I head off down the now familiar road that leads to our friend Neel’s shop. Neel is the founder of a Non Government Organisation (NGO) that we will be working with to deliver the construction of a school. I met him for the first time two days ago, instantly warming to his familiarity and charisma. He is a small, slender man with a neatly trimmed goatee, short hair and skin a little darker than most Nepali. His voice is high with a slight endearing rasp that is more present when he laughs. A contagious laugh. A rich, full belly laugh filled with gratitude and compassion, tinged with the faint melancholy of a man that has experienced hardship.

I see him smiling and waving at the front of his shop on a busy intersection of the city. Our handshake seems a little meagre as we move into a full embrace and laugh our way to the cushions on the floor of his mandala Thanka store. My partner and I stare in bewilderment at the Buddhist and Hindu mandala’s that cover the walls of the shop while Neel concludes his phone call. Each colourful piece communicates a completely different feeling. My eyes move from piece to piece and land on a black and gold Buddhist mandala. It is the plainest art work in the entire room consisting of a black backdrop with gold design, a golden om in the middle of the mandala with perfect golden circles formed with the Tibetan prayer of “om mani padme hum”. The detail is beautiful and the symmetry is perfect but it is the feeling it gives me that is most astounding. I find myself staring into a pristine lake of clear waters, taking on the lakes clarity and stillness.

The stillness is interrupted by the conclusion of Neel’s phone call as we engage in small talk before going over the details of the project. Neel is just as excited as we are. The school will consist of 11 classrooms, all built with the structural integrity to withstand an earthquake of 9 magnitude. It will educate 440 children, a third of whom will be given scholarships by local NGO’s. We nut out the nitty gritty of funding, engineer drawings, government regulations and clearance and start mapping out a time frame for the project. I am so excited. The reality of our endeavour seems to keep breaking through yet another layer of realisation, a dream within a dream that I know I will only wake from when I see the children of Talamarang for the first time.

I ask Neel about his life and what led him to building children homes and schools.

“A long story my friend,” he says laughing.

“I have at least a year brother!”

His inspiring story further solidifies my trust. Neel lost his father in a tragic building accident when he was twelve years old. His father was building a school. At the age of thirteen, he left his village looking for work in the city, having never seen a single rupee before. He worked for years for only 100 rupees a month before being funded by a friend and going into business for himself. Neel has since founded “Team Nepal,” building his own orphanage as well as being involved in several other children homes and schools over the last fourteen years. It isn’t surprising that destiny could favour a man of Neel’s compassion and I can’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude and reverence for my partners serendipitous meeting with him four years ago.

Our company grows with the arrival of three girls from France that have been volunteering at Talamarang orphanage and a young man from Ireland that was running a medical clinic in the village. After some brief introductions, we all start making our way on foot to Neel’s home for dinner. It is dusk as we walk through the darkening streets of Thamel, a beautiful sunset breeze touching my clammy skin, giving me a moments respite from the smouldering heat. The buildings are aglow with the soft golden light of the falling sun and I am too glad to receive her final blessings for the day.

We arrive at Neel’s home just as the sun disappears behind the city horizon. We ascend the narrow, spiral staircase of Neel’s quaint and cosy home. Everything is made of timber and the walls are decorated in Thanka and inspiring paintings of Nepali scenery, often involving a group of Nepali trekking through the most exquisite landscapes of the Himalayas. The sitting area consists of low wooden benches along each wall, decorated in hand woven carpets and cushions. We share a rich, spiced mushroom and tomato soup while Neel and his lovely wife prepare other dishes, despite our insistence that we wait for them to join us. We sit by candlelight, the power-out being a regular occurrence throughout the entire country. I can’t recall being so impressed by soup. I savour the hearty flavour, trading expressions of ecstasy with my partner.

After a while the power returns, turning on the lights as well as the small TV, which resumes its mindless dross, exceedingly out of place in this setting. I lean forward to turn it off and in walks the most joyful elderly lady I have ever laid eyes on. Neel’s 88 year old mother doesn’t speak a word of English and yet manages to communicate love and playfulness more than language ever could, hopping from left to right foot with comical postures in the ‘Comedia del arte’ style of Aleccino, laughing as she puts out each candle with exaggerated hand swipes just over the flame. Her laughter reaches a crescendo as she accidentally knocks one of the candles to the floor and her joy is unavoidable, leaving the entire room in fits of laughter.

After sharing other tasty vegetarian dishes the European volunteers share stories of their experience at Neel’s children’s home. Since the earthquake there have been over 80 children displaced just in the tiny village of Talamarang. Team Nepal have since put up temporary homes for the children, providing additional support wherever possible. Sometimes it’s hard to remain positive when the overall need in just one small section of the devastated area is so overwhelming, so I am grateful when the sombre mood is balanced with uplifting stories of hope and love. One such story involves the eldest child at the orphanage. Her last name reveals that she belongs to the lowest caste in Nepal, often called the ‘untouchable’ caste. The lower the caste the more severe the discrimination and after many difficult years, she has finally found her place in the Team Nepal orphanage. She is a natural born leader and her level of compassion is so profound that Neel believes her to be the reincarnation of Mother Teresa. She has recently undertaken the task of raising money for aids affected children in Africa. This is not a typo. She has sacrificed one of three new items of clothing and shoes that she is afforded annually by Team Nepal to have the money go to children on the other side of the world instead. Her actions have inspired volunteers to donate to this cause also and this brings her more joy than any material object ever could.

Is it possible for us all to live with this level of service to others? My eyes glaze over with tears of joy at the idea. My intentions for serving others are not always altruistic. I have explored many paths in my life seeking peace and happiness, only finding it through service. My decision to serve has limited the ego’s field of influence, now only able to distort my intention. Am I serving others purely for my own happiness or is it ‘our’ happiness I hold in my heart. Mother Teresa once said that if we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other. The thought of ‘belonging’ with the children of Talamarang in just ten days is overwhelming. May we all remember that we belong to each other.

-James