Last month, while heading to Kathmandu from Dang in a passenger bus, I ran into a lady in her mid-twenties. She was carrying two kids. She sat besides me and requested me for the window seat, which I couldn’t refuse. I was a bit reluctant to break the ice. Anyway, I had to take one of her children on my lap, as it was a long journey.

I thought it to be inhumane on my part, a young man, seeing a lady in distress. This led me to take one of her kids on my lap. I came to know that the lady was from Salyan, a neighbouring district of Dang.

On my lap was a little girl of five or six years. I looked into her innocent and gorgeous eyes. She gave a faint smile like a bud opening into a flower at the kiss of the sunrays. I asked her name in a loving tone. But her mother had to do a lot of prodding to make her answer my question.

I came to know that she was Sanu. I loved the name. Sanu was fond of sweets. I gave her chocolates and we soon fell in love. Her calling me uncle reminded me of my own brother’s little daughter Salu. However, Sanu pulled my hair and nose, which enthralled me and drove me into the nostalgia of childhood.

Seeing at apparently moving trees on the roadside, she asked, “Uncle why are they moving?” Her question made me realise how innocent the childhood is. “Because they love Sanu, they want to follow you,” I answered. This quenched her curiosity. I wondered at the law of nature as mature psyche prevents us from enjoying innocent pleasures of life. Sanu’s constant moving on my lap, throwing a bunch of nonsense, and asking for more sweets was a headache to her mother as she was concerned about my comfort. We became so intimate that I could not even scold her. But even if I did scold her, she would compose her face with her lower lip protruding out and uttering obstinate voices to show her anger. I knew the remedy was nothing more than a bar of chocolate.

At last we arrived at Gongabu bus park. It was painful to leave Sanu after a 12-hour friendship. There was no option but to succumb to the cruel reality and say good-bye. Heavens! I forgot to ask her number. God made me leave my loving Sanu but the hope of meeting her once again still lingers in my heart.