‘Keep quiet,’ muttered the elder. ‘Most unusual. Smugglers? Robbers?’
‘Can’t be normal village people, I’ll be bound,’ whispered the younger. ‘They keep well away when there’s leopard shooting.’
A short distance off both lots of footsteps came to a stop and a noise like a bull frog was made from one end. This was echoed from the other. The footsteps cautiously resumed and two pairs of men met under the machan. One in each group stood back and the other two moved forward, gazed at each other and embraced.
As Jaslal peered down through the bamboo slats of the machan he saw that one was much shorter than the other. Hemlal laid a restraining hand on his brother’s arm and gently squeezed it, a sign to remain utterly silent.
The shorter man spoke and Sergeant Jaslal, who had been an instructor in the Gurkha school, nearly gave their position away by his violent jolt when he heard the voice of one he knew too well and thoroughly despised for his habits.
‘Padamsing?’ The taller man asked softly in English. ‘Is this really you after so many years?’
The renegade Gurkha had gone into east Nepal to try and whip up support among leave men for his campaign that had been so unhappily disrupted and had had a message to meet, name not given, at a certain place. At that question he turned and recognised the monk, Lee Kheng Kwoh, who had seduced him when a lad in Darjeeling.
The familiar voice of ex-Sergeant Padamsing Rai answered, ‘Mijhar! Mijhar Lee Kheng Kwoh, my boyhood hero! Yes, it is I. I have come to meet you as your unnamed instructions told me to. I did not let any local villager know I was coming here: I made a recce by myself, with my own escort.’
They embraced again. ‘Same as I did,’ said Lee Kheng Kwoh. ‘We can talk here. We won’t be disturbed. The villagers stay indoors at night, especially with the man-eating leopard I’ve been told is wandering about.
He then called out softly: ‘you two others go back down the track you came up and, if anyone comes, turn them back.’
In the moonlight the two shikaris saw them turn round and disappear.
Padamsing said, ‘Now we really are on our own, aren’t we?’ He leant over and kissed his companion with a whispered titter that sent shudders down the two brothers’ spines.
‘Comrade Padam, you are just the same as you were all those years ago.’
‘Yes, the same me, older and a bit sadder.’
‘Tell me where you’ve been since we last met in Darjeeling all those years ago, when you were still young. I heard that you were going to subvert British Army Gurkhas. Did you manage to?’
Before he could answer they heard the bleating of the tied goat, disturbed by the guard who had frightened it. ‘A goat? Here? Why?’ muttered the one-time Sergeant in alarm.
The monk gave an un-monk-like curse. ‘Those stupid villagers! A goat and no shikaris! What fools they are. Excuse me a moment.’ He went up the track towards the renewed bleating, saw the tethered animal and told his guard to keep an eye on it and to take it back with them when they left.
Back under the tree the renegade Gurkha said, ‘Mijhar, to answer your question. I was so nearly successful. I really was. I had it all going so smoothly that I felt sure they would be useless for British imperialism.’
‘“So nearly successful”? What exactly do you mean?’
I mean “personally” successful. I had to leave the operation in the hands of others. I was wrongly…’ and here he felt he could not mention the real reason even though the monk had been responsible for his all-male proclivity.
‘That was highly unfortunate. So then, what happened?’
‘I transferred my work to Patna, in India, and was making great headway with the MGB comrade there, but he changed his mind. I felt so let down I just knew it was time to stop working for the Soviet Communists and transfer my loyalties to you. I will try to organise an army in the hills to persuade people that the Nepalese government must be overthrown, and our men being recruited in foreign armies prohibited. Now it’s time
to eat.’
He opened the haversack he had been carrying. ‘I have some chapattis and tea, Mijhar. The tea is as you like it, weak, unsweetened and without milk. I remember learning that in Darjeeling.’
‘Yes, you are known for your good memory.’
On the machan the younger man put his mouth to his brother’s ear. ‘We are armed. We could kill both so easily. Let’s shoot them.’
Hemlal again laid a restricting hand on his brother’s arm. ‘No, too risky and one is a monk. Can’t do it. Our hill men are too sensible to react to scum like that. Thank goodness there are so few of them. Let them go away without learning
about us.’
‘So, Comrade Padam,’ the monk said some few minutes later, it being impolite in Chinese society to talk while eating, ‘these are my orders. I will help you to get arms from the Chinese or, if you think it easier, you can do it yourself on the Indian black market – I’ll fund you – and gather villagers and where possible leave men and open a campaign against the Nepalese government for recruiting Gurkhas for the British Army and, where possible, try and influence Indian-domiciled Nepalis to do the same.’
‘Yes, it means I can continue our Party’s policy.’
‘Exactly that. My sincere wish to help you will in no way diminish as I carry out my new task, which is taking Assamese comrades to China for training.’
‘That I fully understand. Time to move off. Put those eating bits and pieces away.’
The two men stood up and moved off together, followed by their escorts, the monk’s leading the goat.
When they were out of earshot Hemlal said, ‘No goat so no leopard. Let’s get down. We’ll try again tomorrow or the next day.’
‘Shall we report this to the police?’ Jaslal asked his elder brother once they were back home.
‘Yes, I think we ought to. Leave it to me.’
***
History doesn’t relate whether they were successful with the leopard but does relate that the ex-Sergeant was unsuccessful in his attempt to start a rebellion. The Royal Nepal Army was deployed against him and, after nearly being captured, he managed to escape.[2]
***
Monday 8 December 1952, Rangoon, on board SS Eastern Queen: ‘P’ing Yee, I’ll be visited by the Defence Attaché some time while we’re tied up and, possibly, someone from the Nepalese consulate. I think it’ll be wiser not to introduce you to them, but if you’d like to meet either I’ll merely introduce you as someone I met on board. What think you?’
