Even without sight, Navina Gyawali saw a kitchen filled with hope.

She never thought she would open a restaurant, having never attended a cooking class or run a kitchen. Her parents hadn’t imagined it either. Born blind, Gyawali grew up with protective parents who saw the kitchen as a place of risk, not possibility.

“I used to persuade my parents to let me cook,” she recalls. “My mum would insist on staying with me, but she would take over. So I asked my younger brother to help instead. I wanted to do everything myself.”

Her first dish was fried okra cooked on a firewood stove. She used excess oil, causing the rice she later prepared to burn. However, each mistake taught her something. Gradually, her confidence increased as she mastered the water-to-rice ratio and the right amount of oil. Eventually, she discovered a sense of freedom in the kitchen.

Gyawali’s journey extended well beyond her native kitchen in Nepal. She earned a scholarship to study in the US, where her longing for Nepali food led her to prepare dishes at her American friends’ homes. “The aroma reminded me of home,” she explains.

Her culinary ambitions shifted during a seven-month leadership training in Kerala, India. For a small fundraising event, she baked waffles and made panipuri, which sold out quickly. “People said I had magic in my hands. That made me think, why only cook for myself? Why not start a restaurant and also teach visually impaired people?”

She knows the exact location of every jar in the kitchen. She teaches her visually impaired friends to distinguish sugar from turmeric by shaking them—sugar produces a sound, while turmeric does not. She also shows them how to feel for oil, smell onions when they brown, and trust their senses. However, it hasn’t always been easy. “Whenever I cut my hand, people would say, ‘Oh, because she’s blind.’ But if a sighted person gets hurt, no one comments on it. Mistakes happen. It’s about exercising caution, not about being blind.”

Gyawali’s big dream needed a push. That push came through her social organisation, Supportive Action Towards Humanity (SATH). She began by teaching ten visually impaired women how to cook. One day, during the training at Clubhouse in Siphal, she told renowned Nepali chef Santosh Shah about her dream. Without her knowing, Adesh Gautam, who owns the Clubhouse, eavesdropped on their talk. He then made a life-changing offer.

“Navina ji, if you want to open a restaurant, start here. You don’t need to buy anything or pay for space,” he told her. “Just start.”

Gyawali was astonished. She took time to think it over. But then she said yes.

Together, Gyawali and Gautam started building Tick-Tick Bites. The name came naturally. ‘Tick-Tick’ is the sound of her white cane. “I wanted people to know that blindness is not a weakness. It can be our strength,” she says.

Her journey took her to the national stage. Gyawali auditioned for Nepal’s first culinary reality show, Chef Nepal. She cooked Gajar Haluwa and Puri live in front of cameras. She had to identify each ingredient by touch, all while racing against the clock.

With Gautam’s guidance, she learned how to handle big burners, chopping boards, and raw meat. As a vegetarian, she had never cooked chicken. “The first time I touched chicken, I washed my hands all day, but I still smelled it!” she laughs.

However, there were difficult moments. Gyawali remembers the time she poured pancake batter all at once. “I felt bad. In the kitchen, mistakes are hot and unforgettable. But so are the lessons,” she says.

She made it to the Top 16 on Chef Nepal. One challenge was to create a dish using a surprise ingredient: eggplant. She remembered Gautam’s advice and made eggplant tempura. To her surprise, the judges loved it. But Gyawali knew when to say goodbye. She made a simple dish on purpose to exit the show. “I wanted to prove that visually impaired people can cook. That was enough for me. It was time to start Tick-Tick Bites.”

Back at Clubhouse, Tick-Tick Bites began in a small shared kitchen. Her first customer was a group playing pool. They tipped her extra, which she used to buy more ingredients. Gradually, her menu expanded from six basic dishes to more elaborate offerings. She began providing catering services and even made homemade ice cream.

Cooking for a crowd wasn’t easy. “I didn’t have the confidence to cook for many people at once. Gautam would stand beside me and help. Now, we can serve up to 50 people simultaneously,” she says.

However, not everything went as planned. Gyawali and Gautam set up a food stall at an agricultural fair. They sold out on the first day, but couldn’t sell a single plate on the second day. The event manager promised to pay with coupons for free meals, but they were never provided. This deeply hurt her. “It was the first time I sold food outside my circle. I was so happy. But I felt deceived,” she says.

Two years later, she set up another stall at a college event, accompanied by one of her partially sighted staff members. They sold out all their items, but on the bus ride home with large bags, they attracted whispers and stares. A man asked, “Are they roadside singers?” The stereotype stung, but Gyawali knew she was creating something bigger than people’s ignorance.

As orders grew, so did her confidence. She hired two partially blind women. Each dish taught her something new. For example, when she mixed mayonnaise into a sandwich filling, spilling it everywhere, Gautam stepped in to help. That messy sandwich became a favourite for two customers who returned a week later, asking for her by name.

Tick-Tick Bites now has a separate kitchen. It caters for events, serves customers, and keeps adding to its menu. The dream is to have a restaurant run entirely by the blind.

But running a business isn’t always easy, and some people still doubt her. “They think I’m just the face while Gautam does all the work. It’s hurtful, but we know the truth. We learn together, fail together, and rise together,” she says.

Support from her family, friends, and even strangers keeps her going. Social media and news stories have helped Tick-Tick Bites reach people far beyond Kathmandu.

Gyawali knows there will be more ups and downs, but she is determined to build a space where visually impaired people are not invisible. She wants to show the world that blindness doesn’t dim dreams; rather, it sharpens them.

“Big things often start with small, shaky steps,” she says. “Sometimes, all you need is someone to believe in you.”