In the year 2019, I embarked on a journey that was meant to heal the wounds of my past. It was my first international trip, and Europe was calling me with its allure of new experiences and unfamiliar landscapes. However, beneath my excitement, there was a lingering sense of nervousness. I had recently suffered a heartbreaking loss—a miscarriage at 30 weeks—and the pain and trauma had left me deeply wounded.
I saw this trip as an opportunity to find solace, to immerse myself in the beauty of foreign lands, and to gradually mend the fragments of my shattered spirit. Determined to embark on this healing journey, I prepared meticulously and applied for a visa at the German embassy. I was interviewed in person, and when asked about the purpose of my travel, I poured my heart out, explaining the profound loss I had experienced and how I sought solace through this journey of self-discovery.
To my relief, the interview went well, and I was granted the visa. The joy that washed over me was immeasurable. With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, I made my way to Tribhuvan International Airport. There, amidst the bustle of travelers, I found myself surrounded by my loving in-laws and parents, who had come to bid me farewell and wished me luck on my adventure.
However, as fate would have it, my journey took an unexpected turn. Upon reaching the immigration office in Kathmandu, I found myself faced with an unforeseen obstacle. The immigration officers scrutinized my documents, and despite having all the necessary paperwork, they claimed that it was insufficient for my travel.
Confusion and frustration welled up within me as I passionately argued my case. Their reasoning astounded me—being a solo female traveler on my first international trip, they expressed concerns about my safety. Their outdated stereotypes led them to believe that I might be a potential victim of human trafficking, a notion that was utterly illogical and unfair.
Hours turned into an eternity as I engaged in a fervent discussion with the immigration officers, desperately trying to make them understand that their assumptions were baseless. I wondered why my independence as an adult woman was being questioned, and why the notion of a Nepalese female traveling alone to a foreign country was met with such resistance.
Disheartened, I was eventually compelled to abandon my travel plans and return home. Days passed, but my determination to challenge this unjust system grew stronger. Fueled by a sense of injustice, I decided to take action. I returned to the immigration office after four days, ready to file a complaint against the treatment I had endured.
This time, there were six individuals conducting the interview. They questioned me about the reasons behind my desire to travel and the documents I had presented. With unwavering conviction, I recounted my painful journey, emphasizing the work I had been involved in as an advocate against human trafficking in Nepal.
As they listened attentively, a flicker of understanding began to dawn upon their faces. They acknowledged the legitimacy of my reasons to travel and expressed regret that I had been wrongly stopped at the immigration checkpoint. It was a bittersweet moment for me—a validation of my rights as an independent woman, but also a realization of the flaws that persisted within the system.
I couldn't help but think about the irony of it all. In a country where countless feminists and social activists passionately fought against gender discrimination, I had fallen victim to the very bias they sought to eliminate. The incident served as a stark reminder that progress often comes in fragments, and the journey towards true equality is long and arduous.
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