Every place has a story.
ODE to Yangang exists to listen to it.

Featuring Susma Gurung

For Susma, Yangang was never just a place—it was home, an abode where feelings flowed as freely as the streams that ran through it. Wrapped in greenery, the land shimmered with quiet beauty, its scenery changing with the light but never losing its soul. Nature wasn’t something admired from afar; it was lived with, grown into, and understood deeply.

Above it all stood Bhaleydhunga, a place that held both height and meaning. From there, her thoughts felt lighter, her mind unburdened. It was unlike anywhere else—a space where time, memory, and life came together. Yangang wasn’t a chapter she visited; it was where her life unfolded, fully and wholly.

What made Yangang richer was its people. A true cultural amalgamation, the town carried many languages, many traditions, yet spoke a single language of generosity. Here, care was instinctive. Neighbours were extended family, and kindness moved easily from one home to another. Belonging was not questioned—it was felt.

Susma knew every stream, every familiar turn of the land. Each one held a memory, a quiet attachment that only grows when a place raises you. Yangang was dear in the way only home can be—steadfast, grounding, and irreplaceable. To her, it was what Rome was to Augustus: a centre, a constant, a place that shaped who she became.

ODE to Yangang is a tribute to beginnings that shape us and places that hold us long after we leave. Yangang may appear untouched by time, but its spirit lives on—in routine, in memory, and in the people who carry it forward.