Earlier today I approached and befriended a few local Nepali girls who were rehearsing for their dance performance for Tihar, right outside the monastery where we are staying. While the language barrier was definitely more present, our interactions were filled with many smiles and fragmented phrases. I didn’t sense that they were uncomfortable with my presence, just a slight sense of awkwardness from a curious onlooker. After some introductory chatters, I learned that they are friends from school, and that they are 19, 20 years old. I was amused that one of the first few questions they asked me, was whether I was married already; I then learned that getting married at 20, 21 years old seems to be the norm for them, although, 30 years old seems to be the age to really get married and settled with a family. They then invited me to go to a cafe with them in Patan. 

On the way there, they asked me if I was bored because of the slight silence, and if I was cold because of the way I had my scarf wrapped around my shoulders. This demonstrates again that Nepali people are quite sensitive to others’ needs, as I had previously experienced and felt from hanging out with other Nepali friends old or new. One thing that was interesting to me: one of the girls, upon a brief chat, she told me her caste and asked me what mine was. It was a curious sense. I knew that she meant no harm and that this was just a casual and innocent question that is probably customary, but it almost felt like somebody asking me how much money I make, as it infers where you stand in the society. I told her that I do not have a caste, as this principle does not apply to where I come from. In retrospect, although no formally deemed as a caste system, but in our society, one is very much judged based on his/her choice of clothing, car, neighborhood of residence, education level, income, sometimes skin tone, et cetera, whether subconsciously or not, intentionally or not. Who are we to really proudly say that we don’t have such judgmental bias in our society.

At the cafe, they insisted that I look at the menu first, order first, and eat first. They each took turns feeding one another chowmein and momos, and feeding me also; they said it’s because we are all friends. It was such a sweet gesture and feeling of inclusion; despite our differences and language barrier, we were bonded by food, music, and dance moves — universal things that don’t necessarily require a common spoken language, or being in the same caste.