Puspa, Your Tears Are Nepal’s Tears

Dear Puspa,

Words tremble as I address you, the pen quivers. Your pain is so deep that no language, no sentence can fully bear its weight. Yet I feel compelled to write this open letter, because your struggle is not only your personal story, it has become the collective grief of all Nepalis.

After that dark morning of October 7, 2023, your life was turned upside down. When your brother Bipin fell into the hands of Hamas, you could no longer live as an ordinary sister. Your life became a living testimony of tears, waiting, and courage.

Puspa, we all witnessed your journey of pain.

Knocking on every door in Israel, reaching the Prime Minister’s office with a plea full of anguish, folding your hands before President Herzog saying, “Please bring my brother back.” Speaking out to foreign diplomats, embassies, and human rights organizations about your sorrow. Standing before thousands at Tel Aviv’s Hostage Square, with tear-soaked eyes crying out, “Brother, where are you? I am searching for you.” That voice shook not only Israel but the entire world.

That was not merely the cry of one sister, it was the cry of pain resonating in the veins of every Nepali heart.

Puspa, in your tears lies not only your family’s pain, but the pain of every mother, every sister, every brother of Nepal. When we see you, we are reminded of the sacred, priceless bond between siblings.

Today in Nepal, sisters are celebrating Teej—breaking green bangles, decorating their hands with mehendi, dancing with joy. But for you, Teej has arrived as a festival of waiting and grief. Instead of green bangles, you have had to bear the black night of sorrow. Perhaps you did not fast for the goddess, but you have fasted with your tears, praying only for your brother’s freedom. That suffering pierces the heart and makes the soul weep.

For us Nepalis living abroad, festivals like Teej and Tihar often feel empty without the warmth of home. Yet your pain is infinitely greater than ours. We only lose the chance to celebrate, but you have lost the sight of your brother’s face for so many days. That pain cannot be described in words.

But dear Puspa, your tears are not only symbols of grief. They are signs of courage. The strength you have shown here in Israel, alongside your mother, is extraordinary. Your cries have risen above sorrow, becoming the voice of justice and humanity.

In this painful journey, you are not alone. The government of Israel has heard your voice with seriousness, alongside its own citizens. The Government of Nepal, the Nepali Embassy here, and the Nepali community in Israel have all continuously expressed solidarity and support. Their encouragement and assistance, no doubt, have given you further strength.

Love, family, and a sister’s plea are the greatest powers in this world. History has shown that such power, sooner or later, opens doors, shows the way, and even creates miracles. Our prayer is one and the same: one morning, your brother Bipin will return. On that day, your eyes will not hold tears of sorrow, but tears of joy. On that day, from Nepal to Israel, every Nepali heart will be filled with light.

Sister, you are not alone. Your tears are our prayers. Your courage is our lamp. Your cry is our voice. We all stand with you, in the desperate hope of seeing your brother and all the hostages freed soon.

With deepest respect and sorrow,

Khemraj Kattel
Israel