Walking around Kathmandu, one encounters many Tibetans

Kathmandu, the capital of Nepal, is home to a long-established community of Tibetans. Many of their families arrived in 1959, after the anti-Chinese, anti-communist uprising in Tibet sent waves of refugees over the Himalayas. Nineteen fifty-nine: not merely half a century ago, but now more than seventy years in the past. For the younger generations, “exile” is no longer the defining word; Kathmandu—the place of their birth, their schools, their friendships—has quietly become their true hometown.

The elderly woman in the photograph may be one of the few who still carry memories of that earlier time. Her expression is calm, but behind it lies a sediment of decades, a history too heavy to recount and too distant to retrieve clearly. Even if she remembers the journey across the mountains, the memories likely drift in and out like peaks blurred by Himalayan haze. Yet the lines etched across her face seem to trace a map of a life lived across borders—geographical, political, and emotional.

Today, Tibetan refugee settlements dot the outskirts of Kathmandu. Visitors often see only the prayer flags fluttering over rooftops or the shops selling ritual objects, unaware of the quieter, more persistent work of making a life in a place that was never meant to be permanent. There is no real hope of returning to Tibet, yet neither is there the sense of full belonging in Nepal. It is a life lived in the overlap of two worlds—claimed by neither, and endured within the space in between.

Kathmandu on Google Map

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