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A Memory from a Kathmandu Factory

Today, while going through an old album, I found a photograph that stopped me in my tracks. It was taken on the day I left the shoe factory in Kathmandu. My brothers in labor stood close, their arms around my shoulders, their faces carrying exhaustion, pride, and a silent promise of solidarity.

Author’s Note (2025): I first wrote this piece soon after publishing my debut memoir, but the lessons remain just as relevant today. Even now, my inbox fills with waves of promotional emails and lofty promises. The reflections here continue to guide me—and I hope they might help other writers, too.

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When I first set out to write A Fight for a Cup of Chai, I thought the hardest part would be telling the story—reliving the pain, shaping the truth, and...

By Sanman Thapa

I wasn’t just Aiden’s dad — for much of his childhood, I was his only playmate. As a stay-at-home father, I played every role: goalie, chess rival, LEGO architect, and pirate ship opponent armed with wooden swords and eye patches. We had no cousins down the block or siblings squabbling over toys. There was just me. And in that closeness — beautiful and intense — I became not just a parent, but a kind of surrogate sibling.

That closeness was a gift, but it also came with...

Author’s Note

When I published my debut memoir A Fight for a Cup of Chai, I knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy—but I didn’t expect what came next. Within days of celebrating one of the most meaningful achievements of my life, I was flooded with messages that weren’t truly about my book. They were about buying back the spotlight I had already earned.

This piece isn’t just about calling out scams. It’s about reclaiming power. It’s about exposing a pattern that preys on the very vulnerability...

A Fight for a Cup of Chai: A Journey Through Labor, Loss, and Hope

By Sanman Thapa | March, 29, 2025 | 11:00 am

Have you ever felt a quiet tug—that ticking urge to share your story with the world—only to be silenced by a voice that says, Who would care?

You’re not alone. I was one of those people, too.

Reaching middle age brought with it a wave of self-reflection and, with it, a deep desire to finally own my story. I’ve always loved to write. While digging through the attic one day, I stumbled...