Police personnel fire tear gas to control the mob during the anti-government protests in Kathmandu on September 9.
PIC: PTI, IMAGING: DEEPAK HARICHANDAN
I had been planning a trip to Kailash Mansarovar for a little over a year. I was told the best route was via Kathmandu. There are other options — via the Nathu La Pass in Sikkim and Lipulekh Pass in Pithoragarh district of Uttarakhand — but I chose the Nepal route so I could visit a few popular spots before beginning my journey toward Kailash. Finally, the day arrived, and as planned I began my journey on Ganesh Chaturthi.
When I first landed at the Tribhuvan International Airport in Kathmandu on August 28 evening, the city seemed warm and welcoming. My plan was to visit a few places in the city the next day before moving onward to Kailash. It was my maiden trip to Kailash and I was thrilled. I was accompanied by at least 100 people from across the country, all of whom had booked the same tour guide.
As per my itinerary, I had one day in Kathmandu and 10 days in Kailash. We were scheduled to return to Kathmandu on September 8 and fly back to Bengaluru on September 10.
I had a quick visit to the Pashupatinath temple as it is a common practice to visit the temple before beginning the Kailash Mansarovar yatra. I was hoping to spend more time at the temple but was told that I would have plenty of time to do so after returning from Kailash. I had no inkling of the events that would unfold on our return.
Re-entering the city
Our trip to Kailash went as planned. Though the Parikrama (circumambulation around Mount Kailash) was challenging due to the high altitude, rough terrain, and extreme weather, we completed it successfully. Exactly 10 days later, on September 8, we re-entered Kathmandu. When we were about two hours away from the city, we stopped for a tea break. It was late evening when we got back into our bus. The driver and his helpers seemed stressed. They instructed us to close the windows and warned us that the rest of the journey would be difficult. They explained they would be taking a different route than planned as the roads were unsafe.
We were confused. We looked at each other for answers. A news alert on our phones told us that a curfew had been imposed due to the ‘Gen Z protests’ in Kathmandu. The city’s youth were protesting against the corrupt government and the situation had escalated quickly. Police were accused of opening fire on the crowds and killing 19 in retaliation. Social media posts screamed ‘murder’.
Looking out of the bus, I could see nothing but darkness. But as we neared the city, some of the passengers started shouting in panic. They had spotted some torched vehicles, and shattered glass was strewn across the road. I saw a huge crowd in front of a poorly lit hospital.
It had been a long day. Tibet is 2.5 hours ahead of Nepal, and we had started our day at 6 am Tibet time. We were scheduled to reach Kathmandu by 6 pm, but by the time we made it to our hotel in the city centre, it was 10 pm. The new route, it turned out, had no roads to speak of. It took a considerable amount of time for me to process the situation I found myself in. I longed to be in bed, comfortably asleep, but it seemed elusive.
Though I was aware of the gravity of the situation and I knew more protests were expected the following day, nothing prepared me for what I witnessed. It was loud, chaotic and disastrous. I saw buildings on fire, police firing tear gas and I heard gun shots throughout the day. My flight from Kathmandu to New Delhi was the next day and I wondered if I would be able to make it to the airport. But we got news that the airport was completely shut down. It dawned on me that we were stranded in Kathmandu indefinitely.
Later that day, when I decided to step out, it felt strange and ominous. I wanted to know what was happening outside. Periods of eerie silence were punctuated by the sound of flying helicopters. While walking down the Kamaladi road, a central location, I saw a building engulfed in fire. But I returned to the hotel within a few minutes as locals advised me not to venture further. When I got back to the hotel, one of the guests called me to the terrace. We saw the Hilton Kathmandu in flames. It was just 1 km from where I was staying. Later, from the sixth floor, we saw protestors near our hotel entrance. Hundreds of them had gathered and were attempting to set a nearby building on fire. Both men and women were in equal numbers and they carried whatever they could — lathi sticks, flags and even rifles.
While some of the guests tried to shoot videos and pictures, others were terrified. At our hotel, security was tightened. The hotel staff barred all 100-plus guests from going outside and locked the main gate. Luckily, the kitchen was stocked with all provisions required to keep us well fed. The staff had no choice but to spend the night in the hotel.
I struck up a conversation with some of the members of staff. They were shocked by the situation that had unfolded. “I never expected this to happen to my city,” one of them told me. Corruption has been an issue for a long time, they shared. While the protestors had the right intentions, to rid the country of corruption, others had taken advantage of the situation to loot whatever they could, they pointed out.
Smoke and destruction
From our windows, all we could see was plumes of smoke, crowds fleeing and people shouting. We would also hear loud blasts every now and then.
In the meantime, a friend who had accompanied me found herself in a difficult situation. Her periods had arrived early. The hotel staff handed her two sanitary pads. They could not provide her with more. Desperate, we tried to leave the hotel premises in search of a pharmacy. But we were sternly asked by the security guard to return to the safety of the hotel. My friend was quite disturbed. She was prepared to make do with the wads of tissue paper we had brought with us for our trip. But luckily another female guest had some pads and offered it to my friend.
I was moved by the hospitality and care shown by two women from the housekeeping staff. One of them took the effort to reassure us whenever possible that the situation would get better.
We learnt that many tourists were stuck in hotels where provisions were scarce.
Shopping and prayer
Despite the chaos, guests thronged a small shop inside the hotel. It sold T-shirts, keychains, rudrakshas and various accessories. They were excited by the prospect of shopping. And I was no exception. The shopkeeper never expected such sales. Now, the rudrakshas had become more expensive as they were in demand by the guests. He could not get more because of the curfew.
We could not help but discuss the events unfolding outside. The guests, at least 120 of us, would meet three times a day at the hotel’s restaurant — for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Often, we would end up gathering near the reception area to discuss the situation and the next course of action.
One of the guests fell sick and had to be taken to a local hospital. Luckily, it was on the night of September 10 when the situation was improving. We don’t know the reason for her sickness. Perhaps it was due to the stress and fear. Later, I was told she was fine and recovering.
Deserted roads
We had spent three days inside the hotel. On the fourth day, many of the guests began feeling restless. They wanted to step out though it was risky. Nepal’s Prime Minister K P Sharma Oli had resigned and the army had taken charge of security. There was a curfew between 10 am and
5 pm on September 11. Curious, we stepped out to take a look at the condition of the streets. They were deserted. My friend and I managed to walk about 1 km. We passed scorched buildings, with smoke still rising from a few.
We then decided to visit the Pashupatinath temple, about 3-4 km away from the hotel. Sceptical of walking the distance on the deserted roads, we managed to board a taxi. Of course, the fare was exorbitant for a 2-km distance.
What would have been a short and quick journey was interrupted at least five times by army personnel. The driver tried his best to take a different route but he could not succeed, so we returned to the hotel. Later, we learnt that the army thwarted an attempt by some miscreants to vandalise the Pashupatinath temple.
After 5 pm, when the curfew was lifted just for two hours, we hired the same taxi to visit the famous Jal Narayan Temple, also known as Budhanilkantha Temple. The streets had returned to normal. People had come out to buy essentials — food, groceries, medicines.
Exorbitant air tickets
Meanwhile, the airport had reopened. We rushed to book tickets for the following evening, five days after we had arrived in Kathmandu. On hearing the news, there was a frenzy. Tourists eager to return home wanted to get on the earliest flight. Some even paid Rs 65,000 for a flight to Chennai. Others booked business class tickets out of desperation. With increased demand, air ticket prices skyrocketed. Some decided to wait for a few more days for lower fares. Luckily, all I had to pay was just Rs 5,000-Rs 7,000 more than the regular fare.
The next day, after showing our flight tickets to army personnel, we were allowed to travel to the airport. As expected, it was unusually busy. We had to make it through an extremely long check-in queue. I ended up chatting with a passenger seated next to me at the boarding gate. Some miscreants had set the hotel he was staying at on fire. He panicked, picked up his passport and money and ran out of the building. He managed to reach another hotel where his friend was staying and two days later, he was returning home to the UK. He had come to Nepal for a holiday, but it had ended in misery and stress.