By the time our meeting with the aguwas broke up, the sun had set. It was time for the young men to take control of our time in the village. Dipek and I were led into a dark room inside Balkrishna’s house with six local twenty some-things. Dipek and the boys started to joke around, Balkrishna’s wife brought out plates of chili chicken and Balkrishna produced a container meant to hold petroleum. Inside was not gas, but rather ‘local’ which is essentially moonshine that tastes like cheap and strong sake. Once everyone had a full cup we toasted to good friends and started to drink.

At first the boys told stories about their village, Dipek described his time in Kathmandu, and I fielded questions about my life. An early highlight of the evening for the guys was my being awkward at eating with my hands. One of the boys saw me eating my chicken with two hands instead of one and he could not stifle a laugh, he immediately whispered in the ear of his neighbor. Soon the whole room was watching and waiting for me to employ my off hand while eating. Once I did a wave of laughter spread then led into a discussion about knifes and spoons, in case you are wondering they were declared absolutely unnecessary.

When the chicken was finished the food continued coming. The main course was of course daal bhaat. This ubiquitous meal of rice and a sort of curried lentil soup is also eaten with the hands by most Nepalis. While eating chicken with my hands is nothing new, I still find daal bhaat difficult to eat without a spoon. I struggle to get much into my mouth. After watching me struggle for a while Balkrishna took it upon himself to instruct me on the proper eating technique. You mix the rice with the lentils, work it into rounded shapes, and then use your thumb to sort of push it into your mouth, only using one hand of course. I eventually got the hang of it and managed to finish within a few minutes of the pack.

After finishing eating, we washed our hands with a pitcher of water brought in by Balkrishna’s mother. With dinner out of the way, the drinking started in earnest. The youngest boy was dispatched to go buy cigarettes and all of the men started telling jokes. As we drank more and voices were loosened by the alcohol it was time to sing. Dipek started by singing an Indian dirge, the boys followed with a local song and I struggled through remembering the words to ‘Amazing Grace’ when Dipek’s requested it. As the night went on the small, dark room was slowly filled to the brim with singing, laughing and dancing.

By this point in the night it had become crystal clear that we were not headed home that evening. Dipek had been drinking, the sun had set, and the roads back were confusing and dangerous. So the boys pulled out two beds into the courtyard in front of the house and covered them with a large mosquito net. Before sleeping though I had promised everyone that I would pull out my laptop to play western songs and show them pictures of the world. We went on a short world tour with my laptop while they demanded either slow songs or fast songs. The music drew a crowd and before I knew it there were 20 people jostling for a position over one of my shoulders. Spectators would call out names of cities and countries and if I had pictures I would show them. Pictures of the bright lights of Tokyo and the skyscrapers of Singapore were the biggest hits. Once my laptop’s batteries died the crowd dispersed into the night leaving Dipek and I to go to bed.

The night was warm with an occasional breeze. With no electricity in the village, the only light came from the moon and the stars. A cloudless sky left no star hidden, the view was stunning. As we lay out in the night, looking up at the stars Dipek could not resist the environment and initiated a deep discussion of religion that fit into the lofty views of the heavens.

Dipek talked himself to sleep, and soon I was left alone with the night watching the slow steady paths of the satellites and quick bursts of light from shooting stars. I was glad to have the brilliant night sky above me, because under me sitting beneath the bed was the family dog. Apparently at night in Kali Nagar the dogs hold their meetings and I only caught pockets of sleep between the barks and howls echoing throughout the village. We made a quick escape in the morning after breakfast with Balkrishna and Nayan. I was told I could come and stay with them again anytime, and I truly hope I will find an opportunity to do exactly that.