The ground beneath me crackles as I leap forward to enjoy the warm dust emanating from the peanuts being roasted on a jasta pata (galvanized aluminum sheet used for roofing). I am amazed to see the amount of peanuts (badams) being roasted as it’s my first time witnessing a badam ko godam (storehouse of peanuts). Karma Lama looks at me with surprise. His clothes are dusty, just like the other members of his family. He has a beautiful smile but he whiffs of raksi (moonshine) when I bow to examine the mound of badams scattered in front of him. Beside him, his son, Hira is playing cards idly, enjoying the warmth gushing from a vent nearby.
Karma’s grandson cracks open a peanut and shares it with his little sister. And his bwari (daughter-in-law) is busy sifting through empty shells of peanuts. I remember my own lazy winter afternoons in the sun; how I puffed softly to blow away the thin red film covering the peanuts. Grandma used to sit beside me as she rubbed the badam between her palms to pass it to me, and I devoured them with a pinch of salt and savored every morsel. Winters on a terrace, under the warm sun are cherished memories and Lama family is the reason behind them. Their family has been migrating to Kathmandu every winter from Kavre to sell badam. “Bechne ho, fida bhayo bhane khane ho,” (I am going to sell and if I get any profit, I am going to take it) says Karma Lama gleefully.
