Ready to rock: More than 17,000 young Nepalis took the doko test last year in an attempt to win one of 230 places in the Gurkhas Photo: GETTY IMAGES
For nearly a century, it has been a test that has wrung a smile from even the most sadistic British Army recruiting sergeant. Weighed down with 58lb of rocks, would-be members of the Gurkha Regiment run three miles up a Himalayan mountain track, bearing their load not in a rucksack but in a doko, a wicker basket carried only via a strap across the forehead.
Like thousands of other young Nepalis hoping to succeed in this summer's annual intake, Sundar Adhikara, 20, has already trained hard enough to complete the doko test within the requisite 48 minutes: his best, so far, is 35. Yet now another obstacle is looming to his dream of joining the historic regiment – Nepal's newly elected government wants to scrap it altogether.The threat comes from the country's powerful Maoists, who swept to office in April amid growing discontent at the poverty that entry into the Gurkhas has long provided an escape route from. Last week they abolished the 240-year-old monarchy, ordering King Gyanendra to vacate his palace in downtown Kathmandu. But royalty is not the only institution at odds with their far-Left agenda: they also view the Gurkhas as a "militia" from the imperial age."Shameful activities like the employment of Nepalis in foreign armed services like the British Gurkhas need to be stopped," declared a pledge in the Maoist election manifesto. "All Nepalis should take up respectful and useful jobs inside the country itself."However, with the average Nepali earning less than £300 a year, there is little popular support for dismantling the Gurkhas, who have traditionally enjoyed huge status among their fellow countrymen.Just how coveted the regiment is becomes clear from the application rates to the British Army's official recruitment centre in the mountain-ringed city of Pokhara. Last year, more than 17,000 Nepalese youths applied for just 230 places.So great, indeed, is the competition for places that a thriving industry now exists in private colleges that groom would-be recruits for the intake test – the equivalent of the "crammers" that help students get into Oxford and Cambridge.Mr Adhikara is one of several hundred pupils enrolled at Bull's Gym in Kathmandu, where a banner above the gate promises "British Army physical training and education for potential recruits".The three-month course, including basic maths and English, costs 20,000 Nepali rupees (£150), a large sum for his family, but well worth the investment if he qualifies for the regiment, where he will earn five times that per month."In Nepal, it is a great glory to be in the British Army, the most advanced in the world," he said. "Nobody else from my family has ever joined, and I want to set an example."Even to get through the door of Bull's Gym, recruits have to meet strict criteria: they must be between 17 and 21, be at least 5ft 2in tall and have no more than two fillings in their teeth.Trainees then attend two-hour sessions at dawn and dusk daily, studying English and maths and also mastering other fitness benchmarks: 70 sit-ups in two minutes, and 14 chin-ups in a row.The gym was set up in 1994 by Krishna Kumar Pun, 46, previously a PT instructor as Cpl Pun 62970 of 2/2 Gurkha Regiment."I set it up because I knew exactly what recruits would need to learn," he said. "But it isn't just about fitness – recruits will only get in if they have the necessary self-discipline."The Army's acquaintance with the Gurkhas goes back almost 200 years, when officers were astonished by the toughness of the Nepali mountain fighters who made incursions into colonial territory in India.Britain co-opted them into its imperial forces, and during the two world wars, the Gurkhas suffered 43,000 casualties and won 26 Victoria Crosses – more than any other regiment. Recently they have seen fierce fighting against the Taliban in Afghanistan.Whether that relationship will now end for ever remains to be seen. In recent weeks, the Maoist politicians appear to have backed off their manifesto pledge, saying the regiment is a subject for "discussion" rather than imminent abolition.Britain's Ministry of Defence hopes they may eventually decide against it, as does Mr Pun. "This tradition is about 200 years old," he said, pointing with a burly forearm to the photos of successful former pupils that deck his office walls. "It would be nice if it continued."
Like thousands of other young Nepalis hoping to succeed in this summer's annual intake, Sundar Adhikara, 20, has already trained hard enough to complete the doko test within the requisite 48 minutes: his best, so far, is 35. Yet now another obstacle is looming to his dream of joining the historic regiment – Nepal's newly elected government wants to scrap it altogether.
The threat comes from the country's powerful Maoists, who swept to office in April amid growing discontent at the poverty that entry into the Gurkhas has long provided an escape route from. Last week they abolished the 240-year-old monarchy, ordering King Gyanendra to vacate his palace in downtown Kathmandu. But royalty is not the only institution at odds with their far-Left agenda: they also view the Gurkhas as a "militia" from the imperial age.
"Shameful activities like the employment of Nepalis in foreign armed services like the British Gurkhas need to be stopped," declared a pledge in the Maoist election manifesto. "All Nepalis should take up respectful and useful jobs inside the country itself."
However, with the average Nepali earning less than £300 a year, there is little popular support for dismantling the Gurkhas, who have traditionally enjoyed huge status among their fellow countrymen.
Just how coveted the regiment is becomes clear from the application rates to the British Army's official recruitment centre in the mountain-ringed city of Pokhara. Last year, more than 17,000 Nepalese youths applied for just 230 places.
Mr Adhikara is one of several hundred pupils enrolled at Bull's Gym in Kathmandu, where a banner above the gate promises "British Army physical training and education for potential recruits".
The three-month course, including basic maths and English, costs 20,000 Nepali rupees (£150), a large sum for his family, but well worth the investment if he qualifies for the regiment, where he will earn five times that per month.
"In Nepal, it is a great glory to be in the British Army, the most advanced in the world," he said. "Nobody else from my family has ever joined, and I want to set an example."
Even to get through the door of Bull's Gym, recruits have to meet strict criteria: they must be between 17 and 21, be at least 5ft 2in tall and have no more than two fillings in their teeth.
Trainees then attend two-hour sessions at dawn and dusk daily, studying English and maths and also mastering other fitness benchmarks: 70 sit-ups in two minutes, and 14 chin-ups in a row.
The gym was set up in 1994 by Krishna Kumar Pun, 46, previously a PT instructor as Cpl Pun 62970 of 2/2 Gurkha Regiment.
"I set it up because I knew exactly what recruits would need to learn," he said. "But it isn't just about fitness – recruits will only get in if they have the necessary self-discipline."
The Army's acquaintance with the Gurkhas goes back almost 200 years, when officers were astonished by the toughness of the Nepali mountain fighters who made incursions into colonial territory in India.
Britain co-opted them into its imperial forces, and during the two world wars, the Gurkhas suffered 43,000 casualties and won 26 Victoria Crosses – more than any other regiment. Recently they have seen fierce fighting against the Taliban in Afghanistan.
Whether that relationship will now end for ever remains to be seen. In recent weeks, the Maoist politicians appear to have backed off their manifesto pledge, saying the regiment is a subject for "discussion" rather than imminent abolition.
Britain's Ministry of Defence hopes they may eventually decide against it, as does Mr Pun. "This tradition is about 200 years old," he said, pointing with a burly forearm to the photos of successful former pupils that deck his office walls. "It would be nice if it continued."