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On a warm Sunday afternoon, I met him in Patan Darbar Square. On earlier occasions I had seen him carrying water up the stairs of the Dhungedhara. I had offered help on almost all occasions and he...

Published14 December 2014
Reading Time 1 mins
Author Stories of Nepal
Location Nepal
Language

On a warm Sunday afternoon, I met him in Patan Darbar Square. On earlier occasions I had seen him carrying water up the stairs of the Dhungedhara. I had offered help on almost all occasions and he...

On a warm Sunday afternoon, I met him in Patan Darbar Square. On earlier occasions I had seen him carrying water up the stairs of the Dhungedhara. I had offered help on almost all occasions and he had generously declined - always with a childlike smile. This time as he climbed up the stairs and started walking I accompanied him and asked him his name. I realized he could not speak. As we continued walking through the square he made a few hand gestures which I failed to understand. Nonetheless, we walked together. He rested the water pots here and sat with a big sigh, wiping off the sweat dripping down the side of his face. I sat beside him ordered two cups of black tea from a nearby vendor and started taking his pictures.
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