Sat, 03 Jun, 2023


By Asmita Bista

Picture Courtesy: DWIT News

“Daddy, what are we eating for dinner?”

I looked at my daughter. She was hungry and I could clearly see it in her eyes. I wanted to give answers, but I did not have any. I stayed silent.

“Daddy, tell nah, what are we eating?”

“Chhori, I’ll make something special and that’s a surprise for you. Now go and read.”

I could see that excitement in her eyes. She kept on guessing for some time and then opened her books.

I did not have any idea about what to make for dinner. It was already 7 PM. I looked in the fridge; I could not find anything except for a bottle of water. I kept some money in my upper pocket of the shirt and went outside. The noisy road was then quiet. I could not see any open shops. Since the blockade of the Nepal-India border had been implemented by the Indian Government, everyone was worried. The political situation of the country was not going well. Shortage of food, fuel and other necessary items had increased.

For the first time, I felt guilty for being born in a middle class family. I knew those high class families were managing foods and fuels with the power of their money. How can I be rich working as a primary level teacher in a school? How can I afford to buy food, unnecessarily paying a huge amount of money? I felt very depressed. I did not know what to do. I remembered the hungry face of my daughter. I could not go home with empty hands.

I always tried my best to fulfill every wish my daughter had. I never allowed her to feel the void that was created after her mother’s death. She was not only my daughter, but also my whole world. I could not even think of letting her cry for food. This pinched me very hard. I did not know what to do. I realized I had reached very far from home and still had nothing for my daughter.

I could neither go forward nor go back home….