Twenty-Six Years Later: When a Reunion Became a New Beginning

Ankit Sapkota
Pennsylvania, USA

Twenty-six years is long enough for students to become parents, professionals, entrepreneurs, and community leaders; long enough for familiar faces to acquire stories that cannot be read from photographs. It is also long enough to discover that distance may interrupt friendship without necessarily erasing it.

From July 31 to August 3, 2026, members of the School Leaving Certificate (SLC) Class of 2000 of Blooming Lotus English School (BLES) gathered in West Virginia. We traveled from across the United States, including California and Washington, bringing different journeys, professions, beliefs, and experiences. Some of us had remained connected; others had not spent meaningful time together since our school days in Nepal. What appeared to be a reunion had been thoughtfully designed to become something more than photographs, reels, TikTok videos, food, and nostalgia.

The program balanced recreation with reflection, movement with stillness, and laughter with thoughtful conversation. We shared meals, hiked through the West Virginia landscape, danced, joked, sang around an evening fire, and often exchanged sleep for another hour of conversation. Each morning began with yogasana, pranayama, and meditation led by yoga instructors Tika Adhikari, Ganga Adhikari, and Paramananda Bastola. Mr. Bastola, a certified Reiki practitioner, also offered Reiki to interested friends, some of whom described feeling refreshed afterward.

The diversity within the gathering was equally meaningful. Over the years, our lives have taken us in remarkably different directions. Ishor Dhakal, who once taught mathematics and science in the camp school, is now a Hindu priest. Radika Subedi became a certified nurse, while Marvin Adhikari built a career in banking and now serves as a branch manager at a bank. Prakash Dhungana, Iccha Adhikari, Tika Adhikari, Bhola Dhungana, and Yadav Nepal became entrepreneurs, who are also contributing to their local community service. I built my own path in information technology, project leadership, and writing. We had all become different versions of the students we once were, yet something older still connected us: our friendships, our school, and a shared history.

That connection became especially visible on August 2, during a special three-hour session that I had the privilege of leading. We chanted the school prayer we had once recited together and opened with the Hanuman Chalisa, setting a reflective tone before the microphone passed from one friend to another. We also reflected on Ekam Evadvitiyam meaning “One only, without a second,” translating into “We are just one” — an expression of oneness that offered common spiritual ground while respecting each person’s individual faith.

We spoke not to compare accomplishments, but to share life as it had actually unfolded: memories, gratitude, challenges, lessons learned, and experiences that might help someone else. Just as importantly, we listened.

A childhood classmate was no longer merely someone remembered from a school bench but an adult carrying 26 years of victories, disappointments, responsibilities, and untold stories. As one of us opened up, others did too. Laughter came easily, but so did tears. Some cried while speaking, others while listening; at times, words became unnecessary, and friends simply held one another.

Humor found its way into the room as well. One friend, who now owns a salon with his wife and works as a barber, described realizing his true calling only after years spent surviving Nepal’s punishing science and math exams. “Why did I do all that if I was destined to be a barber?” he asked, and the hall broke into laughter.

Not every memory landed as lightly. Several friends recalled teachers who had, at times, disciplined students unnecessarily and, in some cases, harshly. The memory that came up most was the day in class ten when the entire grade was punished together. Yet the conversation did not end in resentment. We also remembered the many teachers who had encouraged us, challenged us, and helped shape the people we later became.

The discussion gradually turned toward forgiveness—not as a way of denying what had happened or pretending that painful experiences did not matter, but as one possible way of loosening their hold on us. I reflected that some of the teachers who had acted harshly may themselves have been shaped by the educational practices of their time, often without the training, policies, or support that teachers have today. “Now that we have survived, if we can try to let go by practicing forgiveness, we may be able to release it from our memories, because it is something that continues to affect us psychologically rather than the people with whom those memories are associated,” I said. 

Friendship cannot replace professional help. But friendship can help people feel seen, heard, and less alone and connect them with the right support when needed. A planned discussion on friendship and health could not be completed due to lack of time, so I later shared an American Psychological Association article on the topic to continue the conversation.

Some of us described the experience as life-changing. Others called it historic—not simply because friends had reunited after 26 years, but because of what those days seemed to awaken. One friend reflected, “For me personally, those three days were life-changing events. I will never forget in my life. I felt so fresh and relaxed after this get-together.” Another said, “It was not only a reunion. I believe we created history. Every moment was special and remarkable.”

Paramananda Bastola described it as the beginning of a “new era,” reflecting, “Connecting to heal, healing every angle of our life. Being together is uplifting each other. A shared energy space is a miraculous wellness pool.”

Those three days also broadened everyone’s sense of what makes a community rich. Wealth does not exist only in money; it can reside in knowledge, skills, experience, relationships, compassion, and the willingness to help. The friends gathered in our batch alone were proof of it.

That realization led naturally to a larger question: if three days together could create such a sense of connection, what might become possible if the same trust were nurtured over years? Sometimes the most valuable contribution is simply a conversation, an introduction, or a friend willing to listen. What began as a reunion reinforced the idea that renewed friendship could grow into something larger.

The experience also gave new meaning to an early, informal idea the group had begun discussing before arriving in West Virginia—not a plan, just a thought still taking shape: Rooted in friendships that began as classmates, Blooming Lotus Fraternity envisions a community where the bonds formed in our school continue to grow through connection, mutual support, personal growth, and service for generations to come.

By the end, the words felt less like a banner and more like something lived. So did another phrase displayed at the gathering: “Revitalizing Friendship. Building Community.” The first part had begun.

The idea itself was not new. In 2015, a smaller gathering in Ohio carried the same “Blooming Lotus Fraternity” spirit and included students from other batches as well. Nearly a decade passed before many of us met again, but that earlier gathering helped shape this one.

The idea remains just that—an early thought, nothing more than that yet—not meant to change how any batch holds its own reunions, but simply an open door: if alumni across batches, along with former teachers and staff, ever wish to connect as a wider BLES family, that possibility is now worth exploring together.

The setting offered a fitting metaphor. The New River Gorge Bridge became more than a landmark; it became a symbol of connection. A bridge does not erase the distance between the two sides. It simply creates a way to reach one another.

Shortly after returning from the event, Prakash Dhungana, offering his own hope rather than a plan, reflected, “SLC Batch 2000 is a bridge connecting the batches that came before us and those that followed. This is just the beginning, and we hope it marks the start of bringing everyone together under one umbrella. May this connection continue to grow, strengthening our friendships, preserving our memories, and inspiring future reunions.”

The Class of 2000 has described itself as the BLES Vanguard—the same way we once led from the front, and, if ever needed, the ones willing to step forward again.

Bringing together a community separated by decades and geography will take patience. As I reflected during our discussions, “While it is challenging, if we are selfless in our intentions and dedicated in our actions, it is not difficult. It will take some time for sure.” What began with one batch in West Virginia could become something larger—not owned by the Class of 2000, but shared by the wider Blooming Lotus family. Former teachers and staff could reconnect with students whose lives they helped shape decades ago. And over time, those connections may even reach beyond the United States.

The 2026 reunion did not answer what comes next, nor was it meant to. It showed what happens when people make time to listen, trust, laugh, heal, and simply be present for one another.

 

Twenty-six years ago, Blooming Lotus brought students together in classrooms. Today, we carry decades of knowledge, struggle, and wisdom. If those journeys can reconnect—not only within one batch, but across batches, generations, and borders—our shared history could become more than something to remember. It could become something to build on.

What the Class of 2000 created in West Virginia was only the first span of a much longer bridge. Where that bridge leads, and who chooses to cross it, belongs to the larger BLES family. 

The friendships were revitalized. The idea has been voiced. Now comes the patient work of building community—together. Sometimes returning to where a friendship began is not about looking backward. 

It is how a new journey begins.