Bahundangi: The Heart That Still Beats Within Us
There’s a place in our hearts where time slows down, where every dusty road tells a story, every rustling leaf echoes laughter, and every turn of memory brings tears to the eyes. That place, for us, is Bahundangi.
No matter where life has taken us Kathmandu, abroad, busy cities or quiet corners of the world Bahundangi is never far. It’s always alive in our hearts, like the fragrance of wet soil after rain, or the sound of a distant cowbell in the morning mist.
It is not just a place on the map. It’s home.
A Village That Raised Us
Bahundangi, once a VDC and now proudly a part of Mechinagar Municipality in Jhapa district, has always stood as a symbol of peace, simplicity, and love. The quiet fields, the dusty lanes, the whispering forests all of it shaped us. It is where we first learned to ride a bicycle on rocky village paths, where we ran barefoot across the playgrounds of Mechi Jana Sadharan Madhyamik Vidyalaya lovingly known as Me Ja Sa Ma Vi.
For me, Me Ja Sa Ma Vi was not just a school. It was the place where I studied up to class 10. It was where I laughed, feared, dreamed, failed, and tried again. From the first shaky handwriting to the last day of exams, that school carries every version of me. Those green uniforms, chalk-marked blackboards, the sound of the bell that meant both relief and discipline it’s all still fresh, still alive inside.
Our teachers were strict, but they were ours. They gave us knowledge, yes, but also values. They guided us, scolded us, stood behind us silently, patiently, and sometimes even without a thank you in return.
Where Every Corner Holds a Memory
Bahundangi Bazaar still stands like a gentle guardian of our memories. The smell of tea from local stalls, the same old shopkeepers who still greet you with a familiar smile nothing really changes in Bahundangi, even when everything does. That bazaar was our mini world from stationery to stories, from sweets to secrets it had everything.
The old bridges, the narrow roads, and the small temples on the corners each has a story of its own. Each one witnessed our growing-up years, our childhood crushes, our festival dances, and our farewell tears.
Mini Mountain: Our Playground of Pride
There’s a place we used to go for school projects Mini Mountain. Back then, we carried sacks and buckets, collected soil, and returned sweaty and tired, but laughing. Who would have thought that small hill of childhood chores would someday become a symbol of Bahundangi’s identity?
Today, Mini Mountain is a beautiful highlight of our village. People visit it, take photos, climb it proudly and every time someone mentions it, I can’t help but feel proud. We were there before it was known. We were part of its beginning, and it was part of ours.
The Places That Fed Our Spirit
Religious places like the temples scattered across Bahundangi were not just for prayers they were places of gathering, celebration, music, laughter, and yes, gossip too. Dashain and Tihar turned our small village into a world full of colours, rhythms, and blessings.
Picnic spots? We didn’t need luxury. We had open fields, school grounds, jungle edges, and yes, Mini Mountain too. With homemade food, loud music, and echoes of laughter in the open those moments stitched friendships and families tighter.
A Salute to Simplicity
The roads weren’t perfect, the buses were late, and sometimes the electricity would disappear for hours. But no one complained. We lit candles, sat together, and told stories. We didn’t have everything, but we had enough and that was everything.
Bahundangi Lives On
For those of us who now live far, Bahundangi is not just a memory it’s the root. It’s the place we return to when the world gets too loud. It’s where we go to remember who we were, and why we became who we are.
So next time you walk those dusty roads again, breathe in the air that raised you, greet the old man at the tea stall, visit your school and see your name scratched on a desk or a wall know this:
Bahundangi never left you. You carry it in your soul. Always.
