Today is Palisha’s monthly visit to her parents in Lalitpur, and she’s anxious as she drives along the F103 highway that skirts the city’s southwest rim. Even though she’s a woman in her mid-forties, educated and on her own, she’s still a widow in her father’s eyes, and widows should be home with their parents and out of sight. And he doesn’t let her forget that. She wonders if she’ll ever really be seen in his eyes. Even after all this time, he still can’t forgive her for wanting more in life than just being a specter, drifting from one room to another in the sprawling estate in the upper-caste neighborhood of Kathmandu.
She turns off the highway onto a dusty road with no name that wriggles through the humble neighborhoods huddling around the upscale section of town. It’s a Saturday, so
