One of the most extraordinary and touching chapters in our family history is how my mother, Heera Devi Yami, lovingly allowed the names Timila and Hisila to be given to two of her daughters.
Behind these two names lies a much deeper narrative—one that connects our family to Lhasa, the Lhasa Newar community, the Bhansa Chhen family, and the Tibetan people with whom we shared long-standing relationships.
My mother was herself a daughter of the Lhasa Newar community from the Bhansa Chhen lineage. For generations, the Lhasa Newars maintained rich social, cultural, and commercial ties with Tibetan society. Because her family was well-respected throughout Lhasa, the city was not merely a distant setting in our lineage; it was a core part of our lived heritage.
It was within this vibrant world that my father, Dharma Ratna Yami, spent a memorable chapter of his youth.
As a teenager in Lhasa, my father developed a deep affection for a young Tibetan girl. Whenever they met face-to-face, he called her Hisila.
To communicate with her privately, he relied on his trusted friend Tashi to pass hidden messages. My father went to the extraordinary length of learning to read, write, and speak Tibetan specifically so he could draft these secret letters.
In those written pages, he addressed her as Timila.
Hisila was the name spoken in her presence; Timila was the name written in confidence. Two names bound to one young Tibetan girl, marking a hidden moment in my father's early life.
Decades later, an extraordinary turn of events brought those names back: Timila and Hisila became the names of two daughters born to Dharma Ratna and Heera Devi Yami.
What makes this account so remarkable is my mother’s perspective. She was no stranger to Lhasa. Coming from the Bhansa Chhen family, she understood the deep cultural ties and shared history between the Newar and Tibetan communities. She knew the origins of these names and their connection to a young woman from my father's past, yet she embraced them for her own daughters without bitterness, jealousy, or resentment.
Instead, she showed immense generosity of heart.
Perhaps she understood that the past cannot—and need not—be erased, or that early experiences inevitably shape the person one becomes. Guided by the confidence of a woman deeply secure in her identity and heritage, she accepted these names with grace.
To me, this is far more than a story about names. It is a testament to love, trust, memory, and the emotional strength of a woman who allowed a piece of her husband’s history to become part of her daughters' identities. It also reflects the historic connections between Nepal and Lhasa—bonds forged through travel, trade, language, and shared lives.
Today, when I speak the names Timila and Hisila, I recall the long path they took:
-
From a young man in Lhasa,
-
To a Tibetan girl he called Hisila in person,
-
To secret Tibetan letters where she was named Timila,
-
To a loyal friend, Tashi, who carried those notes,
-
And finally, to two daughters who carry those names today.
A Hope to Reconnect Two Families
Today, descendants of the Bhansa Chhen Lhasa Newar family share a sincere wish: to reconnect with the family and descendants of the Tibetan woman remembered as Hisila/Timila.
Her name has traveled across generations and woven itself into our family history. We would be deeply moved to learn if her family, descendants, or anyone within the Lhasa community still remembers her story.
This is not merely a search for someone from the past; it is an effort to honor a human connection that began in Lhasa decades ago. If you have any information, photographs, letters, family records, or oral histories that might help identify Hisila/Timila and her family, we would be profoundly grateful if you reached out.
Perhaps, after all these years, our two families can find each other once more—bridging Lhasa and Nepal, connecting the past to the present, and turning a quiet memory into a living connection.