Author: S. Thapa
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Happy Mother’s Day
by Sanman Thapa | 5-10-2026 There is something strange about old photographs. At first, you see faces. Then, years later, you begin seeing burdens. This picture was taken sometime around 1988. Five boys standing beside our mother in a field somewhere in rural Nepal. At the time, it probably felt like an ordinary afternoon. Someone…
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From the Window Is Now in the World
Today I held From the Window: The City of What-Ifs in my hands for the first time. There is always a strange silence after a book arrives. For months, sometimes years, the work lives on screens, in drafts, in late-night revisions and quiet doubts. Then suddenly it exists as an object. Paper. Weight. A spine…
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I Love You Too
I was sitting alone on a Sunday evening watching the Super Bowl. I know very little about football. I watch it once a year, just enough to follow conversations the next day at work. It is one of those American rituals that feels important even when you do not fully belong to it. The game…
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History Repeats, But This Time She Leads
From Pamphlets to TikTok: Nepal’s Movements Across Generations By Sanman Thapa | 9/15/2025 —***— Demonstrators gathered outside Nepal’s Parliament in Kathmandu on Monday. One organizer said events this week escalated out of their control. Prabin Ranabhat/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images I originally wrote this piece as an op-ed right after September 12, when The Guardian…
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A Photograph I Found in an Old Album
While looking through an old album, I found a photograph of my factory brothers in Kathmandu — a reminder that Labor Day is not just about rest, but about dignity, memory, and the unseen hands that shape our world.
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Labor, Loss, and Resilience: An Immigrant’s Journey You Haven’t Heard Before
We weren’t asking for higher wages or shorter hours. All we wanted was a small stove, some tea leaves, and a little sugar to make it through the night shift. But when dignity is denied in small ways, it chips away at your spirit. That’s when we realized—it was never just about tea. It was…
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PREY
It didn’t start with a scam. It started with hope. A hope that someone, somewhere, had read my book and believed in it. That all the years I poured into writing it had finally been seen. But what followed wasn’t real interest—it was a machine built to prey on authors like me. Emails, DMs, flattery…
Sanman Thapa 