My Friend Dipak

It takes only a few minutes after I send a quick “Saturday 6:00” text to get an “ok sir” reply. Every time, without fail. This exchange has taken place more than 100 times during my years in Kathmandu, Nepal, and while it may not seem like a warm exchange, for me and Dipak, it’s the language of our friendship. We know we’re about to enjoy four more hours together. I first came to know Dipak as my caddie, but now he is much more.

Growing up playing public golf in Portland, Oregon, in the late 1990s, my buddies on the high school team and I only associated caddies with country clubs and the PGA Tour. But after moving overseas in 2009 and playing golf throughout Asia, I had to adjust to the culture of always taking a caddie. So when I first played at Gokarna Forest Golf Course in Kathmandu, in 2019, I knew I’d be randomly paired with a local. Since I would be living and playing there, I wanted to find a caddie who could be a long-term partner. That first was respectful and professional, but there was no connection. By the time Dipak and I got to the first green, however, it was clear he was the one.

Over the last four years, our friendship has extended well beyond Gokarna’s lush fairways. I’ve met Dipak’s wife by arranged marriage, Jayante, and their son and daughter. I’ve introduced him to my dad back in Portland on video calls (they, too, converse like friends now), given him some of my favorite cigars to try (he’s fond of Maduros, just like me) and provided him with additional money every couple of months to help pay for his daughter’s monthly school fees (school isn’t free here after 10th grade). It’s even spilled over to my playing partners: Whenever I can’t make a round, they race to ask him for the loop.

He’s carried my bag through heavy monsoon rains, helped flick the juka (leeches) off my ankle and been right the majority of the time on reading putts—though that doesn’t stop me from playfully arguing when I don’t agree. Alongside his reliability on the bag, Dipak also happens to have a buttery swing. The first time I asked him to take a shot on the 145-yard, par-3 13th at Gokarna, he stuck an 8-iron to 3 feet. He didn’t say a word—just smiled at me and nodded.

Sadly, this is not a permanent arrangement. I will finish my time in Kathmandu in a few years, and the goodbye will be difficult. There will be so many memories, but I expect my mind will always drift back to walking the uneven and overgrown fairways at Gokarna, with the Himalayas just poking over the foothills, a troop of monkeys scurrying by and Dipak a few steps ahead, leading the way.

Jeremiah O’Sullivan has been a Broken Tee Society member since 2021. Lead image courtesy of Gokarna Forest Resort.