This is the first time I have written anything in Nepali in about 8 years - just an attempt to bring together two languages I am familiar with. I&nbsp;started this story about 2 years ago, and finished it yesterday. I&nbsp;might come up a &quot;lighter&quot;&nbsp;piece soonish as well. (There is enough sorrow around all of us anyways!)&nbsp; Epilogue LAX, 10:20 pm &ldquo;Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned on the Fasten Seat Belt sign. If you haven&rsquo;t already done so, please stow your carry-on luggage underneath the seat in front of you or in an overhead bin.&hellip;&hellip;. Prasanna checked his phone for the last time before the eight hour flight to Bangkok. A couple generic listserv emails, a few facebook notifications from his pals, and ten or so texts from his relatives in LA wishing him a safe trip. Coddle me more, will you?, he muttered, as he flipped through his GQ magazine and waited for his first trip to home in two years. Prakash sat six seats behind him, perusing the pages of American Dervish, a book that his religion professor had recommended. Although Nepali public schools had failed him terribly in deciphering the testing vocabulary Ayad Akhtar used, his diligence and craving towards learning was laudable. He struggled to turn off his Nokia with a ballpoint pen, a daily chore since he had dropped the phone last year and didn&rsquo;t have funds for an upgrade. Twenty three hours, a couple disgusting McDonalds sandwiches, and three chick-flicks later, Prakash and Prasanna landed in TIA, Nepal. _________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Prasanna was greeted by a throng of relatives in the airport terminal. It was a scene right out of a Sooraj Bajratya movie, if you will &ndash; uncles with garlands, aunties wearing gold that probably weighed as much as them, and cousins Prasanna had never seen before. After exchanging the usual &ldquo;darshans&rdquo;, and &ldquo;babu ta kasto khailagdo bhaecha&rdquo; conversations, Prasanna finally made it to the back of his family Jeep. ________________________________________________________ &nbsp;&ldquo;हैन ए बाबु, कत्ति तेइ कम्प्युटर मा झुन्डेर बस्छ्स, कैले काइ त एस्सो बसेर गफ गर न &rdquo; Prasanna knew exactly what was coming next, and as much as would have loved to avoid the conversation, he indolently sat on the couch right next to his mom. &nbsp;&ldquo;त्यो सुदर्शन हेर त, त्यो जन्मिदा तँ २ वर्षा को थिस, तेस्ले नि पोहोर अषार मा बिहा गरेछ.&rdquo; Yeah mom, I wish I was into girls with unibrows, good for Sudarshan! &ldquo;राकेश पनि तँ भन्दा ४ महिना ले जेठो त हो नि, तेस्ले नि छोरो च्यापेको फोटो फेसबुक मा राखिसक्यो. हैन बाबु, बिहे भनेको उमेर छदै गर्नपर्छ, हाम्रो पनि नाति नातिना खेलाउने इछ्या छ&quot; Ok first, why do I have to find a girl to pop out a baby so that you can fulfill your maternal desires? Second, and more importantly, why do you even have a facebook? Prasanna thought hard, but couldn&rsquo;t come up with a reply that would strike the right balance between indifference and courtesy. &ldquo;ए बाबा, आफ्नो दिदि को नाति ले आगुम एस. एल. सी. दिने भैसक्यो, आफ्नो छोरो भने बिहा को कुरो गर्यो कि ठुस्किन्छ बा &rdquo; His mom proceeded to fold his laundry as her tone shifted from despondent to a tad affronting. &ldquo;हैन माँ, पढाई सकुम न पहिले, अहिले पढ़िरको बेला मा बिहा गरेर नि कहाँ राख्ने मैले?&rdquo; &ldquo;पढाई किन सक्नु पर्यो तलाई? बुवा को यत्रो सम्पति छ, तेरै त हो नि बाबु<span style="f