“Few years ago, on my way back home, a truck hit me. I survived the ordeal with three broken bones in my leg. I could not walk. The children would leave for school and my wife to work and I would be home alone. I somehow would stack mattresses in my bed and sit on it to get a view of the busy street below from the window. And for several months I watched the street. Everyday for several months. I saw all kinds of people. Old. Young. Dogs. Kids running. Men running. Cars and micros honking. Everyone looked so busy. And I wondered, where are all these people coming from? And where are they going? And what for?”
– Laxman Kafle, Met him in Kamal Pokhari, Kathmandu