Shyambahadur would describe himself as a man of modest means. His family had toiled with difficulty throughout their entire lives; his dad had some ropanis of land in Patan, Jawalakhel, Bhaisepati, and Baluwatar, and he had spent all his life holding the land, waiting for the real estate market to boom, and sell bits and pieces of it to rightful immigrants of the city. Under such difficult circumstances, Shyambahadur was raised in the simple four-storied house in Sanepa.
Shyambahadur’s parents had always desired their child to receive the best of education. It was to fulfill that very parental aspiration that he had gone abroad to Switzerland for his high school. His English training in Kathmandu had helped him become a successful student there. He then continued his academic pursuit at Columbia, which was made possible by his dad selling off a tiny chunk of his Bhaisepati’s plot.
Thankfully, even in the harsh American work environment, Shyambahadur did not have to do much to pay his rent. The plots of lands kept getting smaller in Kathmandu, albeit his dad had reinvested some of the money to buy more land near the to-be-constructed Bhairahawa airport. “How hard my dad works,” Shyam had always been inspired by his guardian.
When Shyambahadur came back to Nepal, he did not have to look for a job like Rambahadur. The day he had returned back to Nepal after getting his degree and then travelling to Europe and Africa to celebrate for a few months, his dad had declared, “my son will look after our mediocre family business.” Shyambahadur was not surprised by this announcement for he had always expected it.
He had since forever wanted to give a message to all the Rambahadurs in the world, “Don’t be a Rambahadur. Be a Shyambahadur.” And he did. That too, in national media. He had never felt more successful until that moment.
Nowadays, Shyambahudur spends his time working as hard as his dad did – sipping French wine and running around the town mending his 27 antique motorbikes.