Kathmandu, June 4
I flew into this Nepalese capital hoping to see a city overwhelmed with grief. Instead I walked into crowded streets seething with fury and erupting into violence.

I literally walked for a full 8 km, from the Chinese-built Tribhuvan international airport to the Ambassador hotel close to the Narayan Hity Palace, where Nepal added a blood-splattered chapter to its history on Friday night.

I had to trudge the entire distance after arriving in a near-empty Indian Airlines Boeing because there were no vehicles to transport us into the capital although this is the peak of the tourist season.

All the taxi drivers, we were told, had joined the mass of mourners who have taken to the streets of Kathmandu to denounce the gory killing of King Birendra, Queen Aishwarya and six other family members.

The mourners, angry and screaming slogans, were everywhere. On each street, at all junctions, outside shuttered shops, and on balconies of houses on both sides of the roads. We walked over slopes and dirt tracks, cutting through lanes and bylanes.

There was tension and anger in the air. You could feel it.

Parts of Kathmandu looked like they were in the midst of a battle. As we walked, my luggage carried by a college student, men and women kept advising us on the route we should take.

“There is trouble in the next road, take this shortcut,” said one man. Another asked us avoid a junction because the police were tear-gassing young mourners pelting them with stones.

Some said one person had been killed. Others insisted the number was four.

As I walked in searing humidity, it was crystal clear that King Birendra and his queen were indeed a popular and highly-respected couple. Their framed photographs were kept on wooden tables in the middle of some streets. Men and women, some with tears in their eyes, faced them with their hands folded. Some lighted incense sticks. Some photos were garlanded.

“They were our gods,” explained the college student, Lakshman Prasad Ghimire. “We are angry with the government and the new king Gyanendra for concealing the facts about the massacre.”

I passed by the well-known Pashupatinath temple and the nearby ground where the royals were cremated on Saturday. Both appeared deserted. There were no vehicles on the streets either.

Along the way, we came across groups of riot police keeping an uneasy eye on crowds. There were also grim-looking army soldiers.

One policeman shouted: “You better run because a curfew is going to be imposed within 15 minutes.”

As we finally neared the hotel, exhausted and tired, soldiers in battle fatigues stopped us. We were told to take a different route.

One officer said in English: “I am sorry I cannot help you. This area is sealed. You have to take another route to reach the hotel.” That added another one-and-a-half km.

As we were about to enter the hotel, we saw more policemen. Suddenly, they hit some onlookers with canes. It was a scene, we were told, that was being enacted in all the streets.