“The school in my village ran only up to the 5th grade. So I had to discontinue because the nearest high school was 3 hours walk. I found work as a peon that paid me a mere 150 rupees a month. It was lot of hard work for so little. By this time I was 14, I had toiled enough and I was looking for better opportunities. Someone in my village suggested India, so I left. I found work as a tailor and then as a cook in the Gurkha Regiment of the Indian army. The job took me everywhere from Delhi to Leh and Ladakh. The pay was okay, but they never made me a permanent staff, which only meant they could lay me off anytime, so I decided to quit. I opened a small lodge with a partner. But you know how it is. I had to bear a heavy loss and had to close down. By this time, I had spent 15 years in India. I thought it was time to go back home. I returned to see that the roads had reached my village and decided to do something there. I opened up a rice mill. But you know how it is. Everyone started to say I’ll pay tomorrow and in no time I ran out of cash to operate the machinery. So I decided to close the mill. Someone in the village then suggested Malaysia, and I left for Kathmandu. But they failed me in medical grounds. You know all that dust and saw, while working in the mill, had accumulated in my lungs. By this time, I had spent all my money and all I had left to the last paisa was 30,000 rupees. Tired, I was returning home and something told me to get off the bus. I got of the bus at Kalanki, walked around and decided to buy a shutter. That was 12 years ago. Today, my tea shop is probably one of the busiest here and I earn in thousands and sometimes lakhs. But today I ask myself, was it really money that I was after or something else.”