Luna Rajbhandari
For people of my generation, the question was rarely if we’d leave Nepal. It was more like when. For me, it was 25 years ago when Chicago became my home. But Nepal lived on in the little-big moments of life. And I know I’m not alone. The diaspora carries more than just memories. We carry a kind of unfinished sentence. A sense that something back home still belongs to us, and maybe, we belong to it too.
That’s why Pukar’s quest for an inclusive and enterprising Nepal deeply resonates. It doesn’t romanticize our return, nor guilt us into action. It invites us and our children to be a part of Nepal’s story, not as outsiders looking in, but as people with something real to contribute. It reframes nation building as something we can all be part of, no matter our zip code.
It’s not just a nice idea. It’s the kind of thinking that makes you pause and ask, “what’s my role in this story?”
If you've ever wondered how to stay meaningfully connected to Nepal beyond the phone calls, the news updates, the occasional visit, this is your moment.
Daayitwa is doing something remarkable. They’re not just supporting entrepreneurs in Nepal, they're helping young women and rising changemakers find their spark, their voice, and their power to lead. And when one of them rises, so does her family. So does her village. So does our shared future.
I invite you to come hear these stories. They’re not just success stories but reminders of what’s possible when the right kind of support meets raw determination. And if that’s not reason enough, consider this: Daayitwa also offers immersion programs for high schoolers in the diaspora. It’s a powerful way for our children to connect to the roots we hold so dear and maybe even plant something of their own.
Support Daayitwa. Support Mission Asha. Because every bit of belief we give becomes momentum for someone back home.