I was taking a respite from my demanding schedule, embarking on a journey from Kathmandu to Pokhara, seeking a tranquil escape to relax and recharge. As the bus rumbled along the winding roads, I found myself seated beside a man named Nir. His presence exuded an aura of quietude, yet his eyes bore a weight of hidden pain, concealed behind a faint but persistent smile.

source:- english.khabarhub.com

Down the streets of Kathmandu's New Bus Park, one old man was Murmuring. His screeching voice saying that, "it's a curse of Sati that all Nepalese should go through the political, economic and social problems forever and the good doers will never be appreciated" and so on. harkening back at those old man's words, I was astounded by and somewhere deep inside pensively, the words he was saying were so true and worthy to envisage on. Hundreds of questions in mind and maundering around.