Green Chwadi

Our first evening at Green Chwadi,

only the sounds of birds disturbed the silence.

We arrived in the afternoon from Pokhara aboard Buddha Air 641.

Ten minutes at cruising altitude before the initial descent was announced.

I’d not been on a twin engine prop since 1976 on a flight from Merida, Yucatán to the ruins of Tikal. There’s a certain excitement in not knowing the outcome.

Of the many possibilities at the Bharatpur airport, we chose Suresh to drive us the 40 km to Chwadi.

It was a bumpy hour and a half ride, brief stretches of asphalt interrupting endless gravel and rock that took its toll on more than one vehicle along the way.

Arriving in the heat of the afternoon at this paradise near the bank of the river,

beyond which is the Chitwan National Park,

we showered and rested, then sat.

“There will be stories here,” Pa said. “Stories unlike any we’ve ever heard.”

As the sun approached the end of its day, we walked the road,

the nearby grasses,

and along the edge of growing rice,

before passing a young woman in the water where bathing and laundry take place.

The birds are announcing the break of dawn now.

Breakfast at 8, then . . .