He was visiting the country with the majestic Himalayas, little did he know when he started the trek that he would find something more beautiful than the mountains he had been hoping for. He was trekking on the rough terrains of Nepal when he found himself more lost than ever, after all he hadn’t took with himself a guide being the adventurous type that he was. But luckily he found a small hut just before his stomach couldn’t tolerate the hunger and he tried calling someone.


“Hello? Anybody there?”

“Who is it?” a lady in her late thirties said in Nepali.

“Umm, I need some help, I am very hungry. Do you understand English? English, yes?”

“English? Son, come here and translate, come fast.” The lady called her 15-year old son.

“What? What?” asked the son.

“I am lost, I need some food, yes? Food?” the tourist asked making gestures of eating so as to make him understand.

“Food? He says he’s hungry.”

“Oh, he must be starving from the walking, look at his sweating. Wait I will ask my daughter to make food for all of us. Tell him that food will be cooked.”

“Food, coming. Cooking.” Said the son.


“Sunita, cook some meal for this gentleman too, we all will be eating together.” The lady said to her 18-year old, beautiful yet strangely unmarried daughter. She was dressed in the tradition of the country he wanted to explore but now he was trying to explore the beauty of the femininity he had longed for. He was just 21 but he was wiser than the others his age because of which he didn’t look for the superficiality of a woman’s persona.


He had seen nothing more pure than her innocence, he had seen no one with the kind of features like her. She was the epitome of beauty in its most simple form but she was also the epitome of beauty in the most divine form. The tourist was only focusing on her as she cooked inside the dark kitchen during the late afternoon. She was not like any other girl he had seen before.


He was very charming himself, with the deep blue eyes like the deep ocean she had never seen before, the golden in his hair made him look like Zeus whom she hardly knew of, but as he looked at him she found him child like.


She felt embarrassed being watched like that, it had never happened to her before. And he was constantly staring at the lady figure in front of him trying to absorb it all. He looked at her body but not as a territory but instead with respect as it was almost completely hidden had it not been for her dress that showed a little of her fair waist that he found so irresistible.


As he noticed the mother, he felt the aura of a goddess that an atheist like him wouldn’t believe existed, at least not in such a real form. The children respected her and loved her and she loved them more than her own life, that is what he implied from their conversations with him.


The food was finally ready and he was whole heartedly served the platter that is generally cooked in a Nepali home. He was looking here and there searching for a place to sit and eat, when he saw the son of the family sit on the floor and start his meal. So he understood and sat down too, but now he was waiting for the spoon and fork for it was rice, curry, vegetables and pickle which he didn’t know how else to eat if not with a spoon. Then he went back to his teacher, the boy and learnt that hands were the connection media for food and the body. So he washed up his hands and started eating. He was so hungry that he ate like no one was watching, even the old lady had never seen anyone eat like that. He had finally truly understood what it meant to be hungry and to eat just the way he used to when he was a child. He was too shy to ask for a second serving but before he could think of how to ask for one, a voice uttered the words he was so happy to hear.

“Want more? Take, take. Rice? Dal? Vegetables? Pickle? Anything, how much, as much as you can, take.” The son said. After all he was the only one who had mastered the language in the whole village.


He felt more like home in that small hut than he had in any one of his mansions or apartments, he felt more loved by people he didn’t know in that place who had helped him in the time of need like saviors.


He found it all so beautiful as he saw the mother chase the son around for his mischief laughing while the daughter looked at them and laughed so gracefully yet freely, it was something he couldn’t describe but he found it true and beautiful. The scene of the family portrait was made even more divine by the sheen of the setting Sun. They all were trying to have conversations with the tourist and even though the linguistic barrier existed, they could understand each other’s gestures and signs. He had never been happier around people, and at that moment did he realize why people went to the east.


He was offered to sleep there as it was too late, and so he did. He fell asleep as soon as he lied on the mat on the floor. There was no mattress, but this time he didn’t need one, his body was experiencing the beautiful feeling of fatigue so the lack of luxury was unnoticeable. He was very happy to have a shelter, very thankful to have received food and felt very peaceful sleeping in the beautiful silence.


The next morning he packed his trekking bag and was ready to depart from his new found home, when they gave him a piece of silk cloth of a very sweet cream color as a memento. The tourist didn’t only take the cloth as a souvenir but also their love and his own happiness as a forever lasting memory which changed his perception towards life in the entirety of all his journeys. He had found himself amidst the gods of Himalayas. The tourist found his home there and was longer a tourist in his own.