Shiva Prasad was heading towards the entrance of Bindhyabasini Temple when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. He turned his head back—intrigued. The man stared at him, and for a moment, Shiva Prasad couldn’t understand why a stranger had poked him. He did his best to recall the face of that man, yet he couldn’t make out who the man was. When the man removed his mask, Shiva recognised it was his old friend, Mohan. They shook their hands, giggling, being pleased with the encounter. Nothing about Mohan had changed; his wide smile, thin moustache, and bushy brows were still the same. It had been almost a decade since they last met.

Almost ten years ago, on a rainy day, Shiva had bumped into Mohan in a small tea shop. They had talked of the school days and future plans over tea and a plate of Sekuwa. Mohan had said he had just arrived in Nepal a few days ago. On asking Mohan where he had been, he had said Dubai in a flaunty tone. Also, he had said he would be off to the same venue in two weeks.

“What’s here in Nepal”? he had said, blowing out the smoke up in the air.

Shiva Prasad had also confessed about his life, how he taught all day long to collect the meagre cash by the end of every month. Mohan had suggested Shiva Prasad he fly to a foreign country and stay there until he earns enough money to invest back home. Shiva Prasad had averted the idea straight away. He was determined to do something in his own country, even if it earne him a little money.

Now that they’d met after so many years, they decided to have breakfast together in a restaurant. They slipped into a restaurant just below the entrance of the temple. Mohan, as always, adhering to Masala Dosa, his favourite food. Shiva Prasad ordered a plain naan and rajma curry. Shiva Prasad barely visited restaurants because he preferred to eat home-cooked food than the dishes full of spice they offered in restaurants. Plus, he hated spending money unnecessarily. Soon, the waiter arrived with two glasses of water, and Mohan asked him to bring a cigarette. As Mohan placed the cigarette between his lips, Shiva Prasad took notice of the large gold rings around Mohan’s fingers. The last time they met, Mohan owned no such ornaments.

Meanwhile, even after teaching in a government school for over fifteen years, Shiva Prasad didn’t have any gold in his possession. All the money he earned was spent mostly on the education of the children. He believed quality education was the need of the hour, and without it, one couldn’t do well in this competitive world. Rohan, his son, had just completed his schooling and was preparing for the entrance exam of engineering. Saru was just upgraded to grade nine this year.

Shiva Prasad wondered how Mohan had managed to earn a myriad of wealth. For a moment, Shiva Prasad cursed himself for not having gone to foreign countries when Mohan had suggested him. As they chatted more, Shiva Prasad discovered that Mohan now owned two houses in New Road. Also, Mohan had bought a new car just a few months ago.

Shiva Prasad felt humiliated to sit in front of Mohan, who possessed the property that Shiva Prasad couldn’t imagine. Mohan used to be below average in school, and whenever he was kicked out of the class for not doing homework, Shiva Prasad would feel sad for him. He would worry about Mohan’s future. Now, as they ate together, Shiva Prasad wondered if Mohan felt pity about his friend’s financial status.

It was as if fate had spun and success had navigated Mohan. Shiva Prasad was happy to see his friend climb the ladder of success, but the feeling of inferiority consumed him. He rated himself way below Mohan, and it was true that Shiva Prasad would never accomplish what Mohan had. Once they finished the meal, they got up to leave. Shiva Prasad insisted on paying the bill, but Mohan quickly took out the purse from his pocket. While he was pulling out a note from his wallet, a small card fell on the floor, close to where Shiva Prasad stood.

“It must be my business card,” Mohan said, looking down to the floor.

Shiva Prasad bent down to gather the card, and while reaching for it, he noticed Mohan’s shiny leather shoes. Then he compared it with his old slippers that had torn out on the edges. He hated comparing the footwear, but it reflected the dissimilarity between the two friends. He felt low on himself, and he couldn’t dismiss this thought no matter how much he tried.

Now they were out, standing on the street. The sun was getting intense, and Shiva Prasad had to reach home by nine am. Showing the urgency, Shiva Prasad bid goodbye to Mohan. Mohan, too, advanced towards his house.

While walking along the narrow lane of Nadipur, Shiva couldn’t stop thinking of Mohan and his wealth. Had he gone to any foreign country, having not taught in a government school, he could have acquired what Mohan has. Now, he was nowhere near Mohan. He hated to admit it, but he was growing envious. He felt a pang of guilt, and he had no idea how long it would last. He was starting to regret coming across Mohan.

As he reached home, Sima was preparing the meal. Saru silently watched her mother cook.

“Where were you today?” Sima asked him inquisitively.

He ignored her question and went straight away to Rohan’s room. He was leafing through the pages of a bulky book. Once Rohan, after completing his high school, had said he would like to pursue his further studies in Australia. Shiva Prasad had scolded him, saying only the fools go to foreign countries.

But that morning, he asked his son softly, “Do you want to go to Australia? I’ll manage the loan if you really want to go.” Rohan was taken aback by the sudden change in his father’s mentality.

“Yes, but what about the money?”

“Don’t worry, my son,” Shiva Prasad said and walked out of the room.

Gautam is a writer from Pokhara.