A stroll around old alleys

If only I were rich, I used to say to myself long ago, but not anymore because in all likelihood I never will be.

It is 12 o’clock on a pleasant Wednesday afternoon. I find myself, as any unemployed man with a commerce degree would, taking a stroll along the ever-busy roads leading up to Maha Bouddha. A lot has changed over the years. The passing vehicles no longer provide a soundtrack to the energetic verses spit by the one-man marketing department of public vehicles, and Durbar High School opened by the Ranas now stands rejuvenated after an apparent makeover courtesy of the Chinese. Alas, the pond across the road and Dharahara, which is only a few minutes away on foot, still haven’t made it out of the operation theatre of post-earthquake recovery. One can only wonder about the cause of such discrepancy.