“I was only 10 years old when I lost my eye. I had found an attractive iron object while foraging for firewood. When I gave it to mother she had asked, “It must be a kilo, I will use it for weighing”. But she wanted to be sure so she sent me to weight the object to my neighbour Suraj’s house. It was less than a kilo. I went back home and was just handing it over to mother when it exploded. After that, I only remember being in a hospital in Dharan. And I also remember that I had already lost one of my eyes. I also remember weeping alone that night.

A distant relative seeing my desperate plight tried to take advantage of me. He would come to me and try to convince me into slavery. He would say, “Go work for this family and they will give you food. You do not have an eye and your parents are already poor. There is no one that will come looking for you with a marriage proposal. I will tell everyone that you eloped.” I figured he owed this family money and he wanted to repay his debt and interest by offering me to them. But I declined. I had lost my eye, not my brain. I told him that I would not do anything as such and that I would not leave my mother and father. He was not pleased and I sensed harm from him so I wasted no time to disclose everything that he has said to my mother who was in the other ward. She got worried that he would kidnap me from the hospital and sell me. Until we recovered we stayed together in one room in the hospital. Father was busy arranging money to pay the hospital bills. But we are poor people so it was difficult for father to arrange all that money. Although the hospital discharged us, we were not allowed to leave until we cleared the bill in full. The government did not offer us any relief at the time. As we waited for father to arrange money, we stayed in the same room in shame and fear. Finally, father came with the money and we were freed. The poor man must have taken a loan with high interest.

Even though mother and I survived, I could not find peace at home. I felt like I had become a burden to my family. Now that no one was going to come for me, I felt I had added more suffering to my poor mother and father. They loved me and never showed any bitterness towards me but my heart had become negative. Eventually, father found an orphan boy from our own community and we got married. I was only 14 years then. My husband lived with his relatives and a month into marriage they threw us out of their house. We had no place to go so we both came to my parent’s home asking for shelter. They let us. You see father and mother loved me and after a year or two, they built a hut nearby for me and my husband. And that is where we live now.

We bore three children. The eldest son died in an accident. A truck hit him while he was playing by the side of the road. He was only 7. Even today, I feel like my life has been cursed. My husband started to show his anger toward me after the incident. Even today, during times of stress, he tells me it was my irresponsibility that killed our son. Nothing has ever hurt me more than the words coming from some I love. The two girls go to the nearby government school. My husband has gone abroad searching for work and I do not know when he will be back. Sometimes he calls me on the phone that he gifted me. Sometimes he is a bit drunk and scolds me and brings up our lost son. I cry. For myself. And for him. But I do not show my tears to my two girls. I tell them happy things and cook them proper food.”