Bibas Limbu
Astro zipped his worn schoolbag carefully, making sure the torn strap did not give way again. The bag held only a few books, but even those had been used by someone else before him. Downstairs, his father tightened the tools in his rusted toolbox, preparing for another day of plumbing repairs—sometimes pipes, sometimes drains, sometimes whatever work came his way. His mother tied her shawl, ready to leave for the houses where she worked as a maid. Outside, on the porch, his grandfather sat quietly, soaking in the pale warmth of the early winter sun as it crept over their modest home.
That afternoon, on his way back from school, Astro noticed a brown wallet lying near the bus stop. He picked it up cautiously and opened it. Inside were thick wads of cash. His heart skipped. That money could pay bills, fix the leaking roof, maybe even buy his grandfather medicine. For a moment, he stood frozen, caught between need and choice.
Then his eyes fell on an identity card tucked inside the wallet.
The moment he read the name and address, his doubts faded. He closed the wallet carefully and slipped it into his bag.
At home that evening, he told his parents about his walk back from school.
“Amma,” he said softly, placing the wallet on the table, “I found this near the bus stop. There’s a lot of money inside.”
His mother looked at him, startled. “Astro… we could use that money,” she said, then paused. “But it isn’t ours.”
His father nodded slowly. “Doing the right thing is hardest when life is unfair,” he said. “You’ve already chosen well, son.”
They showed him how to reach the address written on the card. The next morning, Astro boarded a bus and got down at Dhapasi.
Unsure of where to go, he approached a small shop by the roadside. “Excuse me, dai,” he asked politely, “do you know Prem Lama from Dhapasi Height?”
The shopkeeper studied the address and smiled. “Ah, yes. That big house up the road,” he said, pointing ahead. “You can’t miss it.”
Astro’s eyes widened when he reached the place. A large mansion stood before him, surrounded by high walls and a guarded gate. He hesitated, then explained everything to the guard, who listened carefully before letting him inside.
Moments later, a middle-aged man appeared at the door. As Astro told his story, the man’s expression softened. He listened in silence, then took the wallet from Astro’s hands.
“You did what many wouldn’t,” Prem Lama said quietly. “Thank you.”
Moved by the boy’s honesty, he offered to help Astro’s family, who had been struggling for years. He arranged steady jobs for Astro’s parents at his factory and ensured medical care for his grandfather.
Astro returned home that day without the wallet—but with something far more valuable: the knowledge that honesty, even in hardship, could open doors no money ever could.
