandu immediately.

  We left Nawalparasi at quarter to six in the morning. Owing to heavy rains during the night, the road was wet and slippery, so we could not drive quickly despite the urgency of the situation. We moved ahead slowly. By the time we reached Pulchowk intersection at Narayanghat, people had started to gather in groups on the road, all talking about the massacre.

  There were no vehicles on the road except a few trishaws, but the streets were filled with people. News of the royal palace massacre had already spread like wildfire.

  The further we drove towards Kathmandu, the larger the crowds we saw. There were very few vehicles coming from Kathmandu. The highway was virtually deserted. At Malekhu, just a couple of hours away from Kathmandu, we were stopped by an angry mob.

  ‘How can you be driving around when our king has died,’ a young man with sturdy arms and bloodshot eyes asked us.

  I introduced myself and said, ‘We’re hurrying back to Kathmandu precisely because of that.’

  He lowered his voice.

  ‘Brother, what’s the real story?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘All I’ve heard is that everyone in the royal family has been killed.’

  He let out a long sigh of despair and asked his friends to clear the way to let us pass.

  Local residents tried to stop us at a few other places along the highway, but I managed to negotiate our way into Kathmandu. Ordinary people were grief-stricken at what had happened to the royal family. Some of them were weeping while others were infuriated, alleging the whole thing must be a serious conspiracy.

  Kathmandu was even more chaotic. Only a few shops were open. People had gathered in large numbers on the streets, all talking about the killings. The entire city was abuzz with the news. One could sense, despite the charged atmosphere, that people still had boundless faith in and love for the royal family.

  1 June 2001 passed, plunging the entire country into despair.

  Many were the associations the people of Nepal lost that tragic day, which has gone down as Black Friday in Nepal’s recent history. Ordinary people lost their beloved king. Many grieved for Queen Aishwarya; others shed their tears for Crown Prince Dipendra or for Princess Shruti and Prince Niranjan. But few remembered another royal who also died that night: Prince Dhirendra.

  For me, that dark night marked my separation from Dhirendra.

  I had been one of the witnesses to his moment of truth.

  Neer Shah and I were in London on a business trip. Prince Dhirendra happened to be in the city at the same time, and his aide was with him too. We went to meet Dhirendra. One evening, the four of us were walking around in the city when it suddenly started to rain heavily. Dhirendra pointed to a sign at a dark corner a little down the road. It said: White Haze Bar.

  We entered the bar. An array of lights splashed across our faces.

  That was where we met Sherlie.

  Dhirendra was so attracted to her that he ordered Dom Pérignon, the most expensive champagne in the bar. It cost £150 a bottle in those days. Before one bottle was finished, Dhirendra would order another. Between nine at night and three in the morning, we had finished more than twelve bottles of Dom Pérignon.

  We became the centre of attention in that bar. Naturally, Sherlie was intrigued. She was also attracted to Dhirendra.

  Eventually, Prince Dhirendra gave up his position and royal status for his love for that lady.

  As I have mentioned earlier, he played a pivotal role in shaping my career. Had I not his support in my hour of crisis, I might still have continued life in some profession or other, but I would probably not be in a position to write this memoir.

  Prince Dhirendra was considered to be rebellious and the defiant one among the three sons of King Mahendra. He renounced the ‘prince’ title to marry Shirley. He was the dearest to me. He would stand by a person he liked until the end. He would tell me time and again, ‘I don’t care what they do to me, but I am always ready to lay down my life for my elder brother.’ His elder brother was, of course, King Birendra. Even after relinquishing his royal status and setting in London, I never felt Dhirendra’s trust and love for his brother ever wavered.

  I met him once more in London. He used to live just outside the downtown area. I got in touch with him and we spent a day together.

  What I can infer from my formal and informal interactions with Dhirendra is that he was actively involved as a contact person for the king during both the Panchayat era and the years of the Maoist insurgency. During the Panchayat era, he believed the king should establish a dialogue with the political parties. Because of that belief, he acted as a facilitator between the king and the party leaders. A group within the Palace never forgave him for that, and eventually that same group was instrumental in driving him away.

  He had already lost his royal status when he was working to establish contact between the Palace and the Maoists during the insurgency. This gave him the space to maintain continuous contact with the Maoists. He was able to move around more freely. I have seen him visit some dangerous places without a single bodyguard. He visited many parts of the country and even travelled abroad to meet politicians at all levels. By maintaining a low profile, he managed to escape attention.

  His initiatives could have brought about something positive . . . if only the royal palace massacre had not taken place.

  Gyanendra and the 1 February royal takeover

  My relationship with the former King Gyanendra—even when he was Prince Gyanendra—was limited to formalities.

  Some of my good friends were close to him. They used to tell me about his likes and dislikes, including his view of me. Once General Tara Bahadur Thapa told me that he had said to Gyanendra, ‘Your Highness, you should have more dealings with Binod Chaudhary. He’s a very useful person.’

  Gyanendra had replied, ‘Yes, I know him. He’s a completely ruthless and shrewd businessman.’

  In my opinion, to be called shrewd is a compliment for a businessman. Shrewdness can be viewed both positively and negatively. At times, circumstances compel a businessman to take ruthless decisions. A businessman has to make decisions with his head more often than with his heart and has to be ruthless if a situation demands it. A business house can be ruthless in its dealings with its competition while at the same time doing good for the greater society. Sometimes, you have to be ruthless even to yourself to achieve a positive outcome.

  Even though there was no partnership between Gyanendra and me, nonetheless, I welcomed his move to assume full control of the state on 1 February 2005. I was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  I had hosted a small reception at my place to bid farewell to a foreign ambassador. Close friends and colleagues had been invited. The atmosphere at the gathering changed after we heard King Gyanendra’s address to the nation broadcast on television. Some of my guests said the king had done the right thing. Most of them concluded that it was a welcome development in that it would bring a degree of ‘stability’ to the nation and that politicians should ‘learn a lesson’ from it. Owing to their constant wrangling, the political parties had not just failed to form a stable government but had also failed to solve the Maoist problem. We saw a faint ray of hope in the king’s declaration that he would at least try to do something for the country. We hoped that, besides addressing the festering political crisis, his efforts would also give impetus to the sluggish economy.

  As a businessperson, I have closely followed developments in the economies of South East Asia. I was hopeful that Gyanendra, through his active, hands-on rule, might bring about socio-economic and political transformation in the country much as Mahathir Mohamad had done in Malaysia and Lee Kuan Yew in Singapore.

  Some of my friends who were close to him would tell me, ‘Gyanendra understands how the world works. He will be able to lead
the country in the direction it should go.’

  Gyanendra was also a successful businessman himself. His Soaltee hotel was among the best in the country. Surya Tobacco, Bhotekoshi hydropower project, Telco and Spripadi were some of the other high-profile companies with which he was associated. These companies were not free from controversy, however. His detractors said that Gyanendra had harassed the previous Telco agent U.G. Jain so badly in order to get the agency for himself that Jain had to leave Nepal. He has also been accused of ruining the profitable state-run Janakpur Cigarette Factory so that he could launch Surya Nepal as a joint venture with the ITC.

  I do not take such controversies very seriously. To a certain extent, politics and business are like warfare. We choose our weapons and our tactics to match those of our competitors. Nobody is going to sympathize with the losers here. Only the winners count. As a businessman, Gyanendra did what he had to do. We thought that if he could demonstrate similar capabilities on the political front, he would be able to silence his detractors.

  We discussed the possible strategies Gyanendra might use until late into that night.

  ‘Binod, I hear the relationship between you and Gyanendra is strained. I hope it won’t affect you,’ a friend of mine said. His remark made me suddenly feel unsettled.

  Every negative situation I had weathered between 1980 and 1990 began to run through my head. To what extent had Gyanendra been involved in the efforts of certain people in the Palace to undermine me during those years? I felt more and more uneasy. Now I did not have Dhirendra to support me; Kishunjee was not in a position to help me either. I then thought about my reputation, not just at the national level but internationally as well. This boosted my confidence somewhat. Nobody at the helm of power could mete out injustice to a person of my stature. I convinced myself and my friends of this: ‘As a clever political player with a big vision and, now, huge responsibilities, surely he wouldn’t waste his time on petty quarrels and personal vendettas.’

  My friends were convinced.

  I was convinced too. .

  We all know the fallout of Gyanendra’s direct rule.

  6

  World Leaders and I

  I am an extrovert by nature, and a forward-thinking person, perhaps the reason I have always been ahead of my times. These qualities also lay behind my leadership of the FNCCI as its president at a young age. The federation provides its members with a platform to establish direct links with business leaders across the world. However, not everyone knows how to use a platform like that as a launch pad to the global business stage. They eventually get stuck on the platform itself.

  Among the sweeping reforms carried out at the FNCCI under my leadership, one was to provide for direct participation of the private sector in policy-making bodies. This was done through the Economic Liberalization Project assisted by the USAID. At the same time, I also wanted to expand the linkages and international exposure of the FNCCI. I was sure it could never fully exploit business opportunities by limiting its association to the Punjab and Haryana Chambers of Commerce and Industry! Here, I was also fortunate in that the country was transformed into a multiparty democracy and had embraced economic liberalization just as I took over the reins at the FNCCI. I was the vice president of the FNCCI when Krishna Prasad Bhattarai headed the interim government following the restoration of democracy in the country in 1990. Bhattarai even offered me a position as his economic advisor. He brought me on the board of directors of key public enterprises such as the RNAC and the Nepal Electricity Authority.

  When Girija Prasad Koirala took over, I enjoyed a relationship of mutual respect with him too. I was part of Koirala’s delegation during his first official visit to India. I was the keynote speaker from our side during a reception jointly organized by the CII and the ASSOCHAM in Koirala’s honour. I worked on expanding the FNCCI’s relations with these associations in India. During Deputy Prime Minister Madhav Kumar Nepal’s visit to India, I signed a partnership agreement with the CII. The FNCCI suddenly broke out of its shell and woke up to the possibilities of global engagement. In this context, I could also expand my own business linkages and explore opportunities across the world.

  At the age of just thirty-six, I found myself interacting with not just leading businessmen in the region and beyond, but also with top political leaders, economists and philanthropists. It has been my destiny to interact with people who are usually one generation senior to me. From the day I stepped into the world of business, I had to mix with my father’s contemporaries.

  I became a founding member of the South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation (SAARC) Chamber of Commerce and Industry, which was established almost at the same time as SAARC itself. As a founding member, I was part of the drive to develop the SAARC Chamber into a catalyst for regional economic integration, with a view to creating a South Asian economic union modelled on ASEAN and the European Union. We established the first secretariat of the SAARC Chamber in Islamabad. Two schools of thought emerged in the process of creating these outfits. The representatives of the bigger member states wanted to put more emphasis on opening up markets for themselves throughout the region, while we from the smaller member states wanted some kind of support or preferential arrangement before fully opening up our markets for free trade. What is the advantage of an economic union that benefits only the bigger parties? Moreover, the markets in some of the world’s smallest and poorest countries were already quite open for a big player like India. Due to these differences, the entire SAARC Chamber and, as a matter of fact, the entire SAARC process, remained a non-starter. However, we again see a flicker of hope for the economic integration of South Asia since Narendra Modi became prime minister of India, as we did during the short stint of I.K. Gujral as India’s prime minister.

  I did not find my experience with SAARC very encouraging, but our partnership with the CII led me to the World Economic Forum (WEF). When the CII invited me to the WEF Summit in India, I got the opportunity to closely interact with people such as Professor Klaus Schwab, who had founded the WEF, and Dr Collect Mathur. The WEF leaders were quite impressed with my vision and my eagerness to take Nepal’s business to the world. Within a few weeks of the summit, they nominated me to the coveted list of Global Leaders for Tomorrow. Benazir Bhutto of Pakistan and Salman Khurshid of India were among those nominated to the list. There has been no looking back since then. I have been invited to all the Davos functions and activities since that first summit I attended in 1986. Over the years, my relationship with the FNCCI and the CII has become even more solid. I convinced the CII to set up an office at the FNCCI. By 1996, when Nepal and India were reviewing their trade treaty, the CII was actually lobbying for us in Delhi.

  To sum up, the initiatives I took while with the FNCCI and, later, the CNI that I founded, took those bodies, and in the process my own professional network, to new heights in terms of linkages, exposure and opportunities. This period also saw me coming into contact and, in some cases, developing personal relationships with many of the world leaders, which, in turn, shaped me into an emerging global leader.

  Hussain Muhammad Ershad

  Hussain Muhammad Ershad came to Nepal in an official capacity. My Bangladeshi friend Mintoo urged him to visit me at my place in Kathmandu, and Ershad readily agreed. Mintoo had told him I was a good friend of Bangladesh. As a result, Ershad did not think twice about visiting my house even though we were not acquainted at all. This speaks volumes about his humility. Let us not forget that we are talking about the same inspirational leader who, as President of Bangladesh, played a major role in transforming that country’s economy by developing infrastructure and creating a basic institutional framework of governance. He is probably the most revered leader in Bangladesh since Sheikh Mujibur Rahman.

  During our conversation, Ershad not only shared his vision for South Asia but also told me about his one-on-one talks with other leaders in the region, including King Birendra. He told me that he and Birendra had played a crucial
role in establishing SAARC. Ershad has always strived to create synergy among the countries of South Asia to transform the region for the benefit of the third of humanity that lives here.

  He even told me that he and a few like-minded regional leaders had actually mooted the SAARC process so as ‘to work around India as a group, rather than as each country separately’.

  From that day on, I became a great admirer of Ershad’s. We soon became close friends, so close that he would free himself from his official engagements as soon as possible and take me out with him to dinner to meet important people from different walks of life. I admire him not just for his humility or his marvellous vision for South Asia but also for his disciplined manner, his simple way of dressing and the ease with which he carries himself. He is simply a great human being. He does not work by design; he does not do anything for personal gain. He is also a great disciplinarian.

  I recall an incident that shows what a marvellous human being Ershad is. Once, when I invited him to attend an economic summit I was organizing in Nepal, I also invited him to my place for lunch. He was very busy with the summit as well as with other meetings. Still, he turned up. He not only came to lunch but brought a set of jewellery as a gift for Lily. We later found out that despite the demands on his time, he had personally gone to a jewellery shop at the Soaltee where he was staying and bought the set from there. What etiquette, what thoughtfulness! He always goes the extra mile in any relationship.

  However, as expected, many of my detractors here in Nepal and elsewhere have spread rumours over the years that I have been cultivating Ershad because of some vested interests.

  Notwithstanding all this, he and I have become like family to each other. In fact, I call him dada—‘elder brother’. Even today, he will immediately drop everything to give time to me, should I need it. Would a statesman of Ershad’s stature and integrity become close friends with me had I tried to cash in on my relationship with him? I have never tried to exploit this relationship for any interests of my own. Pure mutual admiration is the basis of our relationship. Ershad is among the three close friends I have in Bangladesh. The other two are Mahbubur Rahman, chairperson of National Bank, and Abdul Awal Mintoo, whom I have mentioned earlier, a noted entrepreneur and a director of the same bank. So I had good connections in Bangladesh even before I met Ershad.