(1/2) “My grandfather migrated to India a long time ago in search of a living. His crops had failed, so he had to borrow money from the village landlord. For food and to take the sickly of the family to the Lamas and the Dhamis. Sometimes a goat and sometimes a chicken were the demands for sacrifice to the Gods. Ultimately he lost all his land to the landlord and was left with nothing. So with very little hope he left the village for India. My parents were born there and so was I. I did go to school, until the 8th grade. But I also faced a lot of discrimination. A lot of name calling. I never felt like I belonged. So I decided to return to Nepal. I had a rickety bicycle which I sold for 200 rupees and without a whisper, I started walking towards the border. I walked for days, all my money was spent but the destination was unknown and the journey far. Sometimes I slept in caves and sometimes I stole pears from the forest-dwellers. Sometimes someone would come along and hand me some corn. I slept in barns and fields and sheds. And I walked. Oh, I walked. Through forests, river beds and rocky cliffs. This was more than half a century ago. Finally, I reached my ancestral village. I had 2 rupees left.” (Keshav Chandra Pokhrel, Num 6, Sankhuwasabha) ‪#‎StriveStruggleThrive‬