My First Encounter with Kathmandu: A Journey of Excitement, Culture Shocks, and Unexpected Reunions
A Journey of Excitement
Have you ever wondered, when you visit a place like Pokhara for a bit of peace and tranquillity, where do the locals go to find the same feeling? Surely, you have thought about this, haven’t you? Oh, wait, you haven’t noticed it yet? No worries, let me take you on a different journey altogether.
I was thrilled the first time I was “elected” to visit Kathmandu. A teenager like me, heading to the capital city it was a big deal. The days started to feel longer, and I couldn’t sleep properly at night, my mind buzzing excitedly. In my head, I painted a grand picture of Kathmandu, planning all the places I’d visit. Oh, yes, “plans.” Speaking of plans, it reminds me of my school days when we studied Mahakavi Laxmi Prasad Devkota. I distinctly remember learning that he was a lecturer at Tri-Chandra College. Back then, I decided: that when I visit Kathmandu for the first time, my first stop would be this iconic college. I was manifesting it already the first destination was set, and the rest could follow.
Now, if you’re stuck on the word “elected,” let me clarify. I wasn’t chosen by votes but rather by my availability. I was to accompany Grandpa for his medical treatment in the capital. Did I care about how I was “elected”? Not at all I was going to Kathmandu!
For us, the excitement of visiting Kathmandu for the first time is akin to a rite of passage. It’s one of those life-defining moments, and for me, it was certainly blog-worthy. Hence, my opening question.
Finally, the big day arrived (I could tell you the exact date, but let’s keep some suspense alive). We chose a day bus so I wouldn’t miss a single view during the journey. As the bus neared Kathmandu, the excitement turned into nervousness. By the time we reached Gongabu Bus Park at around 7 PM, it was dark, and the once excited teenager was clueless about what to do next.
All I had was a landline number scribbled in my contact diary. The instructions from mom were simple: call this number once you reach, and you’ll know what to do. Easy, right? Not quite. It turned out no buses were heading to Lokanthali at that hour, and to make matters worse, no one was answering the phone, primarily “Mama”. Grandpa and I stood there, trying every number we had. With each failed attempt, my excitement gave way to tension. Finally, at 8 PM, someone answered. The man on the other end gently instructed us to take a tempo to Gaushala Police Station, where he would meet us.
The same contact diary I used to call people on that day. I still have it. Old school but yeah, works like a charm
The first reunion
So, we got on a tempo and made our way to Gaushala. As we arrived, the unexpected happened I spotted my childhood best friend, my chuddy buddy along with his father, waiting for us. I mean I called his father for help but I hadn’t imagined my friend himself would be there. We were meeting after a decade or at least if felt like a decade, and we hugged and asked about our whereabouts. Uncle arranged a taxi to Lokanthali, gave the driver clear instructions, and bid us farewell. It was a short meeting with my darling but brought back lots of memories. He is no new to you guys, check my comment section of posts and he has commented on almost all of the posts and I am sure he does it here as well 😊.
The taxi ride was the reason I have the reference of the exact date. The radio played “Ritu Haru Ma Timi Hariyali Basanta Hau” by Arun Thapa. As one song ended, another of his began, and then another. Curious, I asked the driver why only Arun Thapa’s songs were playing that too on the radio. He replied being gloomy, “He just passed away today, so the stations are honouring him.” That’s how I know the date, It was on 22nd July 1999.
When we reached the location uncle had described, the landmarks matched his description shops, houses, everything. Yet, no one seemed to know my mama. I wandered from one person to another, asking, “Do you know where mama (name) lives?” Each time, I got a shake of the head. Frustrated and unsure what to do, I called the uncle again, this time uncle and brother of my darling friend came and this time, he decided to come and guide us himself to mama’s house.
Cultural Shocks
When he arrived, it took just 10 seconds to reach the house ten seconds! The house was right there the whole time. That’s when my second cultural shock hit me: how could people in Kathmandu not recognise their neighbours? Back in my village, you could ask anyone about someone, and they’d not only know the person but also give you precise directions to their home. (The first cultural shock? The steep taxi and tempo fares. We paid Rs. 275 each for the bus ride to Kathmandu, but within the city, we ended up spending out Rs. 800 already for just a couple of short rides.)
Over the next few days, the initial excitement faded off. Grandpa’s daily hospital visits left me with little to do. Kathmandu felt alien. Another shock came when I strolled through the streets with my cousins, only to hear people casually throwing around swear words. In the village, this would be unthinkable. Slowly, though, I adjusted. Humans adapt quickly, don’t they?
After a few days, the excitement began to fade really fast. The daily routine of going from home to the hospital and back felt monotonous. I had no idea where to visit, and my initial enthusiasm seemed to vanish. Then, out of nowhere, came the highlight of the trip a surprise that changed everything about the trip.
One fine morning, the doorbell rang. When I opened the door, there stood my best friend, Raju. I was stunned. How on earth did he find me here? It felt surreal. The connection? Well, the elder brother of my childhood friend (who met in Gaushala after a decade?) happened to be Raju’s mate. When they crossed paths, my friend’s brother casually mentioned, “Rustam is in Kathmandu.” That was all Raju needed. Without wasting a moment, he showed up at my door.
Raju’s arrival transformed the trip. We spent hours together, laughing and exploring the city. To my surprise, another bestie, my “philosopher buddy,” joined us. He isn’t just any friend he is our very own “Maa-Saab.” For context, Raju nicknamed him after Shahbaz Khan’s character in Arjun Pandit, who calls Sunny Deol “Maa-Saab” (short for Master Sahab). A vet doctor, a teacher, and a jack of all trades, If you gave him a handful of sand, he’d find a way to sell it in a desert. he is also a childhood friend of Raju’s, and somehow, this lucky reunion came together. Meet my other bestie, Kisan.
And what about Tri-Chandra College, you ask?
Well, I never got to visit it. Manifestation failed me, or maybe Kathmandu had other plans for my first trip. By the way the visit is still a due.
Superb job! Informative content presented in a clean, readable format.
Such a beautiful story! The excitement, the surprises, and the cultural shocks really bring Kathmandu to life. Loved reading about your journey!
Awww, such a beautifully described journey! That Gongabu incident, waiting an hour with no clue what to do, really annoyed me but that is exactly why true friends exists and you’re one those luckiest to have amazing friends by your side.
गजब लेखाई , त्यो दिनमा पुरायो!!
Despite the challenges and emotions conveyed, your words truly captured the essence of the moment you experienced. It was beautifully written, and I couldn’t stop reading until I reached the end.
This was such an enjoyable read! What an incredible first experience .
I like it
Wow beautifully written brother, your writing took me back into 1999. Still to stay precise with such details are amazing.