This past weekend, I stood behind a table stacked with copies of A Fight for a Cup of Chai, under the banner of the LA Times Festival of Books. After all the solitary nights of writing, revising, and reliving difficult truths, I had a moment of stillness and gratitude. This book, this journey, was now something I could hold in my hands, and share with the world.
People stopped by. Some paused, reading the title aloud. Some smiled and asked questions. A few held the book like it already meant something to them, even before the first page. And several asked, “Is this your story?”
Yes, I’d say. It is.
This wasn’t just a book signing. It was a moment of affirmation.
In the weeks leading up to the festival, I found myself overwhelmed by marketing noise, unsolicited pitches, and the weight of doing it all—writer, agent, promoter. I started to question whether this story would really find the people it was meant for.
But then the festival happened. And it reminded me why I wrote this memoir in the first place.
 |  |  |
 |  |  |
- This book is for every worker who never had a chance to speak.
- This story is rooted in struggle, dignity, and hope.
- And this weekend was a small but powerful reminder that authentic connection still exists, even in a crowded, noisy space.
Standing there in front of curious readers taught me that presence is sometimes louder than promotion. Being visible, vulnerable even, wasn’t easy, but it was powerful. I learned that not every success shows up as a number. Sometimes, it looks like a stranger holding your story with care.
This year marked the 30th anniversary of the LA Times Festival of Books, held on April 26–27, 2025, at the University of Southern California. With more than 550 authors and speakers—including literary and cultural figures like Chelsea Handler, Amanda Gorman, Stacey Abrams, and Jon M. Chu—the festival was a vibrant celebration of storytelling in all its forms.
To share space among such voices was humbling. But it also reaffirmed that stories like A Fight for a Cup of Chai, rooted in labor, dignity, and quiet resistance, deserve to stand beside them.
It reminded me: every voice matters. Even one born in a shoe factory in Kathmandu.
Until next time,
Sanman Thapa
Curiosity is the seed of knowledge! 
Leave a comment