Rewind to Kyonjyosom
It was a slow, time elongating bus ride, as if ages had passed since we long left Kyonjyosom, the land of three Gods, literally, generators, operators, destroyers of the land. I remember the stone quarries we had bid adieu, vowing never to come back, the man made mess, that made us spit of white dust in horror, speaking profanely to a local auto driver regarding the ugliness of the dirt and nature killing of that place. The auto driver listening to us in terror after getting his best offer for carrying two people in his vehicle, then deciding to show us the best eating place in his ugly sounding town, after we requested him to show us the best after such an ugly encounter on our four feet, with a time dilating horror of nature's stripping of it's greenery. We had told the eatery owner and the chef before we left that we had eaten today the best version of the comfort food we found everywhere in fried chicken, chickpeas, chicken chilly and beer. And that we would come back to him again but not to the quarries.
Before the quarries, we did three hours of forest breathing in the thick forests, we encountered the fountain of youth, literally. We drank from her bosom and her waters quenched our hunger for five hours even though we had nothing to eat after having breakfast at seven at Kyonjyosom. We discovered the sources of water of Godavari, flowing 12 months undried coming from the hills which nourishes my dear Panauti and it's all season crops without floods and with constantly flowing fresh water.
We had been told at Kyonjyosom that there lies a place on a single hill which is a piece of heaven in itself, from there Manjushree the destroyer, leapt to the top of Phulchowki, the highest hill of Kathmandu valley, and with it's 100 feet or more length sword cut the Kathmandu Valley's single water way at Chobhar. From then on Kathmandu valley was no more a lake, but a land of fertile soil, already evidenced by geographers too. The locals at Kyonjyosom had become so friendly to us, with their clean hearts and pure minds, they offered us a bus ride to Kyonjyosom hills. But we didn't like reminders of ugliness of the fast moving urban world with us, that was the reason we had climed for 8 hours to reach Kyonjyosom, through Phulchowki hills via Godavari. Thus we had decided, we will walk on a one and half hour hike to reach the hill where huge statutes of all three, singly named Kyonjyosom or generator, operator, destroyer, resided. When we reached the single hill, a piece of heaven, as mentioned by the visionary mayor of Kyonjyosom, we were mesmerized, all the highest mountains of the Earth were right infront of our eyes, bigger than anything we had seen from the valleys of Kathmandu. We would walk away towards the fountain of youth, simply called Jharana or fountain, looking at these awe inspiring mountains, before we entered the deep, thick forests which would lead us to natural fatality filled stone quarries spread for miles.
When we started this entire journey, it began with a single step to dilate time as much as possible for two whole days, so that they would stretch to eternity between today and two days after. And so we climbed slowly through the hills of Phulchowki after reaching Godavari by bus. We devoured, our cooked meat and beaten rice along the journey, where only a few human souls were found because there were no places to recharge there. Those souls who were there in hills, they were there for a single purpose, collecting grass feed for their cows, sheep and buffalos. Initially, I would play on some music on my mobile to dilate time but then we finally encountered sonnature which is nature's music which when you hear you don't like playing man-made music. Sometimes the zanzelizing or irritating feeling when you hear traffic noise when you're in the woods did disturb us but it was mostly quiet and it was completely quiet after we reached Kyonjyosom.
We just hated the idea of living like in a city and seeking resorts and hotels, we walked for an hour, just seeking simple home stays in Kyonjyosom. Once we reached Bhardeu, we struck gold. We developed instant rapport with the locals there, drinking on their local wine, listening to their stories of grief and suicide and coming out of it, locals talking about the vision of Kyonjyosom and their ex-mayor's resolve to make his locality, the piece of heaven, that was etched in thousands of years of history of the place. These locals, kept us glued to that place, until our home stay owner, Suntali didi didn't come back from her family event. It took three hours, but the locals just kept us there, happy and with a sense of belonging, with their pure heart and clean souls, with their tales. Sunatali didi's home stay was in itself the haven we were yearning in our hearts, as we devoured her simple but elegantly prepared fresh food, I almost gobbled my entire hand as a result of the fresh and lovably created taste of the local produce and the local lady, Suntali didi.
As much as we felt serendipity of the place Kyonjyosom, we strongly think we also created recipity to the locals there, the feeling of serendipity of your own locality you feel after meeting tourists and strangers. The heart to heart talks with locals, the heart to heart connection