Due to my advancing age, I feel like living a hard life even though my body sometimes does not support me. I have spent more than half of my life in the squatter settlement on the banks of the river in Biratnagar Metropolitan City-2. The noise of the city, the smoke from burning corn, and the tired faces that I see in the settlement in the morning seem like my friends. I am now 65 years old. I drive a cart.

Sometimes I also help my wife roast corn. And, today my wife was not feeling well. And I came to roast corn after putting down the cart. I cannot find raw corn in Biratnagar. So in the morning I go to Itahari, 20 kilometers away, and bring corn. I buy raw corn from the farmers there for 20 rupees per sack. For me, that is an expensive investment.

When I sell the corn brought from Itahari for roasting, I charge only 30 rupees. I don't think I can make much profit. I give 25 rupees per sack to those who buy raw corn. I make a profit of 10 rupees per sack for roasted corn and 5 rupees per sack for raw corn. I say this is not profit, it is a service fee. Because we are serving the customers by going far away and bringing corn.

In the afternoon, I come to the big mill square near Kanchanwari and sit to roast corn. My face turns black with smoke, my back burns with the sun, but while I turn the corn over the fire, I remind myself, ‘This is my way of earning, this is the art of my hands.’ Some may wonder, what kind of income do you get from roasting corn? But, my experience says, ‘Earnings of sweat are the most honest income in the world.’

Sometimes I earn 400 a day. Sometimes it reaches 500. Sometimes it comes to more than that, sometimes I just have to put out the fire. But I never complain. Because if I stop working, my family goes hungry. I have to be patient and roast corn for my family. Whether it’s the cold of Pus or the scorching heat of Jestha, I have to roast corn. I like cold more than summer. It is easy to roast corn over a fire, and easy to sell it. In the summer, the work is difficult. It is equally difficult in the rain. My family is large. Earlier, there were 24 people. Now, that number has decreased. There are still 10 people under my roof. Two brothers and a son, four grandchildren, daughter-in-law, my old woman and me. One son lives with his in-laws, and his children are also there. The four of us who earn are me, my wife and two sons. The remaining six do not earn. The grandchildren are studying, the daughters-in-law take care of the children along with the housework. Our living expenses are also shared. The earnings are also spent together. We earn around 30-40 thousand. It may seem like we earn a lot, but the expenses are the same. There are many mouths to eat, but few hands to earn. In such a large family, half of the income can be spent on buying only pulses, rice, vegetables, oil, salt, and clothes. It is difficult to meet all the expenses such as the education of grandchildren and such expensive treatment.

Earnings from sweat are the most honest income in the world.

I could never travel with my family . I could never stay in a hotel and eat delicious food . My dream is not very big, but I can't fulfill that either . One day, I would like to eat a meal in a restaurant with my family . But, that too has become like 'Lash's gold' for me . How can I collect hundreds of thousands by selling 25-30 rupees of maize ? But still, life goes on . I stumble, fall, and get up again . Because I am not only responsible for myself, but for the entire family . Sometimes my grandchildren say, 'Bapuji, when we grow up, we will repay your hard work!'  I love festivals. I bring lights to the whole house on Diwali and watching the joy of worship on the banks of the river on Chhath makes my heart happy. Life seems even more beautiful when my granddaughters apply colors on Holi. During festivals, I buy new clothes for everyone in the family. No matter how cheap it is, the grandchildren are happy to see the new clothes, the sons are proud, and the daughters-in-law are also happy. But I also have some dreams, which have never been fulfilled. When I hear that, I can hardly hold my heart . I think, how sweet that is . I have suffered all my life . But suffering has become my identity . The smoke of the corn, the crackling of the fire, the fatigue of the evening, all these are teaching me how to live life. Sometimes I think, man is a wonderful creature. He keeps complaining but never stops moving. To live, you have to keep moving, right?