Simple Happenings in Life:

1.       Last night we were finishing up our dinner of daalbhaat (rice, lentils, and saag—it’s like spinach with a spicy flavor) when our saani naani (the younger of the two babygirls) had to poop… or started to poop.  My bhaauju (sister-in-law) grabbed saani and ran outside.  A couple moments later she comes back in and we can see saani standing at the door with her pants down.

“Did she poop?” we ask.

“She did but she has to go again and I’m scared,” bhaauju replies.

“Scared of what?” we ask.

“Outside. It’s dark outside and I’m scared so I need this light because it’s brighter. I’ll leave this other light here,” she replies.

“You’re scared?!” my mom says and starts laughing. “Samikshya (that’s me) always goes out to the toilet at like 12 or 1 am and she’s not scared, right?” as she turns to me.

“Yup…” I say, thinking, “Actually…. I never usually go out to the toilet at that time, I just pee in a bucket in my room (TMI).”

“Whatever, I’m scared and I’m taking this light,” says my bhaauju and she leaves for the toilet.

                Some footnotes for this convo:

-          The electricity was out, so the lights I’m referring to are rechargeable electric lamps.

-          Our bathroom, or squat-toilette, is behind the house; a separate entity if you couldn’t guess.

-          My nepali name is Samikshya.

I just thought this was funny so I wanted to share.

2.       After dinner, I went upstairs to my host-parents’ bedroom and sat around with them.  The electricity was still out, so I read a book by my battery-powered lantern while saani was scribbling on a notebook with a brown marker I gave to my aama (mom) earlier that week.  Saani and my bhaauju left for bed and I stuck around to finish the chapter I was on.  I looked over and saw my aama writing in Nepali, or trying to (I’ve never asked her if she was literate or not). Then I realized, I don’t know my aama’s name.  I know everyone’s name in this household because they have phones or I’ve needed their information in the past for whatever reason, but I’ve never needed to know my aama’s name. I just call her aama. So, I asked her, “Aama, what’s your name?”  She smiles and my baa (dad) replies, “Pabii Bhandari”.  I smiled. I continued to read my book when I looked over at my aama again and saw she was trying to write her name on the notebook. When my baa noticed what she was doing he stepped in and began teaching her how to write her name in Nepali script.  He gave her all these shortcuts and tried to simplify how to write it, but I think it confused her.  She turned to me and said, “I think I’ll stick to cutting the grass and feeding the goats. It’s easier than this, isn’t it Samikshya?”  I laughed.  My aama is 63 years old.  It brought a smile to my face to see my aama bent over the notebook, writing the same letters over and over again as I left the room for bed.