Twenty Years in the Himalaya/Nepal and Sikhim
All who take interest in things Himalayan must have at times had their curiosity whetted by the long narrow stretch of the great main Himalayan range included in the kingdom of Nepal, known and yet unknown; marching with our own dominion for no less than 500 miles; carrying on an extensive trade with us, and supplying us with 25,000 Goorkha soldiers, and yet, with the exception of the one main road to the capital at Khatmandu, quite unexplored by the European. Nor is it realised, even in India, how highly organised and well governed this State is, though it still remains a relic of what may be termed ancient civilisation, with modern improvements grafted on to it. Of a truth the land is full of contradictions — an ancient orthodox Hinduism, observed in the strictest manner, side by side with electric light installation set up by Nepalese engineers; a practically modern system of sanitation in the near towns with an excellent water-supply, next door to the crudest illustrations, very much of the Tantric Department of the Hindu religion, adorning the walls of the houses in public thoroughfares; prison laws and a treatment of criminals often in front of anything we can attain to in Europe, coupled with severe punishment for the slaughter of kine. In fact, a country full of contradictions, and the last country of romance in all our Indian possessions — long may it remain so.
I have no hesitation in saying that my one short trip to Nepal was more full of interest to me than any other expedition of my life. Having served for twenty-one years in a Goorkha raiment, and being familiar with a certain amount of the traditions and customs, and, to as great an extent as possible, with the geography of the country, it can be imagined with what pleasure and no less enthusiasm I received an invitation from Major Manners Smith, the Resident, to spend Christmas with him in 1907. Still, though I had seen numerous photographs, and talked with many officers. and others who had visited Nepal, I was by no means prepared for what I. saw, and further, I was by no means prepared either for the extraordinary contrast of ordinary life and manners to those of all other parts of the Indian Continent. It is a country of innumerable mixed races, all showing to a greater or less extent their Mongolian descent, and I was greatly struck not only by the air of well-being and of industry, but by the complete separation and aloofness of the people and of their surroundings. The ruling classes, who are the product of barbarian Mongol blood, mingled with the best blood in India» are generally distinguished without difficulty by their physical appearance.
The old resident in India on his journey up to Nepal is surprised and startled by being met with generally smiling faces, by being asked by little ladies seated on the wayside whether he isn’t thirsty — that is, if he is not travelling in too much state and has a sufficiently unconventional mind to smile back at all smilers.
The journey to Nepal is one of intense interest. After travelling in a succession of small-gauge railways through the deadly dull plains of Upper Bengal, annoyed at every station by the babblings of Neolithic man in the person of Bengali ryots, one arrives finally at the back of beyond — Raxaul Station — saved at the eleventh hour from what the begging letter writer has called self-self-destruction, by arrival at the real comforts of the Residency Bungalow. Raxaul is really the end of all things. It is a howling wilderness, approached by the vilest of vile roads, yet three miles off lies the great mart of Birganj; not at all Nepalese, but very Indian, in respect to its hideous squalor, which is, so to speak, illuminated here and there by the residences of the Superior Civil Service of Nepal, to wit, the Governor’s house, the local General’s, and the local officers, representing Indian Deputy Commissioners, etc.
The bazaar is large and does great business, nearly all the merchandise, of whatever size, which passes through it being forwarded to Nepal — the heavier by elephants and bullock-carts for half the distance, the remainder by man, who is the universal porter, for Nepal is almost entirely without baggage animals.
The road from this frontier mart is a very wonderful sight. A distinguished mountaineer has lately remarked that, though he recognised merits, he considered that he preferred Europeans to any Asiatic native — technical qualifications being put on one side — on account of their greater power of resisting fatigue and discomfort. I have always doubted his outlook, and since my visit to Nepal doubt it still more. The inhabitants, all small, of a Japanese build, but varying, owing to their descent, in colour and physiognomy, come down to the frontier mart to earn a living, and there earn it by the sweat of their brows.
The road from the frontier to Nepal is roughly seventy-five miles.
On my journeys to and back from Nepal I took great interest in the innumerable carriers I passed, from, I suppose, a purely athletic point of view, but I measured roughly, having large experience, many of the loads (a picture of two is shown overleaf), and found that the amount carried was often from 800 to 400 lbs. in weight.
The road to Nepal is, to say the least of it, rough. It leaves the plains at a height of about 500 feet above the sea, traversing stony river-beds, and crossing two passes of no less than 7000 feet odd, arrives in Nepal at about 4800. I wonder how many of the best carrying natives in Europe would take on that contract at 6d. per day pay. Their food is chiefly grain porridge though sometimes fish can be bought at the bazaars on the road, and they are not teetotallers, a very annoying fact to a large group of doctrinaires.
The great main thoroughfare to the prosperous State of Nepal is enough, to put it vulgarly, to make a cat laugh. It is about as bad as a road could well be, but one arrives every four miles at a most pleasant and surprising tank, with a stand-pipe for water, and an excellent drinking-pond for animals, the intervening road being merely the jungle. Then one realises that it is done of political necessity, and that although pipes are laid on, and a road could be made with the greatest facility, it is considered essential to the maintenance of political supremacy to leave things as they are. All these tanks are the gift of the late Maharani, wife of Sir Chandra Sham Sher Jang.
On the way one passes the position where General Ochterlony managed to out-manoeuvre the Goorkha General in the war of 1814-15-16. From a military point of view, it is enough to make one weep to consider the hopeless want of military activity on the part of the Goorkha commander which made a British victory possible. I am still afraid that for military success the important rule that the higher one gets the greater mental, and, to a certain extent, physical hardness is required, is not understood among the heads of the Nepalese army, excellent though it remains in many ways.
From here the road runs to Bhimphedi, the real entrance to Nepal. From Raxaul to Bhimphedi one travels merely through jungle, slowly it is true, rising at Bhimphedi to an approximate height of 2600 feet Here Indian methods of transport are quite put in the shade. My luggage, brought in on elephants, was immediately taken charge of by officials, who gave me a receipt, saying the luggage would go with me and that I was to pay in Nepal according to weight, which I did two days later without any trouble at all, although the porters had been changed on the road. This is something like organisation. I was so elated that I challenged a local porter, who was to carry my change of clothes up to the bungalow of Chissa Garhi, 2500 feet straight above, to a race. He beat me very easily, but waited for me on his arrival. When, very hot and much winded, I reached the top of the ascent, it was quite dark. I was challenged by a sentry in what seemed to me a rather curious manner. Finally he said, “Who are you?” I answered, “I am me.” Possibly it was the grammar that upset him, but he became very angry and said, “Tell me at once who you are.” I answered, “God made me like you.” He got very angry and shouted out to the commander of the guard, “Here is a man who says that God made him, and that is all he will say; what shall I do?” Upon which the whole guard-house turned out, and among them an officer, who had been warned that he was to expect me. He was much amused, and we laughed loud and long. The sentry was quite a smart youth. His photograph, which I took next day, may be seen on the opposite page.
The following day was to me the day of my life — more enjoyable and more interesting than any other that I have known, the change was so prodigious.
On my first arrival in Bombay as a very young subaltern from England, enthusiasm was tempered with doubt and discomfort. But neither of these two elements appeared here. All unconscious of what was before me, or rather my Goorkha orderly who had come with me from my regiment and myself, we climbed up a steep path to the top of the pass above Chissa Garhi. To me the wide view was gorgeous, but what impressed me even more was that we had left India altogether. Below us was a clear deep river, a real hill stream, Highland or Welsh, fringed with cottages and cultivated land, everything quite different from anything to be seen in India or the North- West Frontier Province, in the care and industry shown in its well-ordered agriculture. I felt that I had left the wilderness of Bengal for a really understanding community.
I was walking, which is not a usual practice in that country, for I am afraid the upper classes have no physical activity. I passed many Newars, merchants possibly, being carried down asleep, most of them in slung hammocks carried by two men. The rest looked with the contempt of the lazy and hopelessly impossible Eastern on a European who could demean himself so far as to walk when he could be carried. These were invariably Newars, the great trading class of Nepal, a fine race and a jovial, but bitten with that horrible idea, which came from the Indian Continent, that the greater one becomes the less one ought to do.
What chiefly struck me was the well-being of the people on the way, the excellence, compared to India, of the houses, the care for agriculture, and the finish and general comfort compared to any part of India that I have seen. I passed a morning of real bliss, and finally got to Chitlung. This village, which I afterwards realised as being a halfway stage between the real Nepal and the plains of India, was most interesting; we were more or less up in the hills; but here again the fields, with their borders all neatly trimmed, showed a knowledge of real agriculture. There was comfort and food for even me, ceremonially an outcast, whenever I wanted it. Not only that, but I gathered a number of villagers together, we ordered the local beer, and I had a good talk with them. They were very amusing and humorous and very contented; glad to see me, but quite happy with their own people.
Above Chitlung is the Chitlung Pass, roughly 7200 feet above the sea. I was met on the way by Major Manners Smith, who took me to a point some 800 feet above the pass from which the whole range of the Himalaya was seen. On my left soared my old friend of many songs sung in my regiment, no less than Dhaula Giri; and next to him Machha Puchri (the fish’s tail), another old friend by repute. Then followed point after point, unknown to me, stretching right away to the far Eastern distance, where I could make out the Gaurishankar group; but please mark this, all controversial geographers, no sign of Everest, or of Makalu, of both of which much more anon.
From the Chitlung Pass, an original and most sensibly paved road descended very steeply to Tankote. It is delightfully steep to run down, very unpleasant to be carried down, and still more unpleasant to ride down. Still it is a sensible road, or at least it would be if it were kept in good repair. But do not let us leave the top of the pass for a moment. The view of the Nepal Valley is quite unmatched: Kashmir has nothing so fine to show. Gorgeous as the Kashmir views are, notably from the Nagmarg across the Wular Lake, there is nothing so suggestive or containing such strong contrasts as the views of the Chitlung Pass overlooking the Nepal Valley. The whole range of the main Himalaya looks down on this broken-up valley, prodigiously terraced and cultivated, Chinese in character, evidently civilised in a way the Kashmiri could not imagine, and that is the dominant note of what one sees. India is left, another civilisation is reached, and a fresh train of thought and imagination set in motion.
Arrived at the bottom of the pass, another awful contrast awaited me, in the shape of a phaeton, with india-rubber tyres and waler cobs. Meanwhile, in order to get my balance again, I bathed in a hill stream. Having changed and had tea, or what is known as tea in the East — it sparkles in a glass — away we went through further scenes of immense interest, especially to the dweller in the squalid Punjab. Passing men and women smiled upon us with friendly faces, nowhere was there any trace of purdah or false shame, and on all sides industry was in evidence, the natives generally giving one the idea that they were busy about something, a very unusual experience in the East.
The ordinary old Indian cannot imagine such trim gardens, such an appearance of general finish, and such well-kept gateways and roads as are to be seen throughout Nepal, as a characteristic of ordinary Indian life. It should be understood that the Nepalese themselves, when referring to Nepal, mean the actual Nepal Valley, which comprises the plains surrounding the city of Khatmandu, in which are the ancient towns of Patan and Bhatgaon, besides several other large villages, one or two of which almost arrive at the dignity of towns.
Inhabitants of other parts of the Nepal kingdom would almost invariably, if asked where they came from, name the district in which their village is situated, the reason for this being that historically the only part of the Nepal kingdom which can lay claim to the name is the actual valley which was the home of the Newars. The owners of the valley before this were conquered by the King of Goorkha and his followers some two hundred years ago, and to this day the greater number of the present inhabitants are of the Newar race.
After six miles of a most interesting and picturesque drive, we arrived at the Residency, a modern villa, prettily built, its immediate surroundings being curiously English in character, and very pleasant to meet with. A few days later I actually shot a woodcock in the grounds.
The next day being Christmas Day, there were great festivities, and an enormous presentation of fruit, game, etc., from all parts of the Nepal Dominions arrived with the Prime Minister’s compliments. In the afternoon there was a garden party, which was honoured by the presence of the Maharajah Sir Chandra Sham Sher Jang Rana Bahadur, Hereditary Prime Minister of Nepal, several of his sons, the Commander-in-Chief, and many other notables, and we spent a most pleasant afternoon.
Nepal is nominally ruled by the Maharaj Adhiraj Prithwi Bilbikram Sah, and really by the Hereditary Prime Minister, Maharajah Sir Chandra Sham Sher, who is the son of Maharajah Bir Sham Sher, and a direct descendant of the famous Sir Jang Bahadur of Mutiny fame. The Prime Minister is assisted in governing the country by a Council or Durbar of Ministers, who are the heads of departments, with the curious exception of the Commander-in-Chief, who does not directly command the army, but has a great number of civil powers into the bargain, the real Commander-in-Chief being known as the “Jangí Lat” or “Fighting Lord,” as indeed is our own Commander-in-Chief in India.
Most of the higher officials can talk excellent English — in fact, some of them with so little accent as to make it very difficult to distinguish them from English people. They have nearly all learnt in Nepal itself, where they have an excellent English school. A surprising fact about them is that they are excellent military historians. All that is military has for the Nepalese a great attraction; in fact, the entire State seems to be run on semi-military principles, a mode of government that appears to suit the people very well. The one little mote in the eye of all this militarism is that physical exertion does not appeal to the upper classes, to the very great detriment of the actual training of their army itself. I believe, however, that an excellent example is being set in the very highest quarters, so that in a few years a different standard may be set up.
It is unfortunate that few of the upper classes have sporting tastes. None play polo, for instance, and few, if any of them, care for any form of sport, with the exception of the annual great winter tiger shoots that take place in the Nepal Terai on the Indian border. This is a curious fact, as all Goorkha soldiers in Goorkha regiments in the British service delight in all forms of sport, fishing, and shooting. Certainly most of the small game shooting in and about the Nepal Valley entails a considerable amount of hard work, either up and down hill or through deep bog and wet During my stay there we had some delightful rough days after snipe in the low lands, and peafowl, kallidge pheasant, and woodcock in the low hills round the valley, notably one at the Maharajah’s preserves at Gow Karan, a most charming tract of low, wooded hills, divided by boggy glades, which might almost have been in Wales or the Scotch borderland. A high rocketing peacock taken crossing from one hill to the next comes down a most satisfactory “wump.”
But, after all, what interested me most, and what I had been greatly looking forward to, was to see the actual Nepalese regiments in their own country. Khatmandu, Patan, and Bhatgaon have each a considerable number of troops quartered in them — especially Khatmandu, the headquarters of the army. The great parade ground at Khatmandu is probably one of the finest in the East, and is situated in the middle of the city. It has the barracks and old city on its west, the beautiful tank and clock-tower of the Kani Pohkri on its north, and the great Durbar Office or residences of nobles on its eastern side. It is large enough to allow at least a dozen battalions and half-a-dozen mountain batteries to drill on it at once. It must be a fine sight when a great ceremonial parade is held. I believe they are able to mass 80,000 troops on it, and that they are handled without confusion. I was unlucky in missing one of these great parades, which had been arranged for the visit of Mr. Hobhouse, M.P., Under Secretary of State, who was then travelling in India, but I saw what interested me a good deal more — the ordinary everyday parades and drills.
It is a curious army, probably the most remarkable of its kind in the world. It is continually being drilled in archaic manoeuvres, which, with the exception of the battalion marching movements, it always executes rather badly. But when the battalions are on the move, marching either in masses or as on the line of route, they perform very well. The men are physically excellent, though badly set up and equipped archaically, and armed with what apparently is the old Brown Bess — very old indeed, and apparently never cleaned; yet the regiments have many of them historic names, have an excellent pride in themselves, and an excellent esprit de corps; in fact, the army is an army, in my opinion, and only requires a modern standard of training and arms to be a most formidable force. It is in all senses a regular army, by which I mean an army with national ideals and a sense of responsibility.
I believe now that a few Martini rifles have been sent by the Indian Government, and that the troops are getting some much-needed musketry training. I am writing of the troops as they are, and not as I am quite sure the authorities would like them to be. Keeping up to the times in the matter of re-armament is a terrible trial, even to rich European Governments, and is quite beyond the means of a comparatively small Mountain State.
The natural military head-dress is original in its way, and consists of a cap of dark cotton material with a swathed brim, on which are laid several bands of silver lace, with a plaque of silver in front stamped with the badge of each regiment. This head-dress is called a chāp tōra and differs in value according to the rank of the wearer, those of the higher ranks being mounted with gold, as may be seen in the illustration facing page 6. This head-dress would be a dreadful handicap in war, as it flashes in the sun and would render the movement of even very small bodies of troops visible from an enormous distance.
I believe I am correct in saying that the Newar race, the original owners of the Nepal Valley, are not enlisted in the combatant ranks of the army, or at least not in any numbers. This seems strange, as they fought splendidly and for long against the Goorkha kings, and for a great number of years quite held their own against all comers. They are the main representatives of the industrial part of the country. All the wonderful temples, brass work, and carving as seen in the big towns are due to them. Their houses are easily distinguished from the Goorkha houses, by their superior character. Further, Newars have always preferred to live in towns and villages. One very seldom sees Newar houses scattered about as is the case with the Goorkha houses. They are also now the great merchants of the country, most of the trade being in their hands.
I spent several days in being taken round the three great cities, Khatmandu, Patan, and Bhatgaon, in which are situated most of the old temples and palaces of the Newar kings. Few Nepalese recognise the name Khatmandu as the capital of Nepal: Khatmandu or Khāt Manru (the wooden temple) was one of the oldest Newar temples and gave its name to the town that grew up round it. The capital of the country is simply known as Nepal and nothing else, as I have before stated. What may be called the ecclesiastical architecture shows distinct Chinese influence; in fact, I only 3a w two temples purely Hindu in the character of their architecture, namely, the temple of Narayan and that of Bhimsen in Patan.
Bhatgaon and Patan are a mass of temples. But the most striking object to me was the great brass gateway of the old palace in Bhatgaon, of which the illustrations opposite will give some idea. The doorway is of bronze, and the exterior ornamentation of beaten and cast brass. Opposite the gateway, on a pedestal, is a figure, with a brass umbrella held over it, of one of the old Newar kings of Bhatgaon.
It would possibly be as well to explain here, as shortly as such a very complicated subject will allow, the racial constitution of the kingdom of Nepal.
The governing class nominally belong to the great Hindu Kshettriya caste, but all show distinct signs of Mongolian descent. Seeing that Hinduism is a non-proselytising religion, how did this arise? In old days the whole part of the Himalaya now included in the kingdom of Nepal was occupied by different races of evident Mongolian descent; some of undoubtedly high culture, who probably all belonged to the Newar races. The different Mohammedan invasions of India, and their conquests of old Rajput states, which covered different long periods of time, caused many of the conquered or irreconcilables to fly to any part where they could be safe from Mohammedan tyranny. Many came to Nepal. Then they intermarried with the hill tribes, and gave their offspring their own caste — really as a matter of self-defence, since, from an orthodox Hindu point of view, it is impossible to hand on the caste to the child of a no-caste wife.
As these fugitive Rajputs, Brahmans, etc., brought South Indian education and culture into Nepal, then probably quite barbaric, it is very easy to see how they not only very soon became the most influential people in the different Hill States in which they sought refuge, but also impressed the Hindu religion on all with whom they were brought directly in contact.
At this period Buddhism was undoubtedly the religion of the Newars of the Nepal Valley. What was the religion of the surrounding hill tribes is doubtful, though it was certainly not original Buddhism, but probably a leaven of original Buddhism mixed up with innumerable old superstitions, very much as is the case with the present Hinduism of the same people.
At the present day the inhabitants of Nepal are most mixed; though, as I said, they all show signs of Mongolian descent. But this is probably less generally seen among the upper classes, certain of whom intermarry with well-born natives of the Indian Continent.
The entire government of the country is in the hands of the Kshettriya class, to which the Maharaj Adhiraj and the Maharajah Sir Chandra Sham Sher both belong. So much is this the case, that I very much doubt (even in class regiments) whether a representative of one of the pure Mongolian tribes can rise to the rank of colonel, or is given any really responsible civil billet; not because they have not the necessary ability, but because there are not enough places for the ruling class itself, while it is also considered politically wise not to encourage them beyond a certain point The Kshettriya class are not only the governing class, but also supply the greater number of soldiers in Nepal, although other of the military clans are fully enlisted, and are even formed into class regiments, that is, regiments enlisted entirely from men of one tribe. In this connection the photograph of the Kalibahadur Regiment is worth looking at.
The inhabitants of Nepal may very roughly be classified as follows: —
(1) Brahman clans; priestly caste.
Kshettriya clans, who are the governing class.
Mongolian military clans, such as the Maggar, Gurung, Sunwar, Rai, and Limbu clans.
Numerous inferior or purely pastoral clans: such as the Rohani, Thakali, Tamang (also called Murmi or Lamas), Tamé, and others.
The menial classes: leather workers, tailors, iron workers, musicians, etc., all of whom are still included as Goorkhalis.
(2) The Newars.
(3) The different hill tribes, such as Humla Jumla people and Dhotialis in the west, who are not Goorkhalis.
(4) The low-lying jungle tribes, Tarus, etc., who live in the Nepal Terai.
(5) The Thibetan tribes of the higher mountains, classed as Nepalese subjects, such as the Sherpa Bhotias.