My Village, My Birthplace – Inaruwa, Bhagwanpur, Siraha, Nepal

There’s something about going back to your village that words can never fully capture. For me, that place is Inaruwa, Bhagwanpur, in Siraha, Nepal — my birthplace, my roots, my quiet corner of the world.

I was recently back there, walking under these old trees whose branches seem to remember everything. The way they twist and stretch out, almost like they’re reaching for the past — it’s humbling. Some of these trees have been around since before I was born. They’ve seen generations grow up, seasons pass, stories unfold.

I stood there for a while, just looking up at the leaves dancing in the sunlight. The air felt different — slower, quieter, familiar in a way only home can be. You don’t get that kind of peace in the city.

And then there’s the land itself — wide open, green, grounded. The kind of space where you can actually hear yourself think. Where the wind carries the sound of birds and far-off voices. Everything feels slower in the best way possible.

Coming back here reminded me of who I am. Not the version shaped by deadlines and routines, but the kid who ran barefoot through these fields. The one who chased dragonflies and believed the world was big, bright, and full of promise.

No matter where I go, no matter how far life takes me — this place, this village, will always be home.