As part of our residential training, every participant was required to engage in at least one co-curricular activity. There were plenty of options to choose from—sports, gym, music, dance, and many others. Being naturally curious and always interested in creative expression, I decided to explore the art class.
On the very first day, our art guru introduced us to the fundamentals of drawing. He spoke about colors, color combinations, visual balance, and the power of artistic expression. It was fascinating. Around me, my fellow participants were already sketching ideas inspired by their cultures, traditions, history, and personal experiences.
Initially, I planned to paint something that reflected my roots. As someone from Madhesh Province, I considered depicting the Chhath Festival, one of the most significant cultural celebrations of my community. The idea felt safe and familiar. Yet something inside me hesitated
One lesson I had carried from my time at the Staff College was simple: think beyond the obvious; think outside the box.
That advice kept echoing in my mind.
The first day was frustrating. I drew lines, erased them, and drew them again. Nothing seemed right. While others were steadily progressing, I sat staring at a blank page, wrestling with ideas. The more I tried to force creativity, the more elusive it became.
Then an unusual thought crossed my mind.
If I was supposed to think outside the box, why stop there? Why not think outside the Earth itself?
Suddenly, a word appeared in my mind:
Alien.
I laughed at the idea.
An alien? In an art exhibition?
But the thought refused to leave.
Then I asked myself an important question: Why an alien? What would it represent?
I recalled the countless stories, documentaries, and movies I had watched about UFO sightings and alleged alien abductions. Whether true or not, such stories have fascinated humanity for generations. They represent mystery, imagination, and our endless curiosity about the unknown.
At that moment, the concept became clear.
I would paint a scene where a UFO descends upon a Nepali village. An alien visitor would arrive from another world and begin taking away cattle, carts, and even people for mysterious research. The setting would remain distinctly Nepali, a rural village surrounded by familiar landscapes, ordinary people living ordinary lives, suddenly confronted by something extraordinary.
Armed with a rough sketch, I presented the idea to our art guru.
He listened carefully and then smiled.
"Is this really possible?" he asked. "There is no proven evidence for such events. Perhaps you should reconsider before investing your time in it."
I replied jokingly, "If it is true, one day it will reveal itself. Until then, let my imagination do the work."
The guru laughed and allowed me to proceed.
From that moment onward, the painting began to take shape. I blended images of rural Nepal with elements of science fiction. Traditional village life met the unknown mysteries of outer space. Every brushstroke added another layer to the story.
About a week after I had committed to the idea, news reports emerged that U.S. President Donald Trump intended to support the release of additional information related to unidentified aerial phenomena and classified records. Although the announcements contained nothing resembling the dramatic scene in my painting, the coincidence was enough to spark laughter among my classmates.
Our art guru would jokingly tell me, "NASA will call you soon. They need an expert on aliens!"
Those jokes became one of the most enjoyable parts of the experience.
Eventually, after days of effort, experimentation, and countless corrections, the painting was complete. It portrayed a colorful and imaginative scene: a UFO hovering above a Nepali village, an alien conducting its mysterious mission, villagers caught between fear and curiosity, and the everyday beauty of rural Nepal serving as the backdrop.
When the day of the art exhibition arrived, I felt an overwhelming sense of pride. It was not because the painting was technically perfect. It was because the artwork represented something deeply personal the freedom to imagine, the courage to be different, and the willingness to explore an unconventional idea when everyone else was following more familiar paths.
Standing beside my artwork and sharing its story with visitors was one of the happiest moments of the entire training program.
Looking back, the painting was never really about aliens.
It was about curiosity.
It was about creativity.
It was about daring to look beyond what is visible and imagining what might exist beyond the horizon.
After all, every great discovery begins as an idea that once sounded impossible.
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