On the way back to Kathmandu from Pokhara, pass a small town on a ridge – Bandipur.
The town is too small, with only a 500-meter-long side street, which can be completed in half an hour of sightseeing.
However, this small street was the only way for trade between China, Tibet and India in the middle of the 18th century. A large number of Newary merchants flocked here to establish shops, temples and inns. At that time, the traffic was busy, and the money was drunk. Until 1960, the newly built Plitvice Highway passed down the mountain, which made Bandipur lose its status as a major traffic town, and it also returned to silence. The “forgotten” ancient town of Bandipur is like a paradise, fixed in the time of the Middle Ages.
The Tibeto-Burman-speaking Newari merchants stayed and became aborigines. Until the rise of the tourist wave, the place was connected to the world again, and the hustle and bustle was restored again.
The buildings left over from the Middle Ages still maintain the style of the past, the walls are painted in bright colors, the streets are clean, the flowers are blooming on the eaves, and the smart pigeons dance tango in the sunset. Bandipur’s folk customs are simple and the people are happy. Most of the houses here have terraces on the second floor. The elderly are basking in the sun on the terrace, and the children are lying on the edge of the terrace watching the endless stream of tourists on the small street. If you hold up the camera at this moment, they will smile shyly. , waved to you shyly.
There is an arched flower gate on the hillside to the east from the town. Inside is a church school. The empty playground is quiet. Just as I was about to leave, a group of girls in gorgeous dresses suddenly passed by. What are they doing? I was wondering when another group of young girls came over like fluttering butterflies. It dawned on me that this was the graduation ceremony for the students.
Like all high school girls in the world, they exude happiness and joy, and their bright black eyes are full of longing for the future. Under the nourishment of the mountains and rivers of Bandipur, the children here are born as pure as the clear sky and as free as the birds. I can’t forget those pair of deep eyes, they always shine with clear and innocent light.
The sun was setting in the west, the breeze was breezy, and the church built by the grass hut by the road was emitting orange lights. Some people were praying sincerely, and there was warmth and peace around them. This is the rudest church I’ve ever seen, but love doesn’t change in any form. Some people live in high-rise buildings, some people live in deep ditches, some people are very bright, some people are rusted, there are thousands of kinds of people in the world, don’t ask for floating clouds, people are like rainbows, and when you meet them, you will know that there are…
