Auspicious Moment

In pomp and circumstance worthy of his impressive titles, a bespectacled Nepalese named Mahendra was last week crowned King of Kings, Five Times Godly, Valorous Warrior and Divine Emperor. With the towering Himalayas as a backdrop, and money no object, it was the subcontinent's party of the year. Everybody was anxious to make the coronation a thumping success. Distrusting the manners of their local waiters, the Nepalese had imported 130 skilled servitors from India to minister to the distinguished guests. The best chef in town was sprung from jail (where he was serving a sentence for bootlegging) to supervise the feasts. Forty extra taxicabs of 2O-year vintage had been driven into town over the new road from India. Pink and blue bathtubs, toilets by the dozen, chickens, ducks, guinea hens, smoked salmon and gallons of Coca-Cola had all been flown in over the mountains to brighten the occasion. A million Nepalese and some 400 foreign guests jammed the capital city of Katmandu (pop. 175,000) to enjoy them.

Royal Prospects. The King's prospects are better than his predecessors'. For more than a century the Kings of Nepal, whose subjects believe them to be the reincarnation of the god Vishnu, were virtual prisoners of their Prime Ministers, whose usurped power was handed down through the Rana family for generation after generation. A revolution sparked by neighboring India in 1950 toppled the Ranas and restored the Kings, under the benevolent protection of Jawaharlal Nehru, who needs mountainous Nepal as a buffer against Communist China.

On Coronation Day, reflecting the new tranquillity, the lush green valley surrounding the capital shimmered with fresh color. Hibiscus and gardenias vied with the brilliant new paint on farmers' houses that looked like huge, multi-flavored icecream cones. Here and there shone the glint of newly gilded brass gods, while ringed all around were the ghostly peaks of the high Himalayas. In the midst of it all, Coronation Guest Lowell Thomas, in proper tails, darted about directing a crew of Cinerama cameramen.

As the ancient coronation ceremonies began in the courtyard of the ornate royal Palace of the Monkey God, the slight young King, in white jodhpurs and tunic, and his young Queen Devi, in a bright red sari, strolled casually in to take their places, cross-legged and barefoot, on white cushions placed before the throne.

An Elephant Ride. All around them, saffron-robed Brahman priests bustled hither and thither, frequently consulting notebooks to get the complex ritual straight. An occasional argument in stage whispers broke out and was quickly hushed. After the royal couple mounted the throne--at exactly the auspicious moment of 10:43 a-m--the nead Priest, moving carefully so as not to knock off the young King's glasses, placed upon the monarch's head a peaked helmet adorned with bird-of-paradise feathers* and some $2,000,000 worth of precious gems.

When the official ceremony was done, the King, the Queen, the leading officials and the distinguished guests were hoisted onto the backs of newly painted elephants for a grand parade through the city. Britain's aristocratic Earl of Scarbrough and one of Red China's Vice Premiers, Ulanfu, who shared a howdah, smiled wanly at the cheering crowds as their huge beast heaved and rolled along the line of march. Behind them an elephantload of Indian maharajas grinned as happily as college boys joy riding in a hot rod.

-All traffic in bird-of-paradise plumes has been internationally banned since 1924, to prevent the extinction of the birds. Learning that Nepal badly needed to replace its worn-out royal plumes, the U.S. shipped over a package of 100 plumes that had been stored in New York City's American Museum of Natural History.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.