Thank you to the beautiful land of Nepal and all those amazing people that I have met during my 3.5 months of stay here. I have become more and more aware of the energy of the land, and this country is for sure a healing spot for the mind, soul, body, and emotions.
I could say a lot about everything, but I want to express my gratitude to those who were my first meeting when I arrived in Nagarkot and was heartbroken and devastated. Deepak, with his lovely food and genuine smile, made me feel at home in that small hilly Nagarkot.
Nagarkot used to be a retreat for the royal family of Nepal and a strategic military outpost to monitor external activity and protect the Kathmandu Valley. Perched on the rim of the valley at around 2,175 meters, it has long been valued for its panoramic views of the Himalayas — including Mount Everest on clear days — and its peaceful atmosphere, making it a beloved place for both royalty and visitors seeking reflection and respite.
Then there was Gorkhul, who reached out to me and initiated the fundraising for poor families in Nagarkot. I’ve initiated private fundraising every year since COVID, though last time, getting the money to the recipient was difficult ( but I managed at the end)— lack of bank accounts and official IDs are, sadly, common realities for many due to political neglect.
This time, I was lost in my own head, not planning to fundraise — but Gorkhul’s suggestion pulled me back into service. And doing service in any form is the best healing medicine. If you don’t believe me, try it for yourself.
This journey led me into some very, very humble Nepalese homes — homes of those who may not have economic fortune, but who walk with warm smiles.
I found myself staying with the amazing Tamang family at the Berg Hotel. After a while, it truly felt like home and Bhule, the owner of the Berg House, who runs the place together with his wife and sister-in-law, made my stay there as beautiful as it could be. His wife—a woman I came to deeply admire for the way she balanced her quiet power with genuine humbleness. And I don’t easily admire people.
Bhule saw me — really saw me — and though I don’t remember all he shared, I do remember he sent me to the footsteps of Shiva when I asked where I should trek.
Trekking Sacred Paths and Walking Into Inner Worlds
The first journey was to Gosaikunda Lake— starting from Nagarkot at 2,175 meters and trekking all the way up to the pass at 4,610 meters, before descending to Dunche. This trek wouldn’t have happened without my guide Arjun, who became like family — and family, as we know, can trigger us too. But the journey with him didn’t stop there.
After another suggestion from Bhule, we ventured deeper into the hills — to Panchpokhari, a place so untouched I felt like I was time-traveling. I was the only foreigner, walking alongside Nepalese pilgrims seeking Shiva and a break from the chaos of the valley.
The final stretch was exhausting. When we reached the lakes, the dormitory felt like a “human stable.” So we kept walking — up, up to the viewpoint — where a humble plastic hut stood, glowing with the touch of a woman. It wasn’t luxury, but it was home. A sacred, heart-touching contrast to the bleak dormitory below.
That final climb, the temple, and the silence of that hut offered one of the deepest inner experiences I’ve ever had. Some things don’t belong in words — they are meant to remain inner treasures.
Anyway, back to the human experience in the outer world—those treks with Arjun will remain in my memory as some of the most fun I’ve ever had. He was simply the best, even if there were moments we wanted to kill each other.
But my journey didn’t stop there. I returned and began volunteering at the Hare Krishna School in Budhanilkantha — a quiet, sacred part of Kathmandu nestled beneath the Shivapuri Hills. Known for its ancient statue of Lord Vishnu sleeping on a serpent in a sacred pond, the area is calm, spiritual, and deeply rooted in devotion.
There at the school, I met some of the most incredible women. I gained insight into the challenges of being a Nepalese woman in a transforming society — working full time, raising children, cooking, cleaning, and carrying the weight of tradition.
I was humbled by their endurance. And I was inspired by the teachers — real-life heroes — giving their all to their students and eager to explore creativity and playfulness in learning. My task was to help them bring more curiosity and imagination into their teaching.
I’ve come to call Nepal the country on the edge. Not just geographically — balanced between China and India — but emotionally, socially, and even physically. The roads to rural Nepal are a testament to survival. The drivers on these dangerous routes are unsung heroes, much like the educators & women, quietly holding society together.
Final Reflections, Loneliness in All Its Forms, and Nepal’s Healing Energy
Pokhara was my final stop before heading to Mount Kailash. Once a quiet trading town, now a peaceful lakeside retreat surrounded by the Annapurna range, Pokhara is known for its sacred caves, waterfalls, and spiritual stillness.
But my landing there was rough. Humidity swallowed me, my MacBook struck out from the heat, and nothing seemed to work. Even finalizing my payment for Mount Kailash was difficult. That journey deserves its own post.
In Nepal, I went deep under the skin of its people and society. And I saw how similar we are all over the world. Whether in Europe — where loneliness grows quietly in individualistic silence — or in tribal societies where the individual is drowned in collective expectations… there’s no perfect society.
In the West, you are “free” but lonely. In the East, you “belong” but are stifled. Which is better? I’m not here to answer that. I’m just observing.
But what I can say is this: every land carries an energy. Nepal carries a healing energy. An ancient one. One that comes alive when you leave the noise of the cities and walk into the hills.
And that is what I came here to find — and what I leave with in my heart.
People, Life, Politics And Bullshit 