My Childhood
Where It Began
I am Dipmoina Dowarah, born and raised in a small town called Moran — tucked towards the eastern edge of Assam, India. During our childhood, Moran was all greenery. Paddy fields stretched endlessly on both sides of the highway that ran through the heart of the town, swaying with the seasons, breathing with us.
The Games We Played
Those days were filled with every kind of play a child could imagine — from bride and groom to hide and seek, from drama and war to football, badminton and cricket. We moved between worlds: the open fields, the cool pools, and the deep jungles beyond.
The Wild and the Free
We swam in the pools, wandered into the jungles hunting for wild fruits, and — let us be honest — sometimes we stole fruits from other people’s gardens too. Small crimes, innocent hearts. We were, in every sense, children of the earth.
“We spent our childhood to the fullest — with a little mischief, a lot of laughter, and all the freedom the green land of Moran could give.”
The Boy Nobody
Counted.
Shy ·
Timid · Underweight · Unbreakable
The Boy I Was
Even within the gang, there was a boy who was always a little on the outside. Shy. Timid. With little to no self-confidence. A member in name, but rarely counted — not in games, not in fun, not in the way the others were. That boy was me.
A Body That Struggled
I was always the leanest, the thinnest, the one who looked like the wind could carry him away. Poor health was my oldest companion — always underweight, always on the margins of what a healthy young body was supposed to look like. This stayed with me, quietly and stubbornly, all the way until I was 38 years old.
Hostel, First Day
On my very first day in the hostel, while others arranged their books on the reading table — I arranged my medicines. My seniors saw it, and by nightfall a poster had appeared on my table. It read: “Dead Pharmacy.”
From then and till today my hostel mats called me with a particular nick name (that I wish to keep in cover here ), which is more famous than my real good name. And today as I write this I weigh 70 KG with a balance fitness.
Love for the Naure
Green · Birds · Animals · Distance Longing
A Bond I Cannot Explain
I do not know exactly why — perhaps it was all those years spent barefoot in the paddy fields, in the pools, in the jungles of Moran. But from as far back as I can remember, I have always felt the nature from within. Not just seen it. Felt it. Like it was breathing the same breath as me.
What I Loved
I loved the greens — their depth, their quiet hum. I loved the birds, each one a tiny world of its own. I loved the animals, wild and unhurried. And above all, I loved the distant hills — those blue shapes on the horizon that seemed to hold secrets too large for the flatlands to contain.
The Calling
Those hills in the distance — I did not just look at them. I wished to go to them. Always. There was something in their silence that answered a question inside me that I did not yet know how to ask.
““Nature was never outside of me. It was the very first language I ever understood..”
I was in Class V when we visited an aunt in Dhemaji. From her home, I could see them — blue hills on the horizon, the hills of Arunachal Pradesh. I did not know then how far they truly were. I only knew one thing: I had to go to them. I insisted my elder cousin brothers, again and again, to take me there.
The Passion Growing in Silence
And during my corporate tenure of nearly 10 years in Guwahati, we often used come down to Meghalaya in our weekends, the beautiful hill state of North east India, and looking at the majestic hills of Meghalaya I often spoke out, -“one day I will climb these hills.” Then I did not know that it was not me that insisted my cousin brothers to take me to the distance hills of Aruanchal Pradesh, that spoke of climbing the hills of Meghalaya, but it was the inner instinct in me and the passion that was trying to sprout. That instinct, that passion was there from my very childhood and was growing very silently inside me like an womb. I spent a reasonable tenure in corporate world and almost successfully. But there was always something that was constantly knocking at my heart reminding again and again that the life that I was spending with the corporate was not made for me; I had to break the walls of the corporate and find no boundaries.
Knowing the Passion
One fine morning probably on 2nd October 2013, I put my paper down. I left the corporate life, I left my work place Guwahati, and started to drive my car anywhere in Arunachal Pradesh, without knowing exactly what I was trying to find or get, but I gave a name to it as “Explorer and Adventure”. Eventually I met Tine Mena, the first lady Everester from North East India. With her encouragement I did Mehao Lake trek with few of my friends, her father and cousins, in Mehao Wildlife sanctuary.
Where the Journey Truly Began.
August 2014 · Athu-popu · The trek that answered everything
The Mehao Lake trek had lit something. A few months later, in August 2014, Dipmoina and Tine Mena set out again — this time with a handful of others — towards one of the most raw trails in the region: the Athu-popu trek in Arunachal Pradesh.
The Athu-popu trek is not a gentle trail. It is raw, remote, and one of the most risky treks in Arunachal Pradesh — deep jungle, river crossings, near-vertical ridges, and the kind of silence that forces you to listen to yourself.
This was the beginning.
Standing on those trails, something snapped into focus — the boy in Dhemaji who stared at blue hills, the young man on the Meghalaya highway who said “one day I will climb these”, the corporate worker with something always knocking at his heart — it all connected. He finally understood the thread.
On the Athu-popu trail, I could finally relate to the word — why I had always been pulled to the hills, why the instinct had grown silently inside me like a womb. i did not find the answer on the trek. He found the question. And that was everything.
The Beautiful Pain of Passion.
A new kind of addiction
I understood why I wanted to break the four walls of the corporate. I am meant to see the world. I started to move in the direction that I felt as mine. I did not know whether I followed my passion or the passion chased me. But I gradually started to feel good, could sleep well at nights. As if I could speak with destiny. Yeh, it feels so good being with your own passion, but passion has another side of it, and that side draws you down 100 times from where you keep the step up. It is unavoidable, you have to go through innumerable tests, have to suffer a lot, you are broken tons of times, you forget to cry, but every time you will rise up again with something new in you.
““You are living a life not in heaven, not in hell, but a life you have shaped yourself. You are addicted to something that others afraid to taste. It is a new addiction, the pain of which you enjoy..”
The Two ‘P’s Hardly Shakes Hands
Passion and Parents · The oldest collision in a dreamer’s life
When you come to know your passion and start to live with it, your parents would come first to separate you from your passion with their full strength and power. and if they can not do the same they brand themselves as the most embarrassing parents. The same happened to me too, not only the parents but each and every member in my family circle tagged themselves as the most frustrated with me.
When you follow your passion, your family’s fear is the first mountain you must climb — before you ever reach the real ones.
Journey of entrepreneurship
My journey as an entrepreneur began with a deep connection to my passions. Along this path, I have gathered many stories—stories that, someday, may take shape as meaningful pieces of writing if I choose to bring them together.I started by engaging in the work I truly love, often capturing moments and reflections in writing and sharing them on social media. Much of what I have written so far revolves around adventure—especially trekking and mountaineering—experiences that have shaped my perspective and spirit.At times, I also find myself writing about everyday life—my thoughts, feelings, and personal experiences. These expressions don’t always fit into a defined category; sometimes they resemble poems, sometimes articles. I may not always know what to call them, but I do know that I feel a deep sense of satisfaction in expressing myself through words.