“10 years ago, my mother left my alcoholic father. She took us with her. I remember that day when we arrived at our our aunt’s house where a man was waiting. I was only 10 years old. But I remember. They were talking about something when I got hungry. I must have said, ‘Mother I am hungry’. I clearly remember my aunt dragging me out of the room and warning me not to call my mother, ‘mother’ in front of that man. I didn’t know what to make of it then. I was only a kid you know. I went back into the room and bewildered I watched my mom, as I heard her say, “He is not my son. He is just a neighbors boy and he calls me mother as I bring him candies sometimes.” The next day she left with that man and took my sister with her never to return but left me behind to stay with my aunt. From that day on every time someone asks me about my mother, I tell them that she is dead. I might forgive her one day, as she might have had her reasons but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget.” (Ashish Shrestha, Saugal, Patan, Lalitpur)