I was pleased to return to Nepal—I’ve visited it a few times before. Nepal is amazingly affordable, has lovely people, a rich culture and the perfect mix, for an Indian, of familiarity and revelation. A room in the elegant, heritage Hotel Pahan Chhen, right on Durbar square in Patan (Lalitpur), across the palace, with traditional wooden carved doors and windows, is just over Indian Rs 2,000 a night. And a nice hotel room in Thamel, heart of Kathmandu’s tourist district is Indian R1,900 a night, practically unthinkable in big-city India.

Bollywood flows in the blood of ordinary Nepalis, just as it does in India. Dawdling back to the hotel in Patan, at midnight, I chance upon a wedding procession in full frenzy, with hip youngsters, drinks in hand, dancing in the street to Dum maro dum, to a full band with saxophones and all. It turns out the popular song from Dev Anand’s 1971 film Hare Rama Hare Krishna, starring Zeenat Aman, shot in Nepal—on how the hippie and drug culture in Nepal was destroying individuals and families—is particularly close to Nepali hearts. The film shooting had the blessings of King Mahendra himself.

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 At the tiny Welcome restaurant in Pokhara, the entire family that runs it—husband Raju, wife Shanta, kids Anil and Ayush and Ama (granny) Bhavani locked up the restaurant from 12-3 pm and rushed to see KGF2. It was the second time they ‘bunked’ the restaurant; earlier they had gone to see SS Rajamouli’s Telugu hit RRR. The favourite film of Anil, 13, is Naagin, the TV series on Colours TV on a vengeful, shape-shifting serpent, that he watches online—he has his own laptop. As for Ayush, 2, his favourite is the song Nacho Nacho from RRR (which also had theatre shows at midnight). Indian cinema is clearly deepening its roots overseas. Ayush won’t dance for me, though, as he’s “apna marzi ka malik,” his fond uncle Shankar explains. I leave a tip, and Raju Dai refuses, saying it’s too much. I am moved by his integrity, that too after a few hard, lean COVID years. The granny and her husband ran a restaurant in Lucknow, but he was a drunkard, and after he abandoned her for another woman, she came to live with her son Raju in Pokhara. “Achcha hua chhutkara mila aise aadmi se,” I tell her, and she heartily agrees, telling me in Nepali, grinning, that now her souten has to deal with his alcoholism. Ah, how life imitates Bollywood. Or is it vice versa?

PS: At an eshti (state transport ST bus) stand in Bombay, vendors sell sing-channa, vada pao and “coldreenk”. But at 7 am,  at the Pokhara bus stand in Nepal, a street vendor offers, “Ma’am, would you like some apple strudels, cinnamon rolls or croissants?” Uff!

Meenakshi Shedde is India and South Asia Delegate to the Berlin International Film Festival, National Award-winning critic, curator to festivals worldwide and journalist. 
Reach her at meenakshi.shedde@mid-day.com