Dashain has never been just another festival for me. It evokes the smell of home, the warmth of family and childhood memories that time cannot erase. Life has changed. We have grown up, taken on responsibilities and become caught up in the demands of everyday life. Yet, whenever Dashain arrives, my mind returns to those carefree days when happiness came so easily.

Like many people, I have my fondest Dashain memories from childhood. Even now, the festival makes me wish I could be a child again. I remember the games we played with friends, the excitement of meeting relatives and the joy of simply being together. The Dashains I spent in my village during my school and college years remain among my happiest memories.

There was a special thrill when friends who had completed their bachelor’s degrees and returned from Kathmandu gathered in the village. We had our own lives to pursue, but Dashain brought us together again. Childhood memories of dakshina (money given by elders as a blessing), swings, tika and visits to our maternal uncles’ homes remain particularly vivid. As I grew older, I came to appreciate not just the excitement of the festival but also the rare opportunity it offered to reconnect with family and friends.

In the village, even the simplest moments felt special. My elder sister lived just a kilometre away, and I would often drop by, looking forward to sharing a meal with her. The thought of a hot meal and the pleasure of celebrating together were enough to make the day feel festive. That familiar warmth is difficult to find now. Growing up and beginning a career in cinema have changed my routines, but the sweetness of those childhood Dashains remains alive in my heart.

My grandparents would apply tika to my forehead and bless me, and we would visit relatives throughout the village. But the visits I looked forward to most were to my maternal uncles’ homes. The affection shared between my uncles, aunts and their nieces and nephews was special. Only as I have grown older have I come to realise how precious those gatherings were. Today, we are so busy chasing our dreams that we sometimes struggle to find time even for people we have known all our lives. Dashain gives us a reason to return to them.

Not every Dashain, however, brought the comfort of home. After completing college, I went to India to continue my studies. That year, I could not afford to return to Nepal for tika from my mother. We had a holiday, but I lacked the money for the journey. Missing that moment hurt deeply. I also remember the early days of my theatre career, when I sometimes had to borrow money from friends to get by. Those experiences taught me how painful it can be to spend a festival away from home when circumstances leave you with no choice.

Now, I am the one buying things for my children. Watching them brings back memories of my own childhood—the anticipation of tika, the excitement of visiting relatives and the simple joy of being in the village. I want my children to experience that same warmth and create memories they will cherish long after childhood has passed.

Dashain has changed for me, but its meaning remains. It is not just about family ties; it is about the affection that binds us, even when life pulls us in different directions. The festival reminds us to pause, return to our roots and share happiness with the people who matter.

Every year, when Dashain comes around, I find myself returning to the child I once was. The years have passed, and life has become more complicated, but those memories remain as warm and familiar as ever.