Nepal 2025, Day Three

It was time for us — the group from Nandaka Vihara — to take our leave of the Dhammadāyāda Meditation Centre and continue our journey through Nepal. Earlier that morning, we had paid another visit to Sayadawgyi Bhaddanta Āciṇṇa. It was the morning puja, and we were there to offer him his breakfast and to gather around for a group photo. We knew that moments like these were precious. Who could say when, or if, we’d ever have the chance to see him again? Would we ever return to this secluded mountain retreat in Phasku, so far removed from our lives in Penang?

We also took the opportunity to say our goodbyes to Bhante Candima, the Chief Abbot of Dhammadāyāda. Ever gracious, he kindly led us up to the Sīma Hall, a wide open space with a tall statue of the Walking Buddha that stood in quiet majesty, gazing out across the vast, rugged landscape that surrounded the monastery. It was a moment of silent reflection. A fitting sending-off for us.

Of course, for those who had come up to Phasku by helicopter — the lucky few — the return journey would be a different experience. They now had to join the rest of us in the two 4WD vehicles for the bumpy ride down the mountain and back to Kathmandu. We had, over the past 24 hours, been regaling them with tales of our adventure coming up: the winding road, the dirt tracks, the pitch-black darkness, the bumping and jolting of the car and the thrill of not knowing exactly where we were going. All good fun, we had told them. But that journey was in the dark. Now we all would be doing it in broad daylight. Would it still feel like an adventure? Or would seeing everything take away some of the mystery?

So there we were, nine of us split between the two 4WDs, rumbling our way downhill, jostling about in our seats as the vehicles bumped over stone-paved dirt tracks and swerved around eroded ruts. The excitement of the unknown was gone, replaced by the full visibility of what lay ahead. Perhaps that made it less thrilling. Still, it was far from dull. At least now we could admire the mountain scenery in broad daylight.

After about 90 minutes, we emerged from the rough stretch and hit proper roads again. A collective sigh of relief followed. But it wasn’t quite over yet. As we entered Kathmandu’s outskirts, we had to tackle that final ordeal — the bone-jarring, dust-choked stretch of roadworks leading up to the city and the airport. Endless construction, potholes, choking air. It’s hard to imagine how people put up with it every day.

Still, we reached Tribhuvan International Airport in good time, checked in without fuss and boarded our short flight to Lumbini. We would fly by Buddha Air, an interesting name for an airline, using their propellor-driven ATR planes. By the time we touched down in this sacred town, birthplace of the Buddha, the light was already beginning to fade.

Our guide, who had joined us in Kathmandu, whisked us off to our accommodation at the Buddha Maya Gardens Hotel. Comfort and privacy at last. Dinner was ready and waiting, despite our late arrival. A simple fare of Nepalese food, but most welcome after such a long day. We sat down to eat, weary but feeling content. The real pilgrimage in Lumbini, we knew, would begin on Day Four.