Binod opens his eyes to cool gray light filtering in through the curtains. The space beside him in the bed is empty. It’s been empty a lot lately when he wakes up. He clutches his pillow and hugs it as the comforting arms of sleep slip away. The oblivion of unremembered dreams is the only peace he’s known the last two weeks. He supposes he should get up, get around and start the day, except he’s trapped in this Sunni-less world and he doesn’t know how to live in this new normal. Already the sweet sound of his daughter’s voice is like a distant murmur in his ear, fading more and more every day. It horrifies him to think he might forget her voice, never hear her call him Bubā again.
How has everything gone from the perfect life he had six weeks ago to a world of sullen shadows creeping over
