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- Mar 5, 1999
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Some of you old timers know about this curse so please forgive me for being repetitive. But there are some newcomers to the forum who probably haven't heard about the curse and they may get a kick out of this story. So, here it is again.
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There is an old legend or myth about the Gurkha and his khukuri which we have all heard and it goes like this: If a Gurkha draws his khukuri it must draw blood before it goes back into the scabbard.
Since a khukuri is a knife of many uses it is often drawn for reasons other than to kill or maim an enemy. Therefore, most often, the blood drawn is not that of an enemy but of the Gurkha himself and is done so by inflicting a small cut on thumb or finger. I am told by Gurkha friends in Nepal that this myth is largely untrue. Some Gurkhas, especially those of days long gone by, did adhere to this custom but many didn't so legend has it. But, today it is a rare Gurkha, indeed, who draws his own blood before returning a drawn khukuri to its scabbard. Having gone on record saying this I will now contradict myself in part and put the record straight.
Some kamis, the low caste Hindu who makes knives, become Gurkhas, just like Himalayan Imports number 1, Bai Bishwakarma. Kamis who value their heritage, that of being born a kami and inheriting the traditional family work of making khukuris and additionally of having Gurkha service, take their jobs seriously and many do, in fact, bless the knives they make by sprinking a few drops of their own blood onto newly manufactured khukuris. This procedure is followed by the kamis who make Himalayan Imports khukuris. Led by our number one and my adopted brother, Til, a kami with 400 years of family knifemaking history behind him and a 32 year veteran of Gurkha service, the ritual goes like this.
Til and the kamis who have worked on our knives cut their fingers and a few drops of blood are sprinkled on the Himalayan Imports khukuris before they leave on their 12,000 mile journey to the United States. The prayer or blessing that is sent with our knives goes something like this: A PART OF US HAS GONE INTO EACH KHUKURI, THUS GIVING THE KNIFE THE SPIRIT OF US AND OUR CULTURE AND TRADITION. WE PRAY THAT THE KNIFE IS USED ONLY FOR GOOD AND IS NEVER DRAWN IN ANGER. WE PRAY THAT THE KNIFE SERVES THE OWNER WELL AND WITH THE HONOR AND TRADITION WE SEND WITH THE KNIFE.
My father-in-law, Kami Sherpa, served as a Gurkha in the Indian Army many years ago. Today, he is the owner of Himalayan Imports and is responsible for coordinating our khukuris needs with Bai Bishwakarma and the kamis of SE Nepal and is responsible for getting the knives from the outback of Nepal to the United States.
Last year Kami was down at the shop overseeing the final touches put on some special order swords and some of our standard khukuris. Kami planned to hand carry these swords to the United States himself via Northwest Airlines. Finally, the knives were ready. Bai had manufactured a large aluminum box to carry the long swords and the knives were ready for departure. It now came time for the blessing. Bai asked my father-in-law, Kami, if he wanted to participate in the blessing ceremony. Kami declined, saying that he had not helped in the manufacture of the knives and, further, that he had never really believed in the effectiveness of the bloodletting ceremony. Bai and the kamis proceeded with the ritual while Kami solemnly watched.
Kami carried the aluminum box filled with long swords, suitcases full of standard khukuris, 290 pounds in all, by bus, taxi and plane from the shop to Reno, Nevada. By the time Kami arrived in Reno the aluminum box of long swords was badly damaged -- dents, bends, rips and jagged edges. My wife, Yangdu, and I met Kami at the Reno airport. When it came time to load the aluminum box onto a baggage cart I couldn't help -- too heavy for my bad back -- so Kami and Yangdu each grabbed a handle attached to each end of the aluminum box. They picked up the box and then suddenly dropped it.
Yangdu and Kami both had cut their fingers on jagged edges of metal. There was blood on both handles of the aluminum box.
Kami turned to me and said, "It's the curse of those Gurkha Kamis." When we got home, everything unpacked, settled in with hot Sikkimese tea, Kami told me the entire story which I have just told you. We all had a nice laugh about the incident and I hope you do, also.
Uncle Bill
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There is an old legend or myth about the Gurkha and his khukuri which we have all heard and it goes like this: If a Gurkha draws his khukuri it must draw blood before it goes back into the scabbard.
Since a khukuri is a knife of many uses it is often drawn for reasons other than to kill or maim an enemy. Therefore, most often, the blood drawn is not that of an enemy but of the Gurkha himself and is done so by inflicting a small cut on thumb or finger. I am told by Gurkha friends in Nepal that this myth is largely untrue. Some Gurkhas, especially those of days long gone by, did adhere to this custom but many didn't so legend has it. But, today it is a rare Gurkha, indeed, who draws his own blood before returning a drawn khukuri to its scabbard. Having gone on record saying this I will now contradict myself in part and put the record straight.
Some kamis, the low caste Hindu who makes knives, become Gurkhas, just like Himalayan Imports number 1, Bai Bishwakarma. Kamis who value their heritage, that of being born a kami and inheriting the traditional family work of making khukuris and additionally of having Gurkha service, take their jobs seriously and many do, in fact, bless the knives they make by sprinking a few drops of their own blood onto newly manufactured khukuris. This procedure is followed by the kamis who make Himalayan Imports khukuris. Led by our number one and my adopted brother, Til, a kami with 400 years of family knifemaking history behind him and a 32 year veteran of Gurkha service, the ritual goes like this.
Til and the kamis who have worked on our knives cut their fingers and a few drops of blood are sprinkled on the Himalayan Imports khukuris before they leave on their 12,000 mile journey to the United States. The prayer or blessing that is sent with our knives goes something like this: A PART OF US HAS GONE INTO EACH KHUKURI, THUS GIVING THE KNIFE THE SPIRIT OF US AND OUR CULTURE AND TRADITION. WE PRAY THAT THE KNIFE IS USED ONLY FOR GOOD AND IS NEVER DRAWN IN ANGER. WE PRAY THAT THE KNIFE SERVES THE OWNER WELL AND WITH THE HONOR AND TRADITION WE SEND WITH THE KNIFE.
My father-in-law, Kami Sherpa, served as a Gurkha in the Indian Army many years ago. Today, he is the owner of Himalayan Imports and is responsible for coordinating our khukuris needs with Bai Bishwakarma and the kamis of SE Nepal and is responsible for getting the knives from the outback of Nepal to the United States.
Last year Kami was down at the shop overseeing the final touches put on some special order swords and some of our standard khukuris. Kami planned to hand carry these swords to the United States himself via Northwest Airlines. Finally, the knives were ready. Bai had manufactured a large aluminum box to carry the long swords and the knives were ready for departure. It now came time for the blessing. Bai asked my father-in-law, Kami, if he wanted to participate in the blessing ceremony. Kami declined, saying that he had not helped in the manufacture of the knives and, further, that he had never really believed in the effectiveness of the bloodletting ceremony. Bai and the kamis proceeded with the ritual while Kami solemnly watched.
Kami carried the aluminum box filled with long swords, suitcases full of standard khukuris, 290 pounds in all, by bus, taxi and plane from the shop to Reno, Nevada. By the time Kami arrived in Reno the aluminum box of long swords was badly damaged -- dents, bends, rips and jagged edges. My wife, Yangdu, and I met Kami at the Reno airport. When it came time to load the aluminum box onto a baggage cart I couldn't help -- too heavy for my bad back -- so Kami and Yangdu each grabbed a handle attached to each end of the aluminum box. They picked up the box and then suddenly dropped it.
Yangdu and Kami both had cut their fingers on jagged edges of metal. There was blood on both handles of the aluminum box.
Kami turned to me and said, "It's the curse of those Gurkha Kamis." When we got home, everything unpacked, settled in with hot Sikkimese tea, Kami told me the entire story which I have just told you. We all had a nice laugh about the incident and I hope you do, also.
Uncle Bill
