Munu Lopchan Lama Gatlang, Rasuwa
“My mother died when I was four. I do not know what she looked like. I remember her but sadly, without her image in my eyes. Now that we talk about her, I wonder if she resembled my daughter. My daughter is my hope in this world. Sometimes, I keep looking at her for a long time that I forget the lentils I put on the stove until they turn black.”
