About Little Birds

I grew up in Bardibas, a small town in Mahottari. The East-West Highway runs right through it, and as a child I noticed that most of the big dreams seemed to travel along it too, away from home, towards somewhere else.

My school did the best it could. The teachers cared, but there were too few books, too little time, and no real way to know how a child was doing until the exam results arrived. When I wanted more, everyone gave me the same answer: you have to leave. So I did. I went abroad to study, carrying one suitcase, my family's hopes and a promise that it would all be worth it.

It is hard to explain what leaving costs. It is Dashain on a video call, watching your family put on tika through a phone screen. It is Tihar lights you only see in photos. It is your mother asking whether you have eaten, at an hour when she should be asleep. And I was never the only one. Almost everyone I grew up with has a brother, a sister or a friend living the same story in another country.

Why should a child have to leave Nepal to get a good education?

Far from home, I kept asking one simple question: why should a child have to leave Nepal to get a good education? Talent is not the problem. Our children are as bright as any in the world. What our schools are missing are the tools: a clear picture of every student, time for teachers to teach instead of filling registers, and parents who know how their child is doing before it is too late.

Little Birds is my answer. I built it for schools like the one I went to, in towns like Bardibas, so that teachers can spend their time on children, and every child is seen, supported and helped to grow. I built it hoping that one day fewer families will have to celebrate Dashain apart, because the opportunity their children needed was waiting for them right at home.