Dali in Yunnan province is a little oasis of green and ‘Bai’ architecture. OK, the tourists, foreign and chinese alike have arrived here yet in the little alleyways of its ancient streets, one can still find the Dali that has not lost its soul to the tourist trade.

Flanked by Cang Shang mountain, paddy fields and the beautiful, calming Erhai Lake, it is no wonder that this is the place where many travellers spend a few weeks simply resting their tired bodies and regaining their strength before continuing the journey around China. China, afterall is a grand old country and requires a good storage of energy to travel from place to place. The ‘Bai’ people is the local ethnic minority group and the architecture and food is distinctively ‘Bai’. Old Chinese paintings depicting the landscapes around decorate the grey and white houses of the Bai people, the roofs of these houses often curl upward towards the sky, looking as if they may be lifted off the ground by a heavenly hand one day.

‘My love has simmered down from that of bursting fireworks to a slow flowing river stream.’ so says Wang Yong the wanderer whom I met at a small congee shack in Dali on a cold rainy afternoon.

Dressed in a sarong with a washed out thin black T-shirt and round black-rim glasses (think the Last Emperor Puyi and his glasses) Wang Yong is a striking character, he stands out amongst the crowd and his toothless grin is noticeable from a distance. Within a few minutes of our acquaintance, we have already immersed ourselves in endless jokes, giggled heartily and shared a cup of chinese tea kindly offered by the congee shack owner. The tiny congee shack is a little gem of a place amongst the tacky souvenir stores, it is decorated with chinese calligraphy scribbled all over the walls and the cement slab at the front of the shack can only sit 3 at a squeeze. The congee shack owner is not a local ‘Bai’ but from a northern province, she has escaped the stressful life of being a bridge engineer to the more casual living that Dali offers. With only 3 pots of congee to sell on a daily basis, there is little stress compared to her previous job.

As for Wang Yong, he considers himself very much an outsider of the society, merely glancing into the big brother machine. Travelling is in his blood he says, it is a fate he is propelled to pursue since the age of 15 when he first left home with only 300 yuan in his pocket. So began a journey of adventures, of being engaged in a one-time daylight robbery, experiencing the darkness and lightness of life, of having more than 100 lovers in his lifetime until now. Details, he did not spare and he shared with me the sparkling details of his love life, of falling in love with a nun and thereafter repenting to his Guru for his actions which he believed will have karmic effects.

Wang Yong is a lover at heart, this man who oozes poetry which I have the privilege of listening to in our brief encounter. Wang Yong is getting married to a Taiwanese girl he has met in Dali.

‘The love between my fiance and I is over. What is left is companionship. We will marry in August. I never thought a person like me will ever get married but here I am, about to be someone’s husband.’ he chuckles as he mutters this to me, the congee shack owner and another congee customer.

Yet another insight into the lives and wonders of unique individuals. I spent the afternoon laughing endlessly and it is only when the rain finally stopped after some 4-5 hours that I finally bid farewell to my new friends.

The spring city of South China, Kunming feels like a world away from hectic, sweaty Delhi. Here the temperature is so mild that it has healed the sticky pores of my body and cleansed it of the humidity which Delhi is full of. Kunming has the air of a relaxed middle aged man and the pace of life here is seldom hurried. Even the motorcycles seem to move silently across the city, unknowingly appearing miraculously beside a pedestrain in a cool and quiet manner.  

If China has a reputation for being dirty, then this is certainly not the place to spot it. The streets are almost spotlessly clean and buses, cars, bicycles and any other moving vehicle move in an organised fashion. There has been very little honking and this is something to adapt to after India and Nepal.  

For many tourists, the title of ’spring city’ does conjure up an image of flourishing trees, springs, mountains and traditional Chinese pavillions. This however cannot be found within Kunming city itself, the city is dominated instead by endless skyscrapers, concrete buildings and wide avenues. It is modelled like most Chinese cities (as I am to discover) after Hongkong and/or Shanghai, sparkling examples of progress, development and wealth - a model the Chinese, especially the government officials seek to attain regardless of the upheaval it may create.  

Nature however does exist in the charming green park north of the city. Here is a little oasis of spring, of calm and relaxation. Lily ponds litter the entire park, people come together to sing, dance and play music.Fortune tellers with pet parrots, photographers eager to help you pose in traditional outfits can all be found here and there is still space enough for everyone.  It is common to find a group of musicians accompanying a singer, blaring her lungs through a tiny microphone and speaker, competing for space with other singers nearby. Slightly outside of the city centre is the mountain of Xishan and Dianci Lake, which is a perfect escape from the city life if the lungs are in need of some fresh clean air.  

It is also here in Kunming where I tasted ‘Cross the Bridge noodles’ a speciality in Kunming. A huge bowl of broth (twice the size of my head) is served with 10 separate plates of thinly sliced ingredients of meat and vegetables. All you have to do is to put all the ingredients in this huge broth of soup and tuck the noodles (‘Mi xian’) in and there you have it - ‘Cross the bridge’ noodles. Delicious and extremely filling. This, by the way, is also the start of my culinary journey!!  

Here in Kunming whilst enroute to the the bus station to catch a bus to Dali, I had a chance encounter with a female taxi driver, ‘Zhaoyuan’. Hers is a story to be shared and told as it depicts how the escalating progress of China has created major upheaval in the lives of many including Zhaoyuan. It turned out that Zhaoyuan was a farmer living in the outskirts of Kunming only 4 years ago. Development and the ever expanding city of Kunming has however pushed her out of her own home and village. She lost not only her home and land but also her main source of income - farming. The government has not provided any form of compensation to her nor any other villagers whose lives were completely uprooted. 

Left without any source of income, she has to retrain and the easiest and quickest new skill she and many others discovered is driving. This is how she became a taxi driver, roaming the streets of Kunming for customers. Her husband, also a fellow driver, shares the taxi shifts so the vehicle usage is maximised but this means that they seldom have any time at all together.  

Zhaoyuan feels the injustice but there is nothing she can do to change her fate so acceptance and change is the only way out. As we drove past buildings that were recently demolished, there are bright, shiny boards up to display the skyscrapers that are going to be built. This, she pointed out is what the officials what - big, mega buildings to prove progress for the country. Asked if she missed her village life, she said ‘of course I do, i miss the vegetables that I grow, touching the land and being in the open.’

Armanath Yatra pilgrimage, Kashmir

By a twist of fate, luck and karma, I am now sitting in a police tent amidst glacier mountains. It is minus zero and I am writing this now with semi frozen fingers. It is evening, the sun has been slowly sinking an inch at a time and we are slowly getting ready for a cold evening ahead.

The sound of the generators are buzzing outside our tent, providing what little precious electricity we can get. Sounds of laughter and chatter can be heard as mountaineering policemen and some newcomers(mountaineering students) are setting up a big bonfire outside. 

This is the midway point of an ancient yatra (journey) pilgrimage route. Each year tens and thousands of devout Hindus attempt this dangerous and high altitude mountainous trek to reach a holy cave where Lord Shiva’s lingam lies encrusted in ice during the summer months.According to Hindu mythology, this is the cave where Lord Shiva told about the secret of Life and eternity to His divine consort Parvati and hence this shrine holds a very special value to the Hindus. Hindus from all walks of life, caste and wealth rub shoulders to attempt this brave journey of great faith and belief. It is a long 32 km trek over 3 to 5 days, not an easy feat even for the healthy and strong.

Throughout the journey, you can see Babas in their distinct orange robes, some walking barefoot on rocks, snow and glaciers. Old grandmothers in their saris either walking by foot with the aid of walking sticks or by a people carrier-a wooden/wicker seat normally carried by four people. Those who are less fit or able go on horses, led by Kashmiri horsemen who knows the terrain at the back of their hands. Pilgrims who are handicap also attempt this journey, many without an arm or leg and one or two are practically crawling with the aid of their upper bodies to make it to the Holy Cave. I deeply salute these people who with their deep faith and devotion has brought them here. On day 6 of my stay there, some 13 people have died. Hindus believe that if one dies on an Armanath yatra, then this will be of great blessing to the individual.

The journey brings pilgrims through stunning glaciers, gushing waterfalls, the awe inspiring Shesna lake and deep mountain valleys, it is truly a sight to behold.

The mood is upbeat despite of the pilgrims’ tired bodies. All throughout, pilgrims greet each other with shouts of ‘Jai Bhole’ or ‘Bam Bam Bhole’ (Rejoice, Praise to Lord Shiva) Even Kashmiri horsemen participate in the pilgrims’ rejoicing despite of their Muslim background. Generosity is also in abundance. ‘Langhas’ (community kitchens) provide free food to all pilgrims, these food stalls are ladden with all varieties of Indian delicacies from freshly fried poori, briyani to mountains of Indian sweets. It is truly a feast and with devotion music blaring out of the loudspeakers throughout the 32km route, it seems at times like a big party.

Now how I got here in the first place is truly a once in a lifetime experience. Hard to believe but i have been smuggled in by some 20+ mountaineering policemen arriving in a big fenced up police bus. It is through the kindness and generosity of two policemen - Jigmet and Nyamgal whom I have met on my journey from Leh to Shrinigar (Kashmir) that I had this opportunity to embark on this journey. They are on duty to rescue pilgrims who are either sick or have difficulties making the trek, it is a remarkable operation that involves great compassion, patience and strength. When I got involved in a 1 day rescue operation, I have seen pilgrims who were suffering from altitude sickness, others were cold from insufficient clothing and inappropriate footwear or are too old and frail to make the journey without help. So these mountaineering policemen work is extremely crucial for the weak and frail and it is work that brings much joy and satisfaction to these officers.

The policemen and I became friends quickly and when they offered to bring me on this pilgrimage, it was too tempting an offer to decline.

So started my one week adventure in the Kashmiri mountains, with army officers, policemen and pilgrims. With great blessings, I also made it to the cave, even escaping a 2km long queue due to special police privileges. There is hardly time to see in detail Lord Shiva’s holy lingam but just being there has been a great experience and blessing.

So I say a deepfelt thank you to all my policemen friends and to Lord Shiva. May all pilgrims make it safe to the Holy Cave and may those who have perished enroute rest in peace.

You can almost touch the heavens here in Ladakh with your fingers if you tried hard enough. The sun pierces through the crystal blue skies, soaking every single pore of our being.  At such high altitude of more than 3500m, the sun rays here have little mercy on the physical body and the respiratory system.

The journey from the Swiss-like landscape town of Manali (dotted with Alpine trees and soaring mountains) to Ladakh was ever changing and every corner we turned was a visual feast to the eyes. Winding through raw, stark, roaring mountains with remnants of snow and glaciers from the winter months to chunks of desert mountains, this truly felt like we have come to the end of the world. Whilst approaching Leh (capital of Ladakh) the landscape dramatically transformed into jagged red sand mountains, melting into the river stream dissolving the gushing water into a deep maroon colour. It was quite a sight to behold.

This is not to say the ride wasn’t painful - 18 hours of a bumpy ride passing through some very high altitude (5000m at one point!) is a great test on the body and soul. And what with being in a jeep packed with Ladakhi/Tibetan soldiers on vacation singing their way through their journey in Hindi and Tibetan whilst letting out some rather stinky altitude farts!

What more can I say about Leh except it is definitely not conventional India. Ladakh used to belong to the Tibetan kingdom before it is being sold off to India.The old Leh Palace overlooks the city and from here, the entire surrounding landscape is in full view. The desert-like buildings below are like mere dots, winding vehicles like toy cars, human figures almost impossible to see from up here. One could almost imagine being a celestial being looking down on earth and human life.

And the skies here are of the bluest of blue hue. Fluffly white clouds cast varying shadows on the mountains, it is a view of constant change.

The Ladakhi people are friendly, kind and peaceful, at least from what i have experienced so far. Even sweet talking, persuasive Kashmiri sellers are quite subdued here. Perhaps the enormous landscape does have the ability to make even the loud and proud humble.

The highlight here is not merely the landscape and scenery but of my chance encounter with a Ladakhi family, whom i met whilst trying to hitch a ride back to Leh after visiting the famous Thiksey monastery. They were kind enough to accommodate a foreigner in the mini van they hired. It turned out they were doing a mini pilgrimage tour on full moon day (15 June) and before  I knew it, I was part of the family excursion, having the privilege of getting to know the locals better, visiting more spectacular monasteries and having a family picnic in a barren field with cows and donkeys munching on our picnic food. I cannot begin to describe the warmth and friendliness of these people, especially to a stranger they hardly knew. 

So this is heaven in Ladakh, of soaring mountains, clearest blue skies and warm-hearted people. 

I wish you well my friends and hope this new entry finds you well.

On this mountain hill top where prayer flags flap in the wind and the Himalayan mountains loom endlessly lies the residence of His Holiness the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan refugee community in exile.

At last after a short plane ride from Nepal and a hair-raising 15 hour bus journey under the capable hands of an Indian driver, I finally arrived in Dharamsala. A place I have always dreamt about coming to but never thought i would come. Where the Tibetan community lives, I seem to follow all the way from Nepal to India. Momos (dumplings) and Thukpas (noodle soup) are never far from sight.

This place reminds me very much of Boudhanath in Nepal. It can be said that Boudhanath feels much grander due to the presence of its stupa but Dharamsala feels as if one is at the heart of the Tibetan community outside of Tibet. No doubt His Holiness the Dalai Lama is the main reason for this. With busloads of tourists coming everyday, it also has the feel of a backpacker zone with internet cafes, international cuisine restaurants and souvenir stalls residing side by side its narrow alleyways.

It is probably amongst the mountains and valleys that the Tibetans feel most at home as every Tibetan colony I have visited so far are either nestled in the mountains or has a grand view of the mountain peaks.

I have the great pleasure of spending afternoons here in Dharamsala volunteering at English conversational classes, speaking to nuns, monks and the local Tibetan refugee community. We talked about everything under the sun but the topics centered heavily around China and Tiber, human rights and politics. This is the concern of every single Tibetan. There is no outward aggression towards the Chinese population itself but a disheartened, unjust feeling I detected about the heavy handed ways of the Chinese government and its aggressive policies.

A trip to the Tibet museum one afternoon left me in tears at the plight of these people. Monasteries destroyed, buddhist scriptures burnt, Tibetans being mercilessly tortured with the most inhumane methods.

Most of the Tibetans here, nuns and monks included have dreams of migrating elsewhere. When we went around the group the first day sharing dreams of migration, one mentioned Canada, another Greece, then Taiwan etc and all for varying reasons. Canada because Karma the nun heard it’s a lovely place with mountains and pleasant people. Greece because one monk (whom I call ‘Cheeky Monkey’) is interested in Greek philosophy and Taiwan because an opportunity has come about for a young Tibetan refugee to move there. Only 1 out of the group mentioned he wanted to go back to Lhasa but only after travelling the world. His name is Tsering and it is also Tsering who has escaped Tibet to India by foot via Nepal, a journey which took a total of 25 days trekking through mountains and dangerous passes. With great blessings, he has escaped the Chinese army throughout the entire journey. What a story of courage and endurance.

These people are worried, worried about the eradication of the Tibetan culture in Tibet. The Chinese population are moving in droves into Tibet, very quickly reducing the Tibetans as a minority in their homeland. History has repeated itself, haven’t the Red Indians in America and the Aborigines in Australia suffered the same sad fate.. Also Tibetan language is no longer taught in schools nor is the buddhist path of morality and compassion which is at the core of the Tibetan culture. A whole generation of young Tibetans raised with Chinese and consumer values are emerging. This is a deeply worrying trend amongst the Tibetans here. I feel so helpless at the plight of these people.

With the careful and compassionate guidance of His Holiness the Dalai Lama, advocating for peace and harmony and the Middle Way (two countries, one system) the Tibetan community here seemed largely peaceful on the surface but speaking to the locals have revealed a deep sense of frustration and a sense of urgency at their situation. If the Tibetan culture and spiritual life is to be saved, then time is of the essence.

Each conversational class has brought new insights into the lives of the Tibetans here in Dharamsala and elsewhere in India. It is a great learning, a small peek into the lives of these people.

I hope the prayer flags that flap in the air and delivers the prayer of ‘OM MANI PEDME HUM’ will free these people one day.

In Boudhanath where the famous stupa lies, life pulsates beneath the watchful eyes of Buddha. Tibetan monks, nuns, locals and tourists alike circumnavigate the enormous stupa in a clockwise direction, muttering mantras with their malas (beads) and from time to time turn the prayer wheels which has the mantra OM MANI PEDME HUM imprinted on it (May wisdom and compassion arise in me to benefit all sentient beings)

Souvenir stores and shops dedicated to selling wares essential for the Tibetan Buddhist lives surround the stupa. Unlike elsewhere in Kathmandu, there is no hassling here, just gentle calmness and peace not only amongst those who are praying but this extends to the store owners too. In the back alleys, craftsmen are busy at work churning out brass statues of buddhas and multiple deities for spiritual life. Close by Tibetan restaurants easily identified by their door curtains are humbly churning out momos (dumplings) and thukpa (noodle soups) The Tibetan community who have settled here since the Chinese occupation in 1959 is clearly thriving and strongly maintaining their culture heritage.

The atmosphere here is one of comfort, safety and home.

It is here at Boudhanath that I spent several hours with a monk and even had a cup of tea with a highly respected Lama.

It is on the third day of being in Boudhanath after descending from Kopan monastery that I met the Tibetan monk, Tashi in the local Yak restaurant. Monks and locals mingled comfortably and not before too long, I started chatting with the waiter barely 18 years old and already working. He is only single mindedly interested in one thing - and that is how to carve a better living for himself out of Nepal. His aspiration is so common amongst the Nepali youth. With gloomy job prospects, a corrupted government, the only way for a better future is to get out of the country. The other day whilst visiting Pashupati which is a mini version of Varanasi in India, a sacred place where the dead are wrapped, burnt and set free in the Holy River, there was an endless queue of young Nepalis eagerly applying for jobs in South Korea. It is an image of young expectant faces so desperate to get out of their country of birth.

The waiter’s cousin, Tashi, a monk from South India joined us in our conversation. Rarely have I felt alone or lonely on this journey, there is always someone who prompted by curiosity, will strike up a conversation within minutes. In his maroon and yellow robes, Tashi is every bit a Tibetan monk in attire. 

It turned out that Tashi is learning English in Boudhanath and he is very keen to speak to tourists to improve his English. We agreed that we will meet again the next day and do a little exchange of touring monasteries and speaking English. As always, random coincidences simply occur as if intended by a twist of fate and coincidence.

Although I sometimes struggle to understand Tashi, the communication loopholes are fixed by much gesturing from both sides. Tashi left Tibet at the age of 11 years old to come to India and has been a monk in one of the Tibetan monasteries in South India. As almost his entire life has been dedicated to Buddhism, it has been difficult for him to learn English hence why he is here in Nepal to spend his holidays attending English classes and speaking to tourists as much as he can. His family is still in Tibet but ever since leaving Tibet he has not had the opportunity to see them as his visa entry is repeatedly denied. A story I am to hear again and again both in Nepal and India. 

Our day ended with a cup of Masala tea and an exchange of ideas and cultures. A memorable day, another insight and understanding of the Tibetans in exile.

Thank you Tashi.

The rain is slowly trickling outside my window pane in this dusty guesthouse. The walls are made up of cardboard with half inserted nails still protruding out of the cardboard walls.There is no electricity and I am writing this with a headlamp strapped to my forehead. It is only 7:30pm in the evening, it feels like 10pm especially after a long day trekking up and down gigantic mountains. Most of the guests, porters and guides have retired to bed just as I have.

Outside in the darkness are the looming mountains of Annapurna which I managed to catch a glimpse of before darkness arrived. The views are remarkable, indescribable in mere words, just simply stunning. A snapshot even with the most superb camera just wouldn’t do it justice. Even in the night, I could feel their presence and tomorrow I am looking forward to enjoying their presence once more.

The trek, despite only being merely 5 days has been long and hard, especially for a novice! Every day we trekked for 5 to 7 hours up and down mountains, through valleys, forests and plenty of local villages. Rik, my fellow traveller has termed the steep mountains we climb as ‘the never-ending steps’. On the first day, with the careful guidance of my porter who is never far from sight, we finally arrived at Ulleri. A well deserved meal and a good night’s rest awaited us.

Day two is slightly easier with gentler altitudes to climb but nevertheless still relentless. We passed many working donkeys, buffaloes including some really handsome looking roosters and chickens along the way. Never have I seen chickens looking so healthy, their feathers are shining with hues of black, white and green. These proud creatures blossom in these surroundings, such a different sight to the chickens reared for the single purpose of our roast dinners. This is the true habitat of chicks!

When we finally arrived at Ghorepani, we were rewarded once more with the views of the Annapurna South snow capped mountains on one side and the Dhaulgiri mountains on the other. We felt like ants when faced with such enormous beauty.

Nothing is going to prepare us for the steep climb to Poonhill at 4 am in the morning on the 3rd day of our trek. It is steep, dark and a hard, long uphill climb. After almost 45minutes of what seemed like the steepest climb in our trek, we finally reached Poonhill. This is the place to view the Himalayan mountains of Annapurna South And Dhaulgiri in its full glory. We are very blessed on this day, the clouds which originally shrouded the mountains parted ways and the sun poured rays of sunshine on the mountain peaks. It was truly a sight to behold. During the pre-monsoon season, sights like these are really hard to come by.

After descending from Poonhill and experiencing rather wobbly knees, we were treated to a carbohydrate filled breakfast before continuing the trek onwards to Tatapani. The food menu is consistently the same in these mountain guest houses that by the end of the trek, we could practically memorise the contents of the menu. This consisted mainly of Nepali local staples such as the famous Daal Baht (vegetable curry with rice and pickles, similar to the Indian Thali), momos (tibetan dumplings), fried rice and noodles alongside a variety of Western dishes such as pasta and roast meats. The culinary skill varies greatly despite the uniformity of the menu. One evening, we ordered lasagne and this barely resembled lasgne that we knew…it was a hot sizzling plate fiilled with spagetti with plenty of cheese and tomato. The italians will be truly shocked at the sight of this :)

Along the trek, we saw numerous fellow trekkers with guides or porters. Some of the porters had backpacks that were 3 times their size hanging on their backs, a rope strapped around their forehead helped to ease the weight. How I felt sorry at the plight for these porters, even if they are paid to do the job, they are just as human as we are and I felt strongly they should not be carrying this enormous weight that is almost 3 times their size. But there is nothing we can do except be kind to our own porter. He only had a small backpack which made everyone think he is a guide!

The trek to Tatapani almost shattered our already weary bodies. We were going uphill to a mountain before descending once more to the bottom and continuing the climb up to another mountain. Relentless it was but we were rewarded with countless views of rice terraces, lush forests, waterfalls and rocky valleys. How else besides trekking could we have seen such views! We kept reminding ourselves this when the uphill climb starts again and each step required a huge amount of concentrated effort.

On day 4 we decided to change route and head towards the hot spring town of Jhinu. Our tired bodies would welcome the hot springs surely. The 5-6 hours trek must be worth it! This turned out not only to be a hot spring day but an animal spotting day. Enroute, we saw a forest monkey! His body robust with a black face and white fur surrounding his face. He snarled at us, i hope it was his way of saying hello to sweaty trekkers. Upon reaching the next village of Chinu enroute to Jhinu, we witnessed eagles and condors swirling around the sky, seeking for their next prey. On this trekking route, we saw much fitter trekkers, most of who were heading towards the Annapurna Base Camp. Some fellow trekkers (who were looking super fit) were attempting to complete this in 6 days, a feat I truly admired.

Finally we arrived at Jhinu, the hot springs were a real treat. It is a 20 minutes downhill walk to the riverbed where the hot springs sat side by side to a gushing rocky river valley. Soaking in a piping hot spring against the backdrop of the valley, forests and mountains felt like absolute bliss.

Day 5 - our last and final day of trekking. The thought of the last day brings a slight tinge of sadness but also a deep sense of relieft. This is no doubt the most strenuous activity I have ever attempted in my entire life! We started at 7:30am and ended the trek only at 6:30pm that very day. It rained midway through the trek, making the terrain extremely dangerous and slippery to walk. Luckily this stopped in an hour and we can continue on to reach the end of the journey.

With not a single blister encountered and only a few slight slips, we made it. For novices like my fellow trekker Rik and myself, it was a real feat. We are looking forward to a warm bed, clean clothings and a meal that is not Daal Baaht, Spaghetti or Chowmein!! :)

Chance encounters are beautiful, random and simply a gift of life.

After an afternoon of visiting the medieval village of Braktapur in the Kathmandu Valley filled with ancient Newari palaces and temples, I headed towards tourist hub of Thamel to meet new friends on another hair-raising bus ride. Nepali drivers are as fearless as their Indian counterparts. The young bus conductor shouts out destinations at every stop with half his body hanging out of the entrance of the bus. With a commanding tone of voice, he shuffles passengers in with absolute speed and skill.

After a mere 40 minutes ride I was dropped off at the dusty bus station in Central Kathmandu. People, fumes, vehicles and peddlers gather at this busy junction. Completely lost at the sight of a footbridge that splits into eight different directions, I attempted the usual ‘ask a friendly local’ approach. It is on this confusing maze like footbridge that I met Saajan and Ajay who so kindly directed me the way. In fact their kindness extended to leading me the entire way to Thamel since they were themselves enroute to the same district.

We weaved past fruit sellers, a weighing service peddler (provided by no other than a weighing scale on the street), endless pedestrians before the path finally straightened and stores selling Thangka paintings, singing bowls and all forms of outdoor gear were in sight. This is inevitably the start of the tourist hub of Thamel in Kathmandu.,

It was on this meandering walk that I begun to get to know these Nepali youth. Ajay has just completed his bachelor degree in business management and is now looking for a job, which is terribly hard to come by in modern day Nepal. It’s a tale you hear over and over again in Nepal. With the unstable political situation and rampant corruption, not only are jobs hard to come by but basic amenities such as electricity and water is scarce.

Saajan is still studying in university and like Ajay his future in Nepal is rather bleak. It turned out that both are cousins with only 3 years apart each other. They were enroute to visit Ajay’s sister who has a shop in Thamel which when we passed by it was closed. We decided that having some Fantas to cool our bodies from the sweltering heat was a great idea.

It turned out that I am about to spend a delightful afternoon with two young people who are passionate about their culture and who are absolutely conscious of the need to keep this alive. Saajan and Ajay told me they had just enjoyed the 3 most amazing days of their life, dancing, playing traditional music and drinking to the wee hours of the morning in the medieval town of Patan where they lived. Their faces brightened as they spoke about the fun they had. They felt that the Nepali youth of their generation are no longer interested in their own culture and very quickly their culture is going to wither away with the increasing influx of Western influence. Hence their passion is to embrace the old and keep it alive by building traditional instruments and participating in the cultural house in Patan. Both told me they love Patan with their heart and soul and could not think of living anywhere else. Although the plight of unemployment and a deeply corrupted government may soon be sending them across to foreign shores adding to the brain drain of Nepal.

As were were chatting with cooling Fantas, there were both electricity and water cuts. This is a daily occurrence for Nepalis. In some places, it is common to go without electricity for 14 hours a day. In the tourist areas, having a cooling banana lassi is dependent on whether there is electricity.

Despite all this, both have such resilience and strength and whatever that may come, i have no doubt they will take it in their stride.

Thank you Ajan and Saajan

Prayer flags (Taken with instagram)