Echoes of a Quaint Vibrance

A journey from Bangalore to Lo Manthang unfolds through Nepal's rugged landscapes, revealing timeless traditions, resilient people, and an ancient world where the wind carries stories of the past and present; writes Monjit P,

- Monjit P,

The flight from Bangalore to Kathmandu was uneventful, save for the constant chatter of a fellow traveler, an elderly Nepali man who spoke of his hometown in Mustang with a mix of nostalgia and pride. "You will see," he said, "it is like stepping into another time." I smiled, only half-believing him, unaware that his words would soon ring true.

Kathmandu was chaos, an explosion of color, sound, and movement. The streets smelled of incense, freshly fried momos, and damp earth. Thamel, with its winding alleys and trekking shops, seemed an unavoidable maze for travelers. I spent the night at a modest guesthouse, where the owner, a wiry man with sun-darkened skin, sized me up before asking, "Mustang?" I nodded. "Ah, the road is not easy. But worth it. You will see."

The journey to Pokhara was long but scenic, the Prithvi Highway hugging the banks of the Trishuli River. In the bus, a mother cradled her sleeping child while an old man chewed betel nut, his fingers stained red. Outside, the world blurred past—rice terraces, roadside tea stalls, children waving at the passing vehicles. By the time I reached Pokhara, the sky had turned golden, the Annapurna range glowing in the fading sunlight. The lake shimmered, reflecting the flickering lamps of the boats that dotted its surface. I met a group of bikers from Delhi who were also heading to Mustang, their Royal Enfields parked in a neat row. "The road is tough," one of them warned. "But man, it's beautiful."