My dream was always to be a chef. Growing up in a kitchen environment, surrounded by people who loved what they did, I knew I wanted that life too. 

I started young, in a bakery. I was frustrated at first. Confused. I didn't know if this was really for me. So I left. But I came back. That's when things shifted.

I then became a bakery head. I started learning seriously. Then I worked with my uncle as a helper. I was watching. Learning. Growing. Slowly, I became a CDP. But I wasn't satisfied. I felt like there was more.

I joined my Bachelor’s Degree and then came “The Bahrain Internship”. That internship changed me.

I worked under Marco Teranova, an ex-chef from Fiamma, Justin Thomas, a Greek CDC/Sous chef and Suvadeep Hazard. These three men weren't just my bosses. They were my mentors. They believed in me when I was just a kid trying to prove himself.

They worked me 14 hours a day. They pushed me. They demanded excellence. I was hospitalized and was sick for three months. But they waited for me. They believed I'd come back.

That belief meant everything.

I came back from that internship as a star performer. I got an appreciation certificate. But more than that, I got discipline. I got standards. I got a vision of what a real chef looks like.

When I returned to Nepal, I was frustrated. I expected a high position. But restaurants here work differently. It's not about what you know. It's about power. I was doing nothing for 4-5 months, wondering if I'd made a mistake.

Then I saw Sicily in reels. Something about it felt different. I didn't send a CV. I called directly. I asked for a chef position. They offered helper instead.

I took it anyway.

Because that's what I learned from my mentors — you don't worry about titles. You worry about growing.

At Sicily by T's, I experimented. I created. I made Lasagna — it flopped. Then Anulete, Bonote Capalete, Tortellini Parmigiana, Gnocchini. Each dish taught me something. I'd dream about recipes. I'd sketch them at home. I'd list ingredients. I'd plan how to launch them.

The team at Sicily was young and friendly. They didn't have the intensity of Bahrain, but they had heart. They gave me space to create. That mattered.

Before Sicily, I was under everyone. Now, even though I'm still learning, there are people under me. I want to be for them what my mentors were for me. Strict, yes. Demanding, yes. But because I believe in them.

The journey from frustrated bakery kid to chef wasn't easy. There were moments I wanted to quit. There were moments I didn't know if this was worth it. There were moments I was so tired I forgot why I started.

Then came Anima Maharhan. My girlfriend. Before her, I was surviving. Just working, earning, existing. After her, I started living. She understood me. She saw who I was trying to become. She changed me.

She made me see that being a chef isn't just about feeding people. It's about growing. About becoming better. About having standards and holding people to them — not because you're mean, but because you care.

Outside the kitchen, I sketch. I sing. I bike. These things keep me sane. They keep me creative. They remind me that life is about more than just cooking.

I'm not patient by nature. But my journey taught me patience. I'm not naturally soft. But my mentors taught me when to be firm and when to listen. I'm not naturally confident. But Anima taught me to believe in myself.

Sicily was a chapter. An important one. But my story as a chef is just beginning.

showed me support. Anima showed me growth. And Sicily showed me that I can create.

Every lesson, every moment, every person — they all shaped who I am as a chef. They taught me that cooking is more than food. It's about standards. It's about believing in people. It's about creating something that matters.

Now, I want to be that mentor for someone else. I want to be the person who believes in them when they don't believe in themselves. I want to push them, challenge them, and show them what excellence looks like.

That's what being a chef means to me.