Didi ko pasal
At the didi ko pasal I frequent, I've started to notice the quiet but persistent outlines of class difference shaping the space. The place itself is crammed into a tiny space in Lamodhunga, with three tables at the forefront and blue-coloured benches attached to them. The place itself is known for selling one of the best buff momos in the community [a pleasure in life I've abstained from]. The colour itself is hued with stains of smoke on the walls, but the real texture of the place lies not in the food, but in the social hierarchy it holds together. The people who gather here come from many walks of life and different material conditions: food delivery riders, daily wage labourers, tired mothers, corporate employees, and older men who have retired from government jobs. Among them, one retired man stands out. He seems to carry a different kind of ease- a financial cushion from being a petite bourgeoisie - that allows him to buy food, soda, raksi, and cigarettes for others. ...