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With a body tired from a day's work, I board the evening train in Japan. Walking from the room to the station has a kind of mechanical feel to it – trains that arrive exactly on time, fixed platforms and disciplined crowds of passengers. As soon as I enter the train, I feel that I am not just a passenger, I have become a small piece of time.
In one corner of the train, there are Japanese passengers, some are flipping Excel sheets with their eyes buried in the laptop, some are serious about the office meeting on their mobile phones, while some are reading a book without emotion with earphones in their ears. All these are disciplined people. They have government, facilities, stability and a planned future. But in the shadow of that discipline, I see a kind of silent pain - where there is no laughter, no companionship, let alone fun, there is no courage to make eye contact.
In the other corner of the same train, I see - our Nepali friend. Some are enjoying themselves with a can of beer in their hand, some are laughing at their own jokes on their mobile phones, some are trying to fall asleep with a friend's shoulder, leaving behind the tiredness of the day. A packet of noodles by someone's side, fruit hanging in someone's bag. There is no plan for tomorrow, there is no knowing where the future will lead, but there is a kind of contentment in them that no Excel seat can measure.
The truth is that we Nepalis have probably learned the most difficult art in the world - 'The art of finding happiness even in lack.'
To be honest, we don't worry about tomorrow. Because we live now. We rejoice now, love now, weep now, and laugh now. Our present is not empty, it is full of feeling, of intimacy, of aliveness.
Yes, we are born in want, but live in complacency. We have learned to laugh even in the dark. We know how to rejoice even with empty pockets. We don't have a plan, but a feeling. We don't have money, but we have love.
On the train that evening I realize our fun isn't just superficial. That is our resistance, our confidence, our way of living.
And at that time my heart says silently - 'I am proud to be a Nepali.'
– Santosh Simkhada, Tokyo, Japan
