A Memorable Trip to 3 of the 4 Holy Dhaams in Nepal
Prelude
What began as a modest pilgrimage of three seekers quickly
snowballed into a caravan of ten. Destiny, it seemed, had its own guest list.
And conceptually, our journey was already blessed: starting from the sacred
soil of Sita Madi in Bihar, where Janaka found the infant Sita – passing through
Janakpuri, and culminating at the Ashram of Maharshi Valmiki, where Sita is
believed to have returned to her mother’s embrace beneath the earth. The 3
Dhaams (Varaha Kshetra, Muktinath, and Ridi (Ruru) Kshetra) that were the
mandatory points of interest in our itinerary had their own mystic charm and were spiritually enchanting.
Cross-border travel meant paperwork, but the process was
surprisingly forthright. As an ID document, we were told not to use Aadhaar,
while Voter ID and Passport were welcomed. A word to the wise: register online.
The border queues are long, the fees double, and patience is a currency best
saved for temple darshan, not bureaucracy.
Packing was a lesson in balance – travel light, but never
underestimate the Himalayan mood swings. Jackets, thermals, and a few
essentials became our armor against altitude, terrain, and weather.
Day 1: 4th April 2026
The adventure began with a flight from Bengaluru to
Gorakhpur, a breezy 2½ hours that lulled us into thinking the rest of the
journey would be just as easy. Outside the airport, we unpacked our homemade
lunches, a comforting reminder of home before surrendering to the unknown. Two
sturdy vehicles awaited us, destined to be our loyal companions across borders
and terrains.
The group expanded mid-journey – one pilgrim already camped
in Gorakhpur, another reaching earlier that morning, and they were scooped up en
route – like characters joining a play at just the right cue. From Gorakhpur to
Sita Madi, the road stretched 270 km, demanding 7½ hours of patience,
punctuated by tea breaks, snacks, and laughter.
Ah, the roadside indulgences! Freshly fried potato dices,
crisp and golden, vanished faster than they cooled. The masala tea, brewed in a
humble shack, was liquid poetry – spiced, sweet, and priced at a fraction of
its city cousin. I couldn’t resist the sweet boondi, those golden droplets
soaked in syrup, paired with khara sev, a crunchy, savory counterpoint.
Together, they were a duet of taste – one singing sugar, the other salt.
As we neared Sheohar, the sight of countless private
hospitals and nursing homes lining the road startled us. A reminder, perhaps,
of life’s fragility even on a spiritual journey. Dinner was modest – rotis,
dal, and rice – but it was enough to soothe travel-weary bodies.
By 11:00 pm, we reached our destination, Hotel Vindhwasni Palace, exhausted yet content. Bags dropped, beds claimed, and with barely a word, we surrendered to sleep.
Day one had tested our stamina, teased our taste
buds, and set the stage for the days to come.
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