“Good mor-niiing siirrrrrrrrrrrrrrr” We all stood up and greeted Indra Sir as he entered the classroom through the rusted tin doors making a scratchy sound against the unleveled floor underneath. With a palpali dhaka topi on his head, he was in his complete attire including a west coat and a Bombay made bell-bottom pants. Indra Sir was quite popular for his nap and snoring sessions as the kids recited poems from the great poets as part of the literature class.

“Today we have a guest speaker” he started speaking as he loosen his favorite red galabandhi from around his neck and shared a grin over to a man in a camouflage uniform standing right beside the door. The man looked much bigger than the biggest person we’ve ever seen in all five villages around. The buttons on his shirt were barely keeping the masculine body of his from bursting out. “Class, please welcome Major. Gurung from the Royal Army of Britain” – Indra Sir seemed very proud and honored introducing him. “He used to be in one of the benches you guys are sitting on, about 15 years ago, I taught him literature too.” - Maj. Gurung’s smile validated every thing Sir had to say about him.

Soon the stage was turned over to Maj. Gurung. Maj. Gurung was part of the Gurkha regiment of the Royal Army and was in our village like every year for recruitment. I looked over to Purne with joy for our dreams were getting one step closer. This was the moment we had trained and longed for all these years. We would make laps on the barren field near the Pokhari danda and cut up bamboo to make our sit-up bench, while all the boys would go dancing at the Mela with the girls from the neighboring village. We sacrificed almost a year just in training for this day to come. We were both thrilled and nervous at the same time. We talked about it all the way back till Deurali. It was Deurali where Purne and I went our ways every day after school for all these years; he would take the road going downhill to Gurung Gaam while I hiked uphill to Bahun Gaam.

I remember going to school with Purne from as early as I can remember. We were known all over the village for being best friends. It was Purne who always backed me up when I got bullied by bigger kids in school. They used to call me names and steal my pencil all the time. I was the prime candidate for the bully for how skinny and feeble I looked back then. The long and pointy nose that I got from the Bahun caste was another item for bully and was made fun of all the time. There were times when I absolutely hated being born as a Bahun in contrary of being from the caste of the top hierarchy.

All of these had changed lately since I started training with Purne for the army. I had started showing the biceps and the chest like the ones Gurung people had naturally for they were the decedents of the warrior Mongols. We sat by Pokhari every evening after our training and measure up our biceps.

It was the friendship that I had with Purne that got me involved in trying out for the British Army. I was the first one not only of my family but all of Bahun Gaam to even consider joining the Army. As a Bahun we fall under the so called “priest” caste family with a long history of studying Sanskrit and geting involved in religious profession. It was a tabooed thing for a Bahun boy to even think of joining the army.