When I close my eyes today, I can still feel the rough wooden handle of that kerosene lamp I used to carry around our small house in mid-Nepal. Those flickering flames lit more than just my evening study sessions; they illuminated dreams that would eventually carry me halfway across the world.
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| Kathmandu, 2008. Even in the capital, we faced 18-hour load-shedding. |
You see, in my village back then, darkness wasn’t just the absence of light; it was our daily reality. No electricity meant our evenings were painted in the golden glow of kerosene lamps and, on lucky nights, the flickering dance of candle flames. Mobile phones? That was science fiction to us. The closest telephone booth was a 45-minute walk away, and calling someone felt like planning a small expedition.
The First Step Away from Home
After completing my school education in the village, I knew I needed to venture beyond those familiar hills. My first real taste of the "outside world" came when I moved to Bharatpur. It felt like stepping into modernity—electricity that worked most of the time, better roads, and people who seemed so sophisticated compared to my village life.
But Bharatpur was just the beginning. The real leap came when I decided to pursue my bachelor's degree in Kathmandu. If Bharatpur felt modern, Kathmandu was like entering another dimension entirely. The capital city buzzed with energy I'd never experienced: traffic, crowds, buildings that were tall by our standards, and opportunities that seemed endless.
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| The golden eyes of Swayambhunath watched over a city that was often silent and dark |
It was during my time as a bachelor's student in Kathmandu that the seed of an even bigger dream took root. Somewhere between attending lectures and exploring the bustling streets of the capital, I made what I now realize was the most beautifully naive decision of my life—I decided to go to Singapore to study tourism management and hospitality.
The Dream That Consumed My Thoughts
At 20 years old, I thought I had life figured out. I'd already made the journey from village to city, adapting to each new environment. How hard could it be to take one more step—this time to a foreign country?
I remember lying on my bed in my small Kathmandu room, staring at the ceiling, imagining tall buildings that touched the sky, perfect roads, and a life where everything would magically fall into place. To my 20-year-old mind, going abroad wasn't just about education—it was about stepping into heaven itself.
The irony hits me now: I was still discovering Kathmandu, still adjusting to urban life after my village upbringing, yet here I was, dreaming of conquering a country thousands of miles away. But that's the thing about young dreams—they don't need logic, just passion.
The visa application felt surreal. When it got approved, I felt like I'd won the lottery. My family looked at me with such pride, such hope. I was going to be the first in our family to study abroad. The weight of their dreams, combined with my own ambitions, became mine to carry.
The Day Everything Changed
April 2009—a date etched in my memory forever. Standing at Tribhuvan International Airport, my heart was beating so fast I thought everyone could hear it. Air India to Delhi, then Sahara Airlines to Singapore. My first flight. My first time seeing an airplane up close.
As the plane lifted off, I pressed my face against the small window, watching Nepal shrink below me. That moment—that exact moment—I knew there was no going back to the boy I used to be. Not the village boy with kerosene lamps, not the Bharatpur student finding his way, and not even the Kathmandu bachelor's student who thought he understood the world.
Landing in Singapore was like stepping through a portal into another universe. The buildings touched the sky in ways I'd only imagined, making even Kathmandu's tallest structures seem tiny. The roads were so clean they sparkled. The metro system moved like magic beneath the city. Everything was so perfect, so developed, and so absolutely overwhelming for someone whose journey had started with kerosene lamps just a few years earlier.
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| The first flight and the reality check of a new life abroad. |
The Reality Check That Shattered My Confidence
Two days after arrival, I walked into what I thought would be my grand college experience. I'd pictured massive campuses, thousands of students, and impressive facilities. Instead, I found myself staring at a modest two-flat building that would be my educational home for the next two years.
That's when it hit me—that sinking feeling in your stomach when you realize you might have made a decision without enough research. But what do you do when you're already there? When your family's hopes are riding on your shoulders? When you've come so far from that village boy studying under lamplight? You push forward, that's what.
The education system was my first major culture shock. Back in Nepal—whether in village school, Bharatpur, or Kathmandu—I was used to memorizing everything, studying 12–15 hours before exams, and maintaining a respectful distance from teachers. Singapore flipped my world upside down. Here, teachers were like friends. Education was practical, not just theoretical. The English felt different on my tongue, and despite my years in Kathmandu, I struggled to find my footing.
Finding My Tribe in the Struggle
But perhaps the most beautiful part of this journey was meeting students from Nepal, India, Vietnam, Indonesia, Thailand, and the Philippines. For the first time in my life, I was part of something bigger—a community of dreamers who'd all left their comfort zones chasing something better.
We shared our stories during late-night conversations. We compared the foods from our home countries. We laughed about our cultural confusions and cried about missing our families. There was comfort in knowing I wasn't alone in feeling lost sometimes. These weren't just classmates; they became my chosen family in a foreign land.
The Weight of Missing Everything I'd Left Behind
Morning classes, evening shifts as a waiter at a restaurant in Suntec City—this became my routine. But the hardest part wasn't the work or the studies. It was the silence from home.
Imagine wanting desperately to hear your mother's voice, to tell your father about your day, to share your struggles with someone who knew you before you became this version of yourself—and having no way to connect. No mobile, no telephone, no internet back in my village. Even my siblings in Bharatpur or friends in Kathmandu felt impossibly far away. The loneliness was suffocating sometimes.
I'd lie in my small room at night, wondering if I'd made a terrible mistake. The homesickness would hit in waves, and there were moments when I seriously considered packing up and going back—not just to Nepal, but to the simpler life I'd known, even if it meant giving up on all the progress I'd made.
The Lessons Singapore Carved Into My Soul
But Singapore, in all its gleaming perfection, was teaching me things no textbook ever could. It taught me that struggle shapes character. That being uncomfortable is where growth happens. That the world is both bigger and smaller than I'd ever imagined.
Living there for exactly 25 months changed everything about how I saw life. The discipline of the people, the efficiency of systems, the way a multicultural society could function so beautifully—these weren't just observations; they were lessons being carved into my soul.
The beaches, the science parks, Changi Airport's magnificence, the night markets, and the safety of walking alone at midnight—Singapore showed me what development could look like. But more importantly, it showed me what I was capable of when pushed far beyond any comfort zone I'd ever known.
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| From village trails to the magic of Singapore’s modern systems. |
Coming Full Circle
In May 2011, I returned to Nepal carrying more than just a diploma. I carried experiences that had fundamentally changed who I was. The village boy who'd moved to Bharatpur, then Kathmandu, then Singapore, came back as a young man who'd learned that dreams require more than just passion—they need resilience, adaptability, and the courage to keep going when everything feels uncertain.
Today, 15 years later, I've traveled to many countries, lived in different cities, and accumulated more experiences than that 20-year-old in Kathmandu could have ever imagined. But nothing compares to Singapore. Not just because it was beautiful and clean, but because it was where I learned who I could become when everything familiar was stripped away.
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| 15 years later: The boy who is still learning through every struggle. |
As I sit here writing this, surrounded by all the modern conveniences that seemed impossible back in my village, I can't help but smile. My family now has electricity, internet, and mobile phones—things that seemed like magic in 2009. I can call my mother directly and chat with my father whenever I want. The world has become smaller, more connected.
But sometimes, late at night, I miss that kerosene lamp. I miss the simplicity of a life where dreams were just dreams, not responsibilities. I miss the version of me that thought abroad was heaven, because there was something beautiful about that innocence.
That journey taught me that growth happens in stages. Each step prepared me for the next, even when I didn't realize it. The confidence I'd built moving from rural to urban life in Nepal gave me the foundation to take that massive leap to Singapore.
That decision—made by a 20-year-old who thought he understood the world because he'd made it from village to capital city—taught me that sometimes the best journeys begin with incomplete preparation. Sometimes, the most important education happens outside any classroom. And sometimes, you have to lose yourself completely to find out who you really are.
The boy who thought abroad was heaven learned that heaven isn’t a place; it’s what you create when you refuse to give up on yourself, even when everything feels impossible.
Some decisions change everything. Mine certainly did.
💡 Learnify Logic: Key Takeaways for the Modern Student
Looking back at the journey from studying under a kerosene lamp in Nepal to sitting in classrooms in Singapore, a few lessons stand out:
- Look Beyond the Dream: We often fall in love with the idea of a better life. I learned that dreams need details. Understanding course structures and living costs matters more than glossy brochures. Good preparation protects your dream.
- Adaptability Over Talent: In Singapore, the students who succeeded weren’t always the top scorers from home; they were the ones open to change. The ability to adapt your habits and mindset is your real advantage.
- Progress Comes from Systems: Hope alone isn't enough. Managing time, spending, and mental health requires a deliberate system. This is why I created Learnifyvibes—to share the "Learnify Logic" that helps you grow when everything is unfamiliar.
💬 Now, I’d love to hear from you
- Have you ever moved to a place that felt like stepping into another dimension? Where did you go, and how did it change you?
- When you are away from home, what is the one small thing you miss the most?
- If you are a student right now, are you facing a "reality check" in a new city or country?
Share your story in the comments. I read every message and reply to each one. Let’s grow together.
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