“Dai, will they put me in jail?” The girl, probably in her mid-20s, asked me after I showed her the gate that would open after a couple of hours for her flight to Kathmandu.
“Indian police here. Or Nepali police in Kathmandu.”
I looked at her. She was pretty; dressed in worn-out jeans. “Have you studied in college?” I asked her.
“No. I got off with a boy when I was in last year of my school; he turned out to be a drug-addict and I left him to go to Gulf.” She said, now more frank and honest with me. Earlier, when I asked her name and address in Nepal, she stared at me a couple of minutes before uttering a name and an address.