By Pooneh Nadae
Editor-in-Chief, Shokaran Magazine
TEHRAN: About ten years ago, I traveled to Nepal at the invitation of Bishnu Nishthuri, an independent Nepali journalist. I discovered a country that breathed like a living legend among mountains and clouds. Ancient temples with bells ringing without pause, Durbar Square, the cobbled alleys of Bhaktapur, the Monkey Temple, and people living between suffering and beauty so deeply enchanted me that I returned soon after. That second trip was meant for wide photography and writing my own travelogue — a travelogue that was never published, because later all my photos and notes were stolen.
What remains safe from time and thieves is the eternal image of Nepal’s “living civilization” that I still see in my mind:
• The narrow alleys of Kathmandu, filled with stone carvings, woodwork, sacred statues, and street vendors selling Tibetan fabrics and colorful yak wool knits.
• Sacred cows roaming freely in the streets, and thin stray dogs dressed in knitted vests by kind people to protect them from the cold.
• Large bookstores, colorful dishes, and the smiles of people who always lived between poverty and hope.
One morning in Kathmandu I remember clearly: at the doorway of a mobile phone shop, a skinny dog was sleeping. Customers stepped over him one by one, careful not to disturb his rest. The shopkeeper considered the dog a guest from God. That was when I understood that in Nepal, animals are companions of human life, treated with respect.
Now, when I read the news from Nepal, I see the same land — a place that holds the Kumari Temple and its living goddess, but also bears deep wounds of poverty and anger. Not long ago, the government tried to silence the younger generation by banning access to Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube. But the youth, the children of those same alleys and temples, could not remain silent. Protests began, blood was spilled on the cobblestones, and at least 21 people lost their lives.
Within a single day, people set fire to the government secretariat, the Supreme Court, the presidential palace, and the homes of politicians. The army entered the streets — still an institution respected by Nepalis. Finally, Prime Minister Oli resigned, and the social media ban was lifted.
For me, Nepal will always remain the land of endless bells, free-roaming cows, and faces both weary and beautiful. But today, those bells are mixed with the cries of a new generation — a generation singing the song of change amid the ruins of past suffering and the hope of tomorrow.
