Today, a little brother contacted me.
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I still remember the people who took such great care of me when I was alone, aged 16, in a foreign country, ignorant of the local customs and language, unaccomstamed to the food (Dhal Bhat) and weather. The language barrier did not stop us from developing wonderful relationships, that of mother and daughter, and siblings alike. I still remember how delicious Ah Ma's Aloo and Nann were, and how she was worried I was surviving on just potatoes and bread (I gave up having Dhal Bhat everyday pretty soon). And the wonderful Chai she made, and which I so unsuccessfully tried to brew myself (she had generously gave me a packet of the tea leaves she uses before I left).

And I still remember the day I was first introduced to the famliy, and how tickled they were when I used the same Nepali sentence to introduce myself again and again to the many members of this family. And how excited they were when they helped me dress myself in a Sari to attend a wedding. The day me and the kids brought food to those working in the rice fields, me carrying the kettle while they carried heavy buckets of rice and vegetables. The time the boys killed a cockroach for me just so I can use the shower. Did I mention the day I forgot to turn the tap off and used up their supply of hot water? And not one word of frustration from this people. They just laughed kindly. And how the girls helped me with my laundry, after seeing obvious remains of mud in the laundry load I had declared as washed and clean.

Years has passed since I left this family, and yet I still get the odd emails and messages telling me that they miss me, urging me to visit them.
Such beautiful people and with such kind hearts.

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I told the little brother, now a find handsome young lad (you such see all those flirty messages he get on his photo album), the next time I go back to Nepal, it would be to attend one of their wedding. Which I believe would be pretty soon.