When my mother woke me up and asked me whether I'd like to go to Lamjung on the Saturday morning of 26 April 2008, my first inclination was to say 'no'. But then, I remembered the eight hours of load shedding that was scheduled that day. Who says load shedding isn't productive? It surely drove me to utter "yes" in a sleepy voice.  My mother hadn't been to Lamjung for 28 years and I hadn't been there at all!
We traveled by van, joined by some of our relatives, to the land from which my maternal grandmother hails. The beautiful panorama and the dark green Trishuli along the highway brought my love of nature out in me.
I felt extremely energetic as we whizzed past the curves of the highway and marveled at the beauty surrounding it.
Once we reached Damauli, from where a small road would take us to Bhorletar VDC, we faced a problem we hadn't encountered before. The road was very rough and our van couldn't carry the load of nine passengers it had been ferrying throughout our trip. My maternal uncle and I volunteered to walk the remaining six hours to the village. As we hiked through the shortcuts leading through the forests, I was dumb-struck by the beauty of Lamjung. The wilderness and serenity of the forests, was accentuated rather than disturbed by the chirping of birds and swishing of the leaves dancing in the breeze.
After meeting relatives in Bhorletar, I took off alone, to scout the nearby hills, equipped with a camera. The scenery around me was divine. The waning sun lit the view around me with a soft glow, reflecting off the rippling Madi and Midim rivers in bands of reddish white.  The green, steep terrain provided a touch of unique natural beauty. As I snapped shots on my camera, I realized how much we miss the beauty of nature while we are inside our 'cozy' rooms in Kathmandu. Still, it was hard to imagine life in the houses that stood in clusters of five and six in the hills. I voiced my concern to an old man sitting across the table when I took rest in a tea-shop.
"Ha!Ha! son.  We were born here, and grew up running through these hills, swimming in the coolness of the Madi. Whatever facilities the city may hold, it can never provide the feeling of tranquility Nature provides. You know, when we old folks sit around and look at the scenery around us, we feel rejuvenated and we forget all our worries.  It is our own paradise of happiness. For a change, why don't you come and live here?" 
That question challenged my thinking and struck me, deep inside.
As the darkness started to descend in the valley, I went back to Bhorletar.  There we had a small get-together. No, not that small! My maternal grandmother had nineteen siblings herself! My relatives were surprised to find that I was the son of my mother. "You look like her brother", many commented. The living standard was poor. There was no electricity in the village. I found out that the army had cut off the electricity there, because the village used to be dominated by the Maoists during the armed insurgency. The stories started to pour in.
"During the insurgency, it was quite harsh to live. The army would bang the door at night and search the houses for the Maoists. Later, Maoists would come and threaten us if we would let their location be known. They would order us to make food for them. They said they fought for us, but we never felt that way. The youngsters would flee for their life and the village was in a mess. We used to curse the government and the rebels. Let us hope better days will follow now that elections have been concluded", said Kalpana madam, my Grandmother's sister. I felt sympathy for all these men and women, who expect so much for themselves and their country, but who are always neglected by successive governments.
Next morning, my uncle and I went to see the "Thul dunga" (in Nepali, it means, the big rock). My mom used to tell me about it when I was younger, so I had to see if it was really that large. When I saw it, I had no doubts. People say it is the biggest rock in Nepal in a river-bank.  I found out that, 25 years ago, an American company had bought the rock and planned to bomb it to find out what was inside. However they never showed up, so thankfully the rock still stands there. I thought it would feel like scaling Mt. Everest if I could climb to its top.
That day, we went to explore some more beautiful places. The beauty and the rural setting never ceased to amaze me. I had been to my dad's village, Arghakhanchi, eleven times before, each year till I was 11. But I had no vivid memory of the rural Nepal, the real Nepal. Maybe, I was too young to remember then. This time around was different. From what I saw, I realized that there is still a lot to do.   Nepal needs its young people to accept the challenge and set out to make a difference. It is critical that we step forward and use our knowledge and skills for the development of Nepal.
I remember my Nepali teacher, Kosh Raj Neupane at St. Xavier's College, telling us, "If you ever earn lots of money, don't be foolish to spend it traveling to Switzerland or other places in the world. Go to each and every corner of Nepal. You'll know what you've been missing"
As I arrived back in Thankot a day later, I had already made a promise: "Yes, guru! I'll do that."

Expression of Tourism

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