In the heart of the Kathmandu Valley, Nepal—a city famous for its crowded streets, endless traffic jams, pollution, and narrow, confusing alleys—it was just another typical morning. Despite the chaos, Kathmandu was deeply rooted in religion and tradition, and as the capital, it was the most developed city in Nepal.
Bibek Kandel, a 23-year-old man with a messy taper-fade and half-closed eyes, woke up to his shrill mobile alarm. He lazily switched it off and sat up in his small, dusty room—clothes strewn everywhere, a single gas stove against one wall, a few plates piled up, and a water jar in the corner. Grabbing a bottle, he took a long drink of water before stepping outside.
The building housed three other rooms sharing one bathroom. Bibek went in, peed, brushed his teeth, washed his face, and emerged just as a girl walked out of another room. She glanced at him; he noticed but didn't react. She said nothing.
Back in his room, he wiped his face with a towel and thought,
"I'm just a normal guy living in Kathmandu. I try to study and earn money. Life's hard and boring—one room, a shared bathroom, noise, no privacy, no money… miserable. But it's all I can afford. I just wish something interesting would happen in my life."
He checked his cracked-screen phone—7:04 AM—and tossed it on the bed.
"I need to get ready."
He cleaned his room, washed the utensils, then lit the stove. In one pressure cooker he put rice; in the other, lentils (dal).
"Just rice and dal. No vegetables today, but it'll work."
By 8:53 AM, he was dressed in pants and a T-shirt.
"Ugh, I'm already late. Why does food take so long to cook?"
He ate quickly, locked his door, and hurried toward the main road to catch a bus. Inside, people were standing shoulder to shoulder.
"Of course I have to stand too."
The bus crawled through traffic. Bibek's face went pale as he thought,"Why does it happen to me .". Finally, he reached his stop, paid the fare, and rushed into work.
"No parents, no money, no support. I was abandoned as a child and raised in an orphanage. My life's a living hell. I work every day, but I still feel completely alone. Nobody would even come to my funeral if I died today. I'm working hard not because I love this job… but because I have to."
He greeted a customer.
"Sir, what would you like to order?"
Bibek worked as a waiter in a local restaurant.
"I wanted to study engineering, but money didn't allow it—and I sucked at studying. So here I am."
The customer replied, "One plate of chicken momo."
Bibek called out to the kitchen, "One plate chicken momo, Table No. 14."
By 2 PM, it was break time. Bibek and a few colleagues crowded into the break room. A plate of chicken momo sat in front of him. Ram Sapkota—always eager to be friendly—leaned over.
"Don't want it? Give it to me."
Bibek frowned.
"I'd rather throw it away than give it to you."
Ram shrugged and took a seat. Bibek thought:
"I don't need friends. But yeah, the best part of this job is the free food."
He ate in silence. At 5:06 PM, his shift ended.
"Today was a bit busy. I think I'll walk home. It's been a while—maybe I'll enjoy the walking."
He strolled through the packed streets, crossed the bridge over the Bagmati River, and grimaced at the smell of garbage floating in the water.
"When will this ever get cleaned? What do tourists think?"
Then he witnessed a horrible accident: a man struck by a bus, blood everywhere. A crowd gathered, whispering:
"How scary…"
"Whose fault was it?"
"Call the police!"
Bibek watched, disturbed.
"That man won't survive… I feel bad for him. I hope he goes to heaven. I don't want to end up like that in my coming future."
The sun dipped low. Though the view wasn't perfect, he still liked it. He kept walking toward a zebra crossing, checked his phone—6:05 PM—and slipped it into his pocket. The pedestrian light's countdown showed 11 seconds left. Suddenly, someone shoved him.
He tumbled onto the road. A truck roared toward him. Frozen with terror, he thought:
"Is this it? Am I going to die? I can't move… the truck's too fast. It'll hit me… it'll hurt like hell."
Nine seconds left.
Meanwhile, a little back at the crossing, another young man gasped:
"Wait… what just happened? I was the one supposed to be hit… but I'm here. What is this?"
A boy beside him asked, "Hey, Santosh, what are you thinking?"
"Santosh? Who's Santosh? I'm Bibek… what's going on? Who is this guy?"
A sharp pain struck his head.
"Hey, are you okay? Why are you holding your head?" the boy said.
His head throbbed. Strange memories flooded in—people, names, places he didn't know.
"This guy… Ram Poudel… how do I know that? These thoughts… are these memories? What's happening to me?"
The pain eased. Still dazed, he bolted toward the crossing; the boy followed him. The crowd had grown. People panicked and pointed. He pushed to the front—and his own body lay on the road, mangled and bleeding. No chance of survival.
"That's… that's my body. That's me… but I'm standing here? In someone else's body? With memories I don't recognize? What is this?!"
He blacked out.
He was snapped out by Ram Poudel was who was shaking him.
"Santosh, are you not feeling well?Then he looked at the dead body. This is brutal… I hope his family can handle it."
Bibek—now in Santosh body—thought:
"This is my friend from childhood… but why do I know him? No one would ever come see my body. No friends, no trust."
Ram grabbed his hand and led him away from the accident.
"Let's go back to our room. We shouldn't stay here."
(Note:Bibek is controlling Santosh body)
Walking away, Santosh thought:
"This body's name is Santosh. He also has no parents, looks my age, and like me, doesn't know his true age—both abandoned. The only difference is he has friends, and I don't. But how did I swap souls? How do I have his memories and mine? Where did his soul go? Why did this happen?"
His head pounded again and he fell to his knees. Ram panicked:
"What happened? Let's see a doctor—I don't think you're okay."
At the hospital, the doctor checked him.
"Just a simple headache. Nothing to worry about—take the medicine on time that I have provided you then it will be all fine in just a few days."
Back home—in a larger room with a kitchen, and a toilet—Ram urged him to sleep. Santosh lay down, swallowed his medicine, and thought:
"This body is eerily similar to mine, except he was an engineering topper on scholarship. But why am I so calm? I feel fine here… if I'd known him, we could've been best friends."
Soon, he slept deeply.
The next day, he woke at 11 PM, looked at the phone—unbroken and decent.
"Whose phone is this? Oh… this is Santosh phone."
Ram entered.
"You slept well? Any headache?"
Santosh"No, I'm fine."
Ram"You slept a lot—are you hungry?"
Santosh"Yeah, who wouldn't be?"
"Don't be rude. I made rice, dal, fried potato, and gundruk jhol(I think it is called soup and it is a popular local dish in Nepal)."
While they ate, Ram said:
"You missed college today. Catch up to your studies so you wouldn't suffer."
Santosh nodded.
"Oh, yes, yes."
Ram"Well,You're good at studying—you'll manage."
Santosh thought:
"In my old body, I was nervous around people. Here, I feel no nerves."
After chores, Ram went to work; Santosh stayed home.
"This guy was intelligent—invested in the stock market and had various ways to earn money. That'll help me more than him,I really need to thank him for this."
Days passed. Santosh realized his new self had a lot of changes:sharper mind, less lazy, higher IQ, automatic recall of math formulas, a changing personality.
One day on the bus, he smiled:
"This life's way more interesting than my old one. I'm enjoying it—who cares about my fucking past life?"
Suddenly, in a footpath a foot appeared facing towards the bus in which Santosh was sitting . Then , Suddenly,It exploded.
Scene shifted in a Far away hilly house, a man was bathing there the he looked around and froze in shock—traumatized beyond belief as his face becomes pale,eyes widened,mouth opened.
To be continued...