Although India is just across the border from Nepal, to young girls like Radhika

it is an exotic, far off country – another planet, really. It was a land that certainly inhabited Radhika’s dreams. In her imagination, India was peopled with

beautiful Bollywood heroines and handsome heroes, living in some of the most

stunning scenery on earth, the landscapes that Radhika had stared at so adoringly

on film posters. It never occured to the young girl that India might be similar to

Nepal in many ways, that it might have a darker side to the one represented on

celluloid, that it might suffer from some of the same social and economic

problems as her native Nepal. But even if it had, would it have mattered? After

all, Radhika Phuyal was going to India. Who would believe it?

Thus, as she clambered into an old Fiat taxi beside her new employers and

their children at 7 a.m. one cold but sunny winter’s morning, Radhika couldn’t

stop smiling. They got out at Naya Bus Park in Balaju, the main hub for buses

making long journeys in and out of Kathmandu.

Radhika stared with growing wonder at the eclectic mix of locals and wide-

eyed tourists fighting their way through stifling diesel fumes to climb on and off

the crowded vehicles that were taking them to new horizons.

It was now almost two years since she had first left her small village to board

the bus to Kathmandu and that experience had been very different to her current

one. Then, she had been alone and afraid, fearful of just how she was going to

make a living in the big city. Now, here she was, aged just 16, and about to

embark on a much bigger journey, literally crossing new frontiers to India. She

could barely contain her excitement.

Radhika watched as a man walked towards them, joining their small party.

Introduced to her as a friend of her new employers, Murari Pariyar was in his

mid-20s, around the same age as the sons of her employers. A short, lean man

with long hair, he exchanged pleasantries with Radhika’s employers. Soon after,

the group, including Pariyar, boarded the bus. It seemed that Pariyar was coming

with them. Once onboard the crowded, 30-seater vehicle Radhika absorbed

every sight, every smell, every noise, cherishing every moment – even the

discomfort of the bus was a pleasure.

She had a lot to take in. It was to be a gruelling 12 hours before the dated

vehicle reached its destination of Birganj, in the Terai region of southern Nepal,

which borders with India, but to Radhika it went by in a flash.

Birganj is a pleasant border town in southern Nepal, it lies 190km (118 miles)

west of Kathmandu and just 2km (1.2 miles) north of the border of the Indian

state of Bihar. Known as the gateway to Nepal, it has a population of just over

112,000 people, and its cigarette manufacturing, fish breeding and sugar industries make the town a major business centre in Nepal, one renowned for its

trade with India.

When they arrived there, Radhika gazed out of the bus’s scratched window,

craning her neck to take in the teeming townscape in front of her. She soaked up

its atmosphere of prosperity as confident businessmen strode along the town’s

dusty streets, while endless blue lorries shuttled cargo back and forth along the

smog-filled roads. She could barely contain her excitement at being transported

to this new place – the first of many, she hoped. In that moment, it felt to

Radhika like the world was her oyster, ripe for picking. Anything was now

possible, she thought to herself. Anything.

She followed the family as they disembarked from the bus and began to

prepare for the next phase of the journey, the comparatively short 45-minute

drive to the Indian border. Radhika’s excitement grew as the minutes ticked by

and the landscape whizzed past her.

Suddenly, amid the fleeting patchwork of paddy fields, her gaze fixed on what

appeared to be a train station and a sign declaring ‘BORDER’. They were almost

there. India lay just beyond that sign.

Radhika boarded an old blue train and settled into a comfortable seat next to

her female employer. The woman’s husband shared the same carriage, while

Pariyar and her sons sat in an adjoining section to the compartment.

Radhika looked around; she began to take in her surroundings. The carriage

interior was pale blue. The colour made Radhika feel cool and calm because it

somehow seemed to lower the temperature of the stuffy air inside. But it did

nothing to rid the carriage of the stale curry smell that clung to the velour

upholstery, worn down to the metal below in patches. She didn’t care though –

the journey on which she was about to embark was going to change her life. She

just knew.

In a state of euphoria, believing that whatever happened next, whatever life

threw at her, it would be worth it, Radhika knew that she was the luckiest girl in

the world. Life just didn’t get better than this.

‘I don’t remember who, but someone in the family offered me a mouth-

wateringly cold drink of Coke. My throat was parched and my lips were dry so I

devoured it greedily.

‘I remember thinking how good it felt to drink because it was so cool and

thirst-quenching.

‘After that, I drifted off to sleep and lost consciousness for a very long time.’