This post discusses suicide.
On February 3rd we lost Swostika Adhikari, a host family cousin, to suicide. She was 16 years old.
***
"How is your pen pal program going?"
A high school student sat on a stool and looked at me with curiosity from her porch. The book she had been studying balanced placidly on her knees. I had come to her house to update her grandfather about a beekeeping project he was interested in.
It had been some time since I visited her school to announce a pen pal exchange I was setting up with a friend of mine in the United States. I explained that we had made our selection of Nepali pen pal participants and that I had been planning to get the students together for a meeting when Swostika died.
"It wasn't a good time," I said. "So I'll probably come back to school in a week or so." I wondered what the mood was like at school now. What the students were going through. What they were thinking. Were they talking about it?
I hesitated.
"How are the students feeling?" I asked.
The girl's face fell. I watched her struggle to find the right words.
"Too much sad," she said, finally, in English.
I nodded. We were quiet. Sitting together with the weight. I wanted to offer something more to support her -- something, anything. But then a passing neighbor interrupted us and swept the moment away.
***
A water tank in front of Swostika's house painted with her name in bold umber.