When We Look Away

Nepal Yatayat, the one from Tikathali to Baneshwor to Teaching Hospital to Chabahil, storms through the city like it owns the roads. The driver cuts through traffic with reckless confidence, while the conductor crams in passengers with ruthless precision. Standing in the aisle means gripping the handrail with all your might, your body swaying violently with each turn and abrupt stop. Even seated, you’re at the mercy of every jolt, your bones rattling, your stomach twisting.