“My friends would warn me against my decision. They would say, ‘What are you doing? He will sell you to a brothel.’ But I was in love like a mad person and those kind of things didn’t occur to me. So I left with him. We arrived in Kathmandu, got married and rented a small room. He found work as an electrician and I started to sew sweaters. For a while things were good and I was happy but that is when his drinking started. People would pay him in alcohol and pickles for the little fixings he did and eventually he got habituated. Alcohol was a part of the daily lives in our neighbourhood. Almost everyone drank. Things started to get worse when he started to buy alcohol and we had children. Every night, I would wait for him and shudder to hear his footsteps, not knowing what was going to happen. Sometimes people had to carry him home. He would buy new stuff for the house that we didn’t need, just on whim and I eventually I had to pay for it. And when he was drunk, he would break it. He wanted to live like a rich person while I paid for all his extravagance. I would find out about his loans and he would come crying and I would feel sorry for him and clear his loans too. My parents didn’t know anything about this as I always put a brave and smiling face in public. My children grew watching their father wreck havoc in the family. My friends suggested that I leave him but I had children and I had no where to go. But more than that, I still loved him.” (2/3)