Tom Robertson

original

674x448

610x380

500x500

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

1250x600

1084x550

Centennial of hunting diplomacy in Nepal

<figure><img width="613" height="852" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce6b69c7e80680e096780jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Born on the trail en route to meet the Queen and Prince Philip, Thukten Phillip Sherpa was named by the Duke, who appointed himself godfather of the 5-day-old boy. </figcaption></figure>The Sherpa leader and guardian of the yeti scalp, Konjo Chumbi, and his young wife were hurrying down from Khumjung on the Sagarmatha trail for an audience with <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8301#.YITrS-4za71">Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip during their visit to Nepal in 1961.</a>As close associates of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/highs-and-lows-of-sir-ed/">Sir Edmund Hillary</a> and collaborators in his yeti expedition activities, a private gathering had been arranged in Kathmandu with the royal guests. Sir Ed and Tenzing Norgay’s historic first ascent of Mount Everest on the eve of Elizabeth’s coronation on 29 May 1953 had forged a special bond that would last their lifetime.Just after lunch near Jiri, Konjo Chumbi’s wife gave birth to a son. The story goes: ‘She went down to the stream for a wash and came back 30 minutes later holding a baby. She wrapped him in swaddling clothes, strapped him onto her back and kept walking. They reached Kathmandu just in time to catch the royal couple before they flew off from Kathmandu’s Gauchar airport.’ <figure><img width="640" height="472" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce6b99c7e80680e096781jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>At their meeting with the royal couple, Prince Philip himself opened the car door and took the baby in his arms. He asked the boy's name. “It's up to our lamas,” Konjo Chumbi replied. The Duke said, “I've got a name for him. Call him Philip - after me.”Konjo and his wife agreed, and Prince Philip went on to appoint himself as the godfather. Thus, Thukten Phillip Sherpa derived his unique name and royal connection, somehow along the way acquiring double ‘l’ in the spelling.As a young man, Thukten spent 15 minutes with his namesake and godfather during their second state visit to Nepal in 1986, talking about his career and asking help to become a pilot. Besides his navy career, the Duke was qualified to fly 59 different aircraft.That came to nothing, but with Sir Ed’s guidance Thukten studied forestry in Switzerland, returning to run the family’s Asian Trekking in Thamel. A distinguished son of his father, Thukten Phillip was one of five Sherpas to attend Sir Edmund Hillary’s funeral in Auckland cathedral, laying white silk khata on the casket in front of the world’s television cameras.Thukten told me this week: “Being a world renowned figure, Prince Philip was a very gentle, soft speaking and positive person. Since 1986 I have not had any opportunity to meet him again. I still have great desire to visit Buckingham Palace and meet some royal family members in my lifetime.”Prince Philip the Duke of Edinburgh visited Nepal twice, from 26 February to 1 March 1961 and almost exactly 25 years later, from 17 to 21 February 1986, both state visits accompanying Queen Elizabeth.When he died on 9 April 2021 in London aged 99, tributes poured in from all corners of the globe to mark his long and much travelled life. “His generation equated service to country as service to values he believed in,” said a royal staffer. “His life reinforced a conviction that the monarchy’s survival is built on and bounded by a commitment to duty.” He completed more than 22,000 royal engagements on his own and accompanied the Queen on all of her overseas tours.His dedication to his role as consort has clearly touched many lives. Ordinary people shared their stories of “My Day with Prince Philip” and “How I Met the Duke”, with repeated refrains remembering his devastating charm, self-assured and friendly demeanour that balanced the beady glare, sharp wit and subversive impatience with protocol.Perhaps his empathy stemmed from a rootless childhood and lonely school years – he used to sign the visitor’s book at country houses with 'of no fixed abode'. Amidst the elaborate trappings of court and in constant support of the Queen, he could be counted on to be down to earth and provide a real royal twinkle.Nepali social media also buzzed with personal memories. Photos of Prince Philip included images of him stepping through the red carpeted Hanuman Dhoka, saluted by 376 elephants on a royal hunt, chatting in the British Embassy, formal portraits, and Nepali youth striving for his Duke of Edinburgh Gold Award scheme. And him binoculared and safari-suited with Prince Gyanendra and <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15828#.YITs2O4za72">Jim Edwards</a> during a visit to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2015/02/06/chitwan-best-tiger-habitat/">Chitwan National Park</a> which I had snapped during lunch at Tiger Tops in 1986. <figure><img width="640" height="474" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce6bb9c7e80680e096782jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>A committed conservationist with a deep interest in nature, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/champions-of-nepals-conservation-movement/">Philip and Gyanendra were early eco-warriors</a> and <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8973#.YITrau4za71">colleagues from World Wildlife Fund (WWF),</a> of which the Duke was founder and the first UK president. During that 1986 visit, he broke away from the main royal program to visit South Asia’s first natural world heritage site at Chitwan National Park, and spent a peaceful day amongst the tall grasslands, riverine forests and sal-covered hills of the Tarai jungles.The press corps arrived ahead of him, lining up politely outside the circular stone and thatched golghar as the two Princes strode into camp after a morning safari exploring the undisturbed wildlife of Chitwan. A retinue of rangers, park staff and security detail followed at a discreet distance.A chorus of “Good morning, Sir” greeted the Duke as he passed the assembled journalists, their cameras clicking. “It was, until you lot arrived!” I heard him growl out of the side of his mouth, living up to his reputation for irascible one-liners. He was shorter than I expected, but with fine craggy features.Lists of his best gaffes circulate the internet. My favourite are: "I declare this thing open, whatever it is" (on a visit to Canada in 1969). And "Yak, yak, yak; come on get a move on" (shouted from the deck of Britannia in Belize in 1994 to the Queen who was chatting to her hosts on the quayside).At <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/back-to-Chitwan,1075">Tiger Tops</a> he was gracious to us underlings, but there was some garbled and not very politically correct discussion about catching “some ghastly disease” from monkeys; AIDS was the epidemic of the era. At the British Embassy reception in Kathmandu the next day he was enjoying the locals so much that he failed to join the Ambassador’s group photo, to the Queen’s resigned irritation.A tribe in the remote Pacific island of Vanuatu reveres Prince Philip as the reincarnation of an ancient warrior god, greeting his death with ritual wailing and ceremonial dancing. But perhaps his most unusual story is that of Thukten Phillip Sherpa, the godson he acquired in Nepal during his first visit in 1961.That encounter followed the infamous royal hunt as the guest of King Mahendra in the lavish Meghauli camp in which the Duke diplomatically bandaged his trigger finger so as not to have to shoot any rhinos or tigers – hunters were evolving into <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/one-day-of-life-in-the-jungle-chitwan,1005">conservationists.</a> Photos show the shooting party perched in elaborate basketwork elephant howdahs engraved with regal crests, which can still be found gathering dust in the Bhimphedi hatisar. <figure><img width="640" height="501" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce6bf9c7e80680e096783jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Last weekend, Prince Philip’s flag-shrouded coffin topped with white lilies made its melancholy way through the bright spring sunshine of Windsor Castle, through socially distanced massed bands with drums muffled in respect, escorted by bowed heads, brilliant uniforms, clinking medals and black armbands, past his faithful fell ponies with his tweed cap and whip lying poignantly on the carriage’s empty seat.Sombre black coated family members followed on foot behind the Land Rover hearse, some of their lives in various states of disarray and disgrace. He was piped by naval cadets up the stone steps into the magnificence of St George’s Chapel where the Queen, his companion of 73 years, waited alone and mourning masked in the empty polished pews. During the funeral gun salutes echoed and bells tolled throughout the land, and Britain marked the Duke’s passing with a one-minute national silence at exactly 3pm.Thukten Philip is weathering the Covid-19 pandemic with his son in Sonoma, the heart of California’s wine country. “In 1961, my parents got a picture of Her Majesty the Queen and Prince Philip duly signed hanging in our private chapel in Khumjung, but now I can't find it for a long time back. I am proud of being his godchild, and he had given me his name Phillip when I was only five days old.”  <figure><img width="640" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce6c19c7e80680e096784jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="640" height="425" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce6c59c7e80680e096785jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="640" height="438" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce6c89c7e80680e096786jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-elephant-dilemma/">The Elephant Dilemma</a>, Lisa Choegyal

Lisa Choegyal

How Thukten Phillip Sherpa got his name

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171144/636bd8e39c7e80680e0801e5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>It was bitterly cold up at 2,800m in a village in the mountains of western Nepal as a cold rain fell, and the forested ridges above were covered in snow.Chandu and Makar were waiting for the rain to stop, and night to fall. They are descendants of villagers whose profession was to hunt for game, and sell meat. It was seven days before the full moon, and perfect for night hunting because the moon was not so bright yet.They were going to be out in the wilderness for a week at a time, and had to carry food to last the trip. They also lugged two long barreled muskets, gunpowder, locally made ammunition, and a ramrod to load the rifles.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171144/636bd8e79c7e80680e0801e6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171144/636bd8ea9c7e80680e0801e7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Nepal’s royalty was known for its elaborate hunting trips in Chitwan and the Tarai jungles, where they bagged hundreds of tigers, rhinos, leopards, bears and even crocodiles at one go. It was more of a leisure activity, and an attempt to play hunting diplomacy with high profile British visitors in India.But for the past 50 years, hunting has been completely banned in Nepal – except for the Dhorpatan Hunting Reserve where trophy hunting of Himalayan tahr or ghoral is allowed. The license costs a hefty sum, but there are enough people around the world who can afford to fly in private jets all the way to Kathmandu, charter helicopters out to Dhorpatan.Hunting used to be a legitimate profession in rural Nepal till recently, and unlike the royal hunts, there was no overkill. The country’s forests in those days were teeming with pheasants, small mammals and deer, and the culling was important to keep the animal population in balance.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171144/636bd8ee9c7e80680e0801e8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171144/636bd8f29c7e80680e0801e9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Chandu and Makar are descendants of these professional hunters, and they still cater to the demand for wild game in the districts, although they have to do it clandestinely now. Knowledge about hunting, prey habits, stalking skills have all been passed down from generation to generation.But this is a dying breed, and Chandu and Makar are among very few hunters who secretly still carry the tradition in their village (which we cannot name), and they could possibly be the last ones.That afternoon, the phone rang. It was Chandu’s father, and Chandu told him that since it was raining there was no point going up the mountains because of the rain and snow. His father told Chandu to stick to the plan, and the weather may actually favour animal sightings.“How can you even call yourself a hunter? When I was your age, we used to go hunt even in the snow. Don’t be a coward,” his father's loud voice could be heard on his son’s mobile.As soon as he hung up, Chandu told Makar to get ready, and that they were moving out then and there. That night they stayed in a house up the ridge from the village. They tested their guns, but one of the muskets was not shooting properly. Instead of firing once with one big bang, it went “chhyat-tadyang-ga”, as Chandu put it, imitating the sound it made.  Eventually the musket was repaired, and the barrel cleaned. It was better than before, but still the gunshot sounded off every once in a while.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171144/636bd8f59c7e80680e0801eajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The journey from the hut started early next morning before the sunrise to avoid detection. It was still dark and the path to the mountain forest was long and difficult with their destination at an altitude above 3,000 m.It is said that hunters make their own way, and it is true. There was no path. The undergrowth was so dense that thorns scratched the faces and hands. They had to stoop to avoid the lower branches, and sometimes crawl on all fours. They went deeper and deeper into the forest, and the ridgeline came into view.They were trying to move quietly, and Chandu suddenly stopped and signaled Makar to keep quiet and remain still. Slowly, he took off his backpack and lay it on the ground. Swiftly yet quietly, he took aim with his musket and fired. The sound reverberated through the forest, and echoed from the crags.Chandu disappeared into the undergrowth in the direction of his shot. He reappeared a few moments later with a pheasant dangling from his hands. He closed his eyes, bowed his head and muttered a prayer for the life he had taken.They stopped in a clearing further up, unpacked their bags and started to prepare lunch. It started raining, and they had three more hours to walk to the Odar overhang which would be their base camp for the next four days.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171144/636bd8f99c7e80680e0801ebjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1002"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The rain turned to sleet and then snow as they climbed higher. The trail was now ankle deep in fresh snow. As darkness fell, they reached the overhang, the only shelter from the snow and wind on this mountain.After settling down in the cave, the two hurried off to collect firewood as it was getting darker. This was not easy since the wood was all wet, but they came back carrying a dry log on their shoulders. This should burn all night and keep them warm.Night does not mean sleep for hunters. It is the time the nocturnal animals are out, and off the two went to stalk and find prey. They walked slowly not making a sound, but there no sign of any animals. Hungry and tired, they returned to the cave and started preparing dinner.It took a long time for the fire to get going, but they managed it and melted some snow for water. Still the meal of rice and lentil took three hours because of the cold, and the altitude. The rice tasted a bit raw.It was a bitterly cold night. Chandu and Makar snuggled for warmth under a single sleeping bag beside the fire. They took turns to add wood to keep the fire burning throughout the night. By morning, there was no firewood left, and this was just the first of four nights.Chandu had given Makar strict instructions not to speak in the jungle unless absolutely necessary. They would whisper, or whistle instead and remain as quiet as possible. They saw some deer and impeyan pheasants, but they were too far to shoot accurately. The old muskets did not have the range.Chandu crouched towards his prey, hiding behind the thick undergrowth, to get closer. But no luck. The animals would either take flight, or simply disappear. He went into the surrounding forest several times a day, even at night with a torchlight pointing up at the branches, but always came back empty-handed. Hunting is like that, it is a matter of skill, training, patience, and lots of luck.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171144/636bd8fe9c7e80680e0801ecjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171144/636bd9029c7e80680e0801edjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171144/636bd9069c7e80680e0801eejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Chandu was getting worried that his luck had run out. He has been coming to these forests with his father ever since he was a child, and knows all the nooks where the animals like to hide. But even then there were days when they had to return empty-handed.After five days in the jungle, they headed down to the village with just a pheasant to show for their effort. Makar was looking forward to going back to home food, and a warm bed. Chandu could not hide his disappointment because this was the first time he was returning empty handed. They returned exactly the way they had left, slipping into the village without anyone noticing the muskets they were carrying.This photo story was made during the International Storytelling Workshop 2020, hosted by photo.circle (Nepal) in collaboration with Oslo Metropolitan University (Norway), Pathshala South Asian Media Academy (Bangladesh), and VII Academy (USA).

Carrying on the hunting legacy in Nepal

mainNavigation

footerNavigation

opinionSubnav

hunting-in-nepal

Centennial of hunting diplomacy in Nepal

How Thukten Phillip Sherpa got his name

Carrying on the hunting legacy in Nepal