“When I was 4, Mother and Father migrated to Nepal from Jaynagar in India. Father always told us about how difficult life was in his ancestral home. His brothers and sisters had died because cholera went untreated. The remaining villagers had abandoned the settlement in search of water. He told us how he was the last one to leave. When he arrived here he worked as a tenant farmer in exchange for rice to feed us. He was landless and the only property he had was a small mud hut, some pots and pans. We all grew up helping father and working in the fields of the landowners in the district. It was only when I turned 30 father was able to buy some land of his own, part of which let me plough so that I could take care of my wife and children. Today, though I have added some more to the land, life as a farmer is still difficult. Sometimes I wait for the rain and if it rains too much then I sit and pray. I have raised my children eating one meal a day. My daughters have already married and left home. My sons have left for the city to earn a living as farming cannot pay for the today’s growing expenses. So, it is just me and my wife at home now. And because there is no help and I cannot afford to hire workers, I have stopped going to the fields. Instead, I have started to plant cash crops in front of the house. Some for household use and some to sell. Life is moving on. Though I can sit in the corner and blame my fate for this hard life, I chose to spend my day sweating in the garden. For what did we bring and what will take? What is mine and what is yours?”