Original subtitles

Washington, D .C., March 27.

President Eisenhower today named a three -man American delegation to attend the

coronation at Kathmandu, Nepal.

Dr. Charles Mayo of the Mayo Clinic, Mrs. Robert Lowe Bacon, prominent in

affairs, and Lowell Thomas of Radio and Cinerama will represent the president,

each with the rank of ambassador.

exciting. May I go along?

Maybe. Why not?

That's how it all began.

As we know, Asia has been going what we call modern.

And with modernization, out goes traditional magnificence.

When word came that the president had appointed three of us as his special

ambassadors to the coronation in Nepal, I thought, well, why not take a Cinerama

crew? After all, this might be the last example of...

traditional oriental magnificence, the great Durbar at Kathmandu.

So, why not, through the magic of Cinerama, bring it back to you?

For some time, I had been dreaming and planning of a new Cinerama production

built around the idea of man's eternal search for Shangri -La, your search and

mine for a paradise on Earth, the scene to be in the highest mountains in the

world.

The pole, of course...

is in the Himalayas, the highest mountains on earth.

But Nepal does not include all of that vast area.

It's a realm of hidden kingdoms and principalities, mysterious religions,

weird myths.

You're all familiar with two of those legends. Remember how here at the Battle

of Issus, Alexander the Great conquered Darius, the Persian king of kings, and

how after that, Alexander's army swept through the valleys of the western

Himalayas to the banks of the Indus River.

Here on the banks of one of the tributaries, his officers came to him

Alexander that the men were murmuring they'd had enough.

They had conquered all of the world they wanted to see and were going home.

And ever since then, the Western Himalayas have been haunted with the

Alexander the Great.

It's Marco Polo country, too.

Remember the young Venetian who made that fantastic journey across Central

to Far Cathay?

And he even became an official under Kublai Khan.

here telling stories to the great Mongol emperor, a vivid account that later was

put in that book of Marco Polo that did so much to establish the legend of the

splendor of the Orient.

So now, a Cinerama expedition to the world of the Himalayas, to the

in Kathmandu, a search for paradise.

Oh, Mr. Thomas, you're just the man we're looking for.

How do you spell your greatest?

You must ask me something easy.

All right, sit down. Go right ahead.

My friend, wait.

You're old Thomas, aren't you? That's right.

My name's Shaw.

Stephen Shaw.

Glad to know you, Major.

Well, it's noisy, but there's a lot of room, and I like to move around.

Well, I know you're a man who does a lot of moving. Where are you going to move

to next?

Oh, we're off to some rather remote places.

We're heading for Central Asia, actually in search of the mythical Shangri -La.

That's extraordinary.

You know, my friend and I are trying to do the same sort of thing.

We're on TDY, and maybe our last chance to see the world.

If I can keep him awake that long.

He's the sleepiest sergeant in the Air Force.

That's an odd coincidence, Major. I wouldn't have believed it.

We better talk about it a bit. We might have room for you on our expedition.

Pilot from scanner.

You see that formation of 119s off the left wing?

I wonder what they're doing out here.

Hey, Major.

Major.

What a sight.

Passing an airbase in the south where they are holding aerial exercises, the

kind that's always a thriller of the sky.

Ah, yes, the Air Force is a great place.

The Major and Sergeant hardly agree on that.

But they're in a mood to take a look at the farthest far away.

So they decide, yes, they'll tag along with the Cinerama expedition.

Invitation accepted.

landfall after spanning the Atlantic, off the northern coast of France, we

what was at one time a Shangri -La in the Middle Ages, the old monastery of

Saint -Michel, to which medieval monks fled from the world.

The major thinks...

Maybe here in this monastery could be an escape from the modern world, the

machine age, the push -button era.

Ben Perrin.

And the Sarge remembers the bistro, the Van Roos.

This could be paradise for him.

Port Said, Gateway to the Orient, all part of a routine flight for the

Globemaster.

The U .S. airport, with its worldwide network of transport planes, is the

greatest airline in all the world.

I can tell Major Steve about the remote, seldom -visited city that's coming

next, along the desolate coast of southern Arabia, the port of Makua, a

that remains unchanged since the days of Sinbad the Sailor, like a dream city

out of the Arabian Nile.

Sleepy crew chief.

If they left the Air Force, well, they would be free to go off to some far

distant place.

Say, Zanzibar.

Or right here, Bombay, gateway to India.

India, home of the mysterious and exotic.

But our Globemaster is bound for Ceylon.

There we'll part company for a while.

I'm having arrangements to make in India.

In Ceylon, the sergeant tends to try that real oriental curry, always

of his child.

The major, an idealist, has other ideas.

taking this opportunity to visit a mystical shrine.

He has heard much of Ceylon as the traditional center of Buddhism.

The Temple of Lankatilaka, deep in the tropical heart of this island on the

equator, where the temples and images are symbols of escape from any busy,

bustling world.

into the inner peace of the soul.

Hear the prayer rises.

Om Mani Padme Om.

Jewel in the heart of the lotus.

In his epic poem, The Light of Asia, Sir Edwin Arnold wrote, Lord

Buddha, all -honored, wisest, best, most pitiful, the teacher

of nirvana and the law.

And the poet sang, Om Mani Padme Om, the sunrise comes, the dewdrop

flips into the shining sea.

this could indeed be a mystical Shangri -La for a fugitive from modern

civilization.

But the jet pilot goes to rejoin his crew chief to continue the journey to

world of the Himalayas.

north of India, we fly on to the hidden valleys beyond the snowy ranges.

Valleys next door to nowhere.

Principality of Hunza lies deep in the world's highest mountains, where the

western Himalayas are flanked by the towering Karakorum.

We can fly, if lucky, as far as the mountain outpost of Gilgit, then on

by trail.

At Gilgit, Pakistan Governor Kiani sees them all.

Major Steve and the Sarge, escorted by Colonel Muhammad Atola.

rugged closure and mountaineers. Thank you very much. Starting out for Hunza,

the happy valley of Hunza, which not many travelers have seen.

The

golden

wheat has ripened early this year in Gilda, the harvest in full swing.

Since the dawn of agriculture, man has threshed his wheat and barley like that.

Primitive? Oh, yes, but still effective.

They can make the first part of the journey in that mechanical marvel of the

20th century, the Jeep.

The Major, inspired by the mountain solitude.

The Sarge, hoping the trip won't be too tough.

The road is rough, so explains Colonel Atola.

But Allah is merciful, so why worry?

Mustafa, our Hunza driver, knows every turn of the road, every inch of the way,

every loose rock, why he could drive this mountain trail with his eyes

But don't you dare close your eyes, Mustafa.

That hanging bridge there across the swiftly running Hunza River, it's made

twigs and vines tightly braided into thick strands.

Each end of the bridge suspended ingeniously between stone towers.

Getting across requires the skill of an aerial acrobat.

This is an ancient caravan route.

along which the mountain peoples have carried on primitive trade for

traversing the Karakorams and western Himalayas into Central Asia, cities

like Yorkman, Khotan, Bokhara, Samarkand.

The Jeep Trail here, a wonder of primitive engineering.

in places mere narrow ledges perched above yawning chasms, often held up only

slabs of stone and heavy bolts.

No more.

Just gravity holding up the road, that is, until rains and landslides take out

mile or two, and then travelers sometimes are trapped for weeks.

hardly more than a trail, finally gets to be almost too much for the deep.

Here they stop in awe.

Looming before them, Rakaposhi, goddess of the snow, 25 ,500

feet high, one of the tallest in the Karakoram.

The village of Sikandarabad and the end of the jeep trail.

From here on, it's either a foot or in the saddle.

The Hunzakut version of the slingshot. A pebble taking the place of an arrow.

Accurate and deadly.

Supplies and equipment.

Even the latest, well, not quite the latest, plumbing facilities.

Everything but the shower.

Small Central Asian horses are bred especially for trail work and endurance.

Sure -footed, they know their way around the dizzy canyon walls.

That is, usually they do.

A long day, the sun beating down, and the Sarge is tired.

Hey, wake up, wake up!

Some people pick strange places for a snooze.

Signs of habitation, an aqueduct overhead, precious water channeled into

villages along the trail.

never climbed, yet doomed to be conquered eventually like all Himalayan

days of travel continued in order to reach Baltimore, capital of Hunza.

Here in the Karakorams, the mountains are, on the average, almost twice as

as the Alps, with 60 summits rising above 22 ,000 feet.

Rakoposhi has one wall that drops 19 ,000 feet from the summit to the valley

floor.

shelf -like terraces, the green fields of Hunza.

There at the far end of the valley, Baltic, the Hunza capital, still another

away.

Hunza, a legend of exciting land in a remote part of a great new nation of

in Pakistan.

Ah, this could be it, a land of escape, far from the hustle and bustle of the

modern world.

If you're in search for paradise.

is Khan, brother of the Mir, the ruler of this mountain kingdom.

Those are the Mir's children, Crown Prince Chazanfar, offering the customary

silver platter laden with fruit.

In physical type, they are like southern Europeans.

The people of Hunza claim to be descendants of Greek soldiers of

Great.

Welcome to Hunza. What a beautiful trip. Thank you. The

royal

palace, designed by the mayor

himself, built by native craftsmen of the granite and timber of the Hunza

Valley.

According to tradition, the Mir greets his visitors at the threshold of his

home.

Legend

is

that the Mirs of Hunza are descended from Alexander the Great himself.

Hunza's National Game Polo, which they say originated in these regions. Every

village has its polo grounds, and often it's the town square.

Here in the backyard behind the mirror table, the children start early to learn

the intricacies of polo.

My kingdom for a horse might well be the cry for these youngsters, and sometimes

it would be easier on the toad.

Now for a game between two rival teams, choosing upside with the traditional

ritual.

Where's the referee?

There is none.

What are the rules of the game?

There are none to speak of.

Anything goes short of mayhem.

The inter -rivalry between the local villages is fierce and often runs to a

fever pitch.

In this land of legend, Even horses have a legend.

Marco Polo, who didn't play the game, tells of horses descended from

war charger of Alexander the Great.

The Mayor, riding at full tilt.

Catch the ball in flight and you can carry it or pass it to a teammate to

across the goal line.

Polo as they play it in regions where it was born.

What do you know? The Sarge has joined the band.

Meanwhile, back of the mirror statement.

and the boy who's always late.

The school, sponsored by the Aga Khan, spiritual leader of the Ismaili sect of

Islam, to which the Hunza people belong.

Four languages taught, English, Urdu, common in parts of India, Persian

and Arabic.

Burushaski, their own Hunza language, is a mystery tongue and has no writing.

Four versions of five words.

Horse, dog, water, sky, bread.

English is sky.

Kurdish is sky.

Persian is sky.

Arabic is sky.

Good. English is bread.

Kurdish is bread.

Persian is bread.

Arabic is bread.

Good. It's hard.

What does it say?

School days at Hunza Hieroglyphic High, under headmaster Sultan Ali.

Of work they have their share, like children everywhere, when they're not

learning ABC.

Or arithmetic in Hunza. They're playing games or climbing trees. They're

snubbing toes and skinning knees. Or getting stung by bumblebees in Hunza.

Hunza.

And how could any mountain paradise be complete without a place to go fishing?

Hey, Josh.

Look here. I caught one.

Afternoon tea for the royal family in a setting reminiscent of a Renoir

painting.

Vermeer's wife, the Rani, only recently emerged from Perda, the veiled seclusion

of the Orient, never before photographed.

Vermeer, educated at English -type schools in Gilded and Royal Pindy. Some

ago, at the invitation of the Aga Khan, Vermeer traveled to Europe.

His dream now, America.

They don't need pills to cure their ills in Hunza, Hunza.

The food they eat is simple.

They snub the cup that cheers.

No alcohol is used at all in Hunza.

The health of the people proverbial.

Many diseases common elsewhere unknown here.

Marco Polo said that he was cured of sickness by the salubrious air of these

mountains.

The Hunzikuts produce nearly everything they need. The valley self -sustaining.

castle of the Mirs of Hunza in the village of Altit, where they resided

they moved to Baltit.

Just over those mountains, Russian Central Asia and Red China, Hunza

by its mountain ramparts, a Himalayan version of classical Arcadia.

Total population, around 25 ,000.

In this Himalayan lost world, paradise without poverty.

Nobody has too little.

Nobody has too much.

There's no one passing laws and acts. No cops, no jails, no income

tax. They live...

his guests, the mirror holds the ceremonial derbar.

Outdoors, simple in keeping with his country's economy.

Look, back there above the mirror's dais, the curling twisted horns, the

poli, named for Marco Polo.

The longer V -shaped horns, the ibex.

Here the mirror meets every morning with the town elders and head men of nearby

villages.

He's the judge and the jury.

Complaints concern water rights and grazing privileges mostly.

You plead your own case.

No lawyers.

Utopia.

These Hunsikut Nijinskis, some of them, are the chief men of the village, a

sword dance that recalls the time when the people here were wild raiders and

looters.

Like a page out of half -forgotten Hunza history.

As they depart, our seekers for a land of escape say, yes, indeed, this could

it.

Someday, someday we may return.

In the western Himalayas, there's a killer mountain, seen from a night camp,

gilded by the setting sun, turned into a thing of beauty.

26 ,000 -foot Nanga Parbat, which has taken the lives of 31 climbers.

In the valley, a perilous river, the Indus.

The Indus pouring down from the lofty Tibetan plateau through vast gorges.

Its upper reaches, for the most part, still unexplored.

The world of the Himalayas not only has the highest of mountains, but in its

immensity of glaciers rise the greatest assemblage of mighty rivers on this

planet. Among them,

the Oxus, the Yangtze, the Mekong, the Irrawaddy, the

Brahmaputra, the Ganges,

and the historic Indus, famous in the story of Alexander the Great.

These have one thing in common.

Their beginnings, these rivers, still little known.

A new frontier for exploration.

A dangerous mountain is conquered by climbing.

A river, by running it in a boat.

Some have said that the gorges of the Indus would never be run.

A challenge.

Now a Cinerama exploit on a frontier of river exploration.

The boat for making pictures brought out from the United States

by air.

A rubber inflated craft used for heavy work on the Colorado River.

But what's going to happen on the wilder, swifter Indies?

How will the Rapids treat the three -eyed camera, ponderous with its three

magazines of film, of which this is one?

We have brought two river experts, Bus and Don Hatch, out from our own Colorado

for the battle against the Indies.

Put on your main web.

If she goes over, you'll need it.

Loaded to capacity.

Off we go.

Our boat, 27 feet long, 8 feet wide, with the triple camera, heavy batteries,

spare parts, and all the other gadgets and installations required for this

unwieldy apparatus.

Plus a crew of eight.

Total weight of cargo and crew?

Some two and a half tons.

And the heavier the load, the less maneuverable.

Watch it bend under the twisting power of those waves and these only a mild

taste of what's to come.

No turning back now.

So, through we go.

What about our heroes now?

Oh, they get stuck in the mud, as heroes so often do.

Keep your eye on the man in the red cap. That's Harry Squire, our veteran

Cinerama cameraman.

To the rescue, Director Otto Lang.

Ending a day memorable in the conquest of reverence.

Morning at Cinerama City.

Last -minute preparations for another day on the trail.

Their goal this time?

A valley of bliss, of which all have heard.

Good morning, Harry. Everything all right?

Oh, we're all set.

The camera and the batteries are all right.

The only thing is, Jack don't feel too well.

And now they're bound for a valley that the great moguls of India regarded as

the paradise on earth.

technicians and assistants numbering 24, plus an army of native porters, a

Himalayan caravan.

Cameras, sound equipment, generators, batteries, gasoline cans, spillman

containers cooled with dry ice, bags of money to pay off the porters, water

tanks, food supplies, tents, even an umbrella.

by snow -capped mountains, we come upon a ghost town.

of a deserted gold camp of our American West.

The far -famed Vale

of Kashmir.

It is this, it is this, it is this.

The Mughal emperor of India, Jahangir, created the Shalimar Garden in the Vale

of Kashmir for his queen, Nurmahal, the light of the palace.

Not prose, but poetry.

The Irish lyric Tom Moore wrote in his poem Lala Rook, Oh, if there is an

Elysium on Earth.

Srinagar, capital of Kashmir, where I've come to rejoin the Cinerama expedition

and our two vagrant airmen who are seeking a valley of heart's desire.

famous not only for its beauty, but also for its climate, described in terse

words by a Kashmiri poet.

Heat there is, but hot tis not.

Cold there is, but cold tis not.

A city of canals and water life, somewhat like Venice.

On the shores of Dahl Lake, world -famous for its tranquil beauty.

Five rupees.

The Dahl Lake taxis are called shikaras, with names reminiscent of the lingo of

British and American fighter pilots who came here in World War II.

Minnehaha, sugar daddy.

Rolls -Royce.

Kilroy. Full spring seats.

Ha, ha.

We take Peg of my heart.

I'm the conservative type.

Where to, asks the boatman.

Oh, to Buckingham Palace, we reply.

Which might sound as if we were going to visit their Britannic majesty.

Everywhere that unique institution, the Kashmiri houseboat.

If you feel like moving, your house is just road to a new address.

No.

Take it easy and think of your way.

If it's good, it will wait. If it can't, that is fate.

There'll be much better day than today.

On the mountaintop stands a golden chair, and the ghost of Marco Polo is

sitting there.

If he was alive today the way we are, of the Cinerama picture he would

be the star.

Marco Polo relates that Kashmir was a haunt of weird matchmaking, where a

magician might make temple idols talk and change day into night.

It's different now.

Don't be fast, don't be quick. You'll be tired, you'll be sick. Take it easy and

things come your way.

If it's good, it will wait. If it's time, that is fate.

There'll be much better day than today.

The Major and the Sarge have established residence at Buckingham Palace.

If you care to walk, you buy the royal wing.

For a couple rupees, you can live like a king.

Our two fugitives from the machine age have found a real paradise, the easy

life, where you can buy things for a song.

Don't be fast, don't be quick. You be tired, you be sick. Take it easy and

things come your way.

If it's good, it will wait. If it can't, that it's fate, there'll be much better

day than today.

Seeing as Shakara headed toward their royal abode, they prepared to welcome a

visitor to Buckingham Palace.

A little like arriving at a palace in Venice.

And the local boatmen are, if anything, even better at driving a bargain than

the gondoliers of Venice.

Thanks, Natter.

See you later.

Welcome aboard, Lowell.

Hi, Lowell. Come on up.

These two may not be royalty, but they seem to be living like moguls.

In Kashmir, you live in the east.

When it's time for you to leave, you will want to stay.

Even Lowell Thomas, though I may be wrong, will be going native if you

stay very long.

Mr. Lowell Thomas, adventurer, thinks Kashmir could be the place that he would

prefer. But we have no microphone for him to use.

And if he should stay here, who would broadcast this?

I can only say if I were looking for an escape from the complexities of modern

civilization, I couldn't think of a better place than this Kashmiri

Dahl Lake with those snowy western Himalayas in the distance.

The sweetest sound that you've ever heard. You don't have to search for a

grocery store, for the sewer market will come right to your door. Would you like

to take on your residence where a man can get a haircut for $10?

On the upper deck, Kashmiri Monsieur Abdul Sattar.

Note his credentials.

As with the Sarge, this is not only a Himalayan heaven, it's the life of

Now the hour of worship, when men and women face toward the holy shrine of

Mecca.

recited in unison.

Muslim pilgrims come from far distances to worship at this shrine, for it

contains a priceless relic, one solitary hair from the beard of the Prophet.

This is the greatest Muslim shrine in the world of the Himalayas.

Evening comes on, and we can only echo the Kashmiri poet who wrote, To each man

grant his wish, to the nightingale the garden, and to me Kashmir.

of international importance, the coronation of a king who has inherited a

at a troubled spot in the East -West conflict.

The remote Himalayan principality of Nepal is still in the Asiatic Middle

until recently dominated by hereditary prime ministers, the Ranas, who were

overthrown a few years ago, King Mahendra now to be crowned as the ruling

sovereign.

This may be a last glimpse of the traditional splendor of Asia, but it's

affair of ultra -modern power politics.

New Delhi, capital of independent India.

That dome palace, the residence of the president of India, surrounded by

handsome government buildings.

Below now, the massive old red fort, built by the emperor Shah Jihad, the

magnificent Mughal.

Geography, political.

North of India, the towering Himalayas, beyond which lies Tibet, under the

domination of red China.

Nepal, in between the new India and the power of communism.

Kathmandu, forbidden to outsiders until recently.

The Indian delegation, headed by the Vice President of India, Dr.

Sarvapalli Radhakrishnan, philosopher, statesman, and diplomat, which

reflects... Indian interest in this highly strategic realm of Nepal.

In a counter -move of power politics, the Chinese Reds have sent an imposing

delegation headed by no less than the Vice Premier of China, Wu Lanfu.

coronation may seem odd, but the Chinese Reds are quite willing to play a game

of intrigue at a royal court.

The stakes are high.

Possible control of Nepal on the Indian side of the Himalayas.

The American delegation arriving in Kathmandu, including magnetic Mrs.

Lofake, prominent in civic and political affairs of Washington and New York.

Accompanied by our tall, active ambassador in India, Frederick Bartlett

lady.

Over there on the left, a world -famous name in medicine, Dr. Charles Mayo of

the Mayo Clinic with Mrs. Mayo.

Oh, yes, there is one other member of the American delegation.

The United States, the only country to send three full ambassadors to this

Himalayan coronation.

The chief of protocol, Sardar Prakat Mansingh, meets me with a most

1929 Buick.

License number, if you can read it, 46.

The 46th automobile ever to reach this country.

The forests of Nepal are famous for their herds of wild elephants, many of

are captured and chained.

Kathmandu traffic hazards include elephants.

We are about to drive over an American steel bridge, every part of which was

carried over the mountains by man.

nice, quiet bridge.

Frantic, last -minute decorations are going up everywhere.

The legend is that the Tree of Paradise, taking the form of a man, strolled into

this valley, liked it, and promised to send some sacred wood for a shrine,

he did.

Kat, meaning wood, Mandu, truck.

A city of a quarter of a million people, with hundreds of temples and shrines.

After saying a prayer, this Buddhist monk places a flower on his head.

Many Nepalese still adhere to the aboriginal spirit and demon worship of

Bumphoism. Others to Hinduism, and many are Buddhists.

This image of Kali, the destroyer, tells us that it is a land of exotic

religions.

Vishnu many Nepalese call him Narayan reclining on the serpent of eternity

sculptured more than a thousand years ago the

burning gods where the dead

are cremated just as in India along the Ganges

of the river where children splash and play.

In the distance now, the main range of the Himalayas, nearly 100 miles off, a

land of mountain and jungle trails.

But for some 30 years, the rich Rana nobles imported a few automobiles.

All of them brought over the mountains from India in this way.

It takes a hundred or more men to carry a car, depending on its weight.

Why should they walk?

What difference do an additional two or three hundred pounds make?

Meanwhile, from one of the palaces to which visiting

ambassadors are assigned, we ride in state to present our credentials to King

Mahendra. in silk topper and striped pants, all delegations instructed to

formal clothes.

Look who's here, on his way to the coronation. The serge, substituting for

Himalayan boss man, still the crew chief.

The major walks, chatting with a Jesuit missionary stationed in Kathmandu.

my credentials, accompanied by Chuda Prasad Sharma, the Nepalese foreign

minister, and by Paul Rose, head of the American technical aid mission to Nepal,

who borrowed his topper from the British ambassador.

I am told that I must bow three times before his majesty.

Let's see if I do it right.

Your Majesty, I've come halfway around the world to present the congratulations

of my country.

May I present Mr. Rose of the United States Mission.

Your Majesty, I'm honored.

King Mahendra Bir Bikram Shah Deva is kept busy with ceremonies and

For long generations, Nepal was ruled by those hereditary prime ministers of the

Rana family.

But in 1951, Mahendra's father, King Tribhuvana, grew tired of being a

escaped from the palace, flew to India, and then came rebellion in Nepal.

And the rule of the hereditary Rana prime ministers collapsed.

And the king returned a real sovereign, but only for a short time.

And upon his death, his son seized the throne.

The Chinese Reds in their severely cut black robe, the uniform of communism.

The Red

Ambassador arriving for an audience with the King, escorted by the Nepalese

Foreign Minister, Chuta Prasad Sharma.

Behind the scenes, the game of power politics is in full swing.

Soon after this coronation event, the news came, a treaty signed between the

Chinese Reds and King Mahendra's Nepal.

The British delegation, in the blue mantle of the Knight of the Garter, Lord

Scarborough, Chamberlain to the Queen, former Air Minister Lord Delisle,

Anderson, a British commander in Malaya, and an Oxford star in full academic

role.

and the British Army fighting the Reds in Malaya.

The Gurkhas originally were Rajput warriors in India.

Centuries ago, they fled from the Muslim invaders, conquered Nepal, and later

the British recruited them for the Gurkha regiments of the Kipling

Lord Scarborough presents a sword to King Mahendra, informing him that he is

an honorary British general.

The eyes of Buddha overlooking Kathmandu.

Tradition says he was born in Nepal, the teacher of Nirvana and the law.

The eyes of Buddha penetrating inscrutable.

Eyes of mystery that see all you do in Kathmandu.

Before the entrance to the shrine, pilgrims prostrate themselves and chant.

Omani Padme Om.

Omani Padme Om.

While the prayer wheels spin, each

turn a thousand prayers.

Well, what pilgrims are these?

Say, you fellows, you're going the wrong way.

Your prayers won't be heard at all unless you turn and go the other way.

Still looking for their dream world, even in far Kathmandu.

The day of the big event.

Hanuman Delta Square, named after Hanuman the Monkey God.

The place of the coronation.

just inside the temple courtyard to the right.

More than a million people have thronged into the city from all parts of Nepal.

Marco Polo tradition of the gorgeous East now becoming a thing of the past

communist and Graham India a parliamentary democracy

The little

crown prince arriving at the temple courtyard

being regarded as a divinity, reincarnation of the god Vishnu.

In simple white raiment, passing through a golden doorway, he has been purified,

anointed with mud from an elephant's table for strength, from the Himalayas

wisdom.

He has only one wife, although he could have many. But he prefers monogamy. One

queen. Her name?

Ratnaraj Galaxmi.

Never before had a camera been allowed in this sacred temple enclosure.

But the king gave Cinerama permission.

So now their Himalayan majesties take their places with powerful Cinerama

illuminating the throne of the nine golden circles.

Dr. Mayo and I, among other delegates, have good places, but you and the

Cinerama audience have a far better view.

consulting the stars have calculated the exact minute 1043 AM and at that

instant King Mahendra is crowned with a diadem surmounted by a plume of the

greater bird of paradise

...stored in kept emblems of kingship.

Then the ritual is done.

Like a sinister ghost at the park, the Chinese commune began in black.

Then

the

climax of the Durbar.

The coronation parade in the land of elephants.

Being mounts and dismounts a white horse is every move this day dictated by

traditions of old.

Platters of flowers for a scattering of pebbles before the king.

Enough to take the daylight out of you when your elephant gives up.

Royal children ride in the carriage, including the crown prince.

Up you go, Your Royal Highness.

white plume of that greater bird of paradise, adorning a crown encrusted

hundreds of pearls, diamonds, and emeralds.

The golden umbrella, sign of royalty in Southern Asia.

Ah, but look who's joining the procession.

Daughters of American officials are invited to take part in the parade.

The star is talking about taking him and the major along, too.

Our two fugitives from the machine age who have found themselves in some

peculiar situations on this journey.

Now with a Himalayan coronation for a climax.

Thank you.

The best laugh of the coronation week, me and a toddler atop an elephant.

Look out, General.

So ends the Royal Durbar, such as man in this fast -changing, mechanized world

may never see again.

Now for a final fantasy.

Returning home to take another look at the wonderland of the machine age.

Then they'll make up their mind.

Did they find Shangri -La in the Himalayas? Or will they decide it right

where they were? We're coming in. Let's wait and see. This is it.

Come on, Major.

Wake up, Sarge.

Hey!

Back in the technological era of B -47 jet planes, intercontinental atomic

bombers.

The U .S. Air Force epitomizes the marvels of modern technology, like the

mechanism of the Globemaster in this push -button maze.

The charge heads for home through Jolly.

Always the crew chief.

The major wonders what's doing at the old air base.

Let's see. Will they now decide to stay in the Air Force?

What's your guess?

Sure hate to leave this crowd.

It's good to be home again.

Bye. Bye.

Thanks, fellows.

Wonderful trip. Bye.

Great park.

Hello. Take a look up there. Oh. Pretty nice. Wow.

Refueled like that, a B -52 can fly for days on end.

This same jet bomber circumnavigated the globe nonstop.

Three F -100 jets docking into position for the latest refueling maneuver.

jet fighters refueling simultaneously in flight.

The climatic hangar, outside Florida heat 95, inside 65

below.

Brr, it's cold.

The plane, the F -104, called the missile with the man in it.

Fastest plane in existence, top speed still classified, but more than 1 ,500

miles an hour.

Watch it go.

A research laboratory for testing jets at supersonic speeds in level flight.

First, a few trial runs, skimming the ground at speeds approaching the sound

barrier.

Now, an eerie, silent approach.

The planes traveling faster than sound. The crash through the sound barrier and

the shock wave.

on the job to charge the crew chief who gets the plane ready.

Major Steve at the controls of an F -102, ready to take it into the air to

if his Himalayan search has caused him to lose the touch.

Ah, yes.

They've decided to stay on in the Air Force.

They've seen the glowing fantasies of Asia and the dark shadow of communism,

too. And their search for a paradise on Earth ends right back where they

started.

In the world of the Himalayas, they saw the path.

But in the realm of modern science, there lies the future.

It's my dream for all the ordinary earthly things. In Dubai, this is the

where the eagle would fly. On the way to the sky for a close look at life.

Off we go.

Just a minute.

Call me discontent