“When my father died, I was 16. He was in the police. He was a strict man of discipline. I remember, when we were kids, every morning before he left for work, I had to polish his boots and my brother had to iron his shirt. Even when he was home, during weekends, he would always be busy with one thing or the other – fixing things and keeping the house clean. And we had to be in standby, next to him for immediate assistance. Back then we complained. We didn’t understand why he made us do all this work. We were kids you know and we probably wanted to play. But now I understand. If it was not for what he made us do, I would still be complaining.”

– Neeraj Sapkota, Basundhara, Kathmandu.