What inspired you to write A Fight for a Cup of Chai, and how much of your personal story is woven into its pages?
The book was born out of lived experience. I worked in Kathmandu’s garment and shoe factories in the 1990s, where long hours, unsafe conditions, and poverty shaped every decision we made. When my fellow workers and I organized for something as simple as a cup of tea, it became symbolic of something much larger: dignity, fairness, and humanity. The book is almost entirely my story, but it also reflects the collective voice of countless workers who remain unheard.
Your work as a school counselor focuses on social-emotional growth — how has that influenced your storytelling style and the themes you choose to explore?
As a counselor, I listen to stories every day — stories of resilience, struggle, and hope. That practice of deep listening informs my writing. I don’t write to sensationalize suffering, but to honor the emotional truths within it. My books often explore themes of survival, identity, and social justice because I see those same struggles mirrored in my students’ lives.
What does the title A Fight for a Cup of Chai symbolize for you and your readers?
For me, chai represents more than a drink. It represents acknowledgment. When workers demanded chai, they were really demanding to be seen as human beings, worthy of rest, respect, and basic comfort. For readers, the title becomes an entry point into understanding how small acts of defiance can carry enormous meaning.
As a bilingual author, how do language and cultural nuance shape your writing process?
My mind runs in a conjunction of English as well as my native language Nepali. That duality is both a challenge and a gift. Some words don’t translate neatly, so I rely on imagery and rhythm to carry meaning across languages. I also try to preserve cultural nuance whether it’s how chai is poured, or how a village elder might speak because those details root the narrative in authenticity.
You’re deeply committed to cultural inclusivity — how do you ensure your stories honor the communities you represent?
I write from a place of lived truth and humility. I consult family, friends, and community members to check my memory against theirs. And I avoid generalizations; every person and community deserves to be represented with complexity, not as a stereotype.
Many educators dream of writing a book but never do. What gave you the courage to take that leap?
Two things: memory and mortality. I didn’t want my story, or the story of my coworkers, to vanish into silence. Writing was my way of honoring their struggle. Courage came not from believing I was ready, but from realizing the story deserved to exist regardless of my fears.
In your blog, you write candidly about parenting and personal growth. How does blogging differ from writing a full-length book for you?
Blogging feels like conversation — immediate, personal, and unfiltered. A book, on the other hand, requires weaving those moments into a larger arc. The blog is where I test ideas and connect with readers in real time, while the book is where I create something lasting.
How do your students inspire or influence your stories?
My students remind me daily of resilience and possibility. Many of them carry burdens far heavier than their age suggests. Their courage to keep moving forward inspires me to tell stories of persistence, not just pain.
What’s been the biggest lesson you’ve learned from your own journey of perseverance and advocacy?
That progress is slow but never wasted. A fight that feels small today — like for a cup of chai — can ripple outward in ways we don’t immediately see. Every act of courage, however modest, matters.
What do you hope readers — especially those from underrepresented backgrounds — take away from your debut work?
I hope they feel seen. I hope they know their struggles are valid, and that their stories deserve to be told. For others, I hope the book sparks empathy and awareness, because change begins with understanding.
How do you balance your roles as an educator, counselor, writer, and blogger?
Balance is an illusion most days, but I remind myself that these roles feed each other. My work with students gives me stories and insights. Writing gives me clarity. Counseling grounds me in empathy. It’s less about balance and more about integration.
What challenges did you face in getting your first book published, and how did you overcome them?
As an immigrant writer, I had no roadmap. Publishing felt like a maze of gatekeepers. I chose self-publishing because I didn’t want to wait for permission to share my story. It was difficult — learning editing, design, and marketing — but it was also empowering to take ownership of the process.
What does authentic representation in literature mean to you, and where do you think the industry still falls short?
Authentic representation means telling stories that aren’t filtered through stereotypes or exoticism. Too often, publishing only highlights certain kinds of immigrant or marginalized voices — ones that feel “marketable” to Western audiences. We need more space for stories that are messy, layered, and unapologetically true.
What’s next for you — can readers expect more books, or new directions in your writing and advocacy?
Yes! I’m currently working on my second memoir, From Rice Paddy to Highrises, which explores my life in the U.S. — from cultural adaptation to fatherhood and the search for identity. I also continue to blog and advocate for worker rights and educational equity.
Finally, could you share your experience using AllAuthor’s services and tools, and what it’s been like being part of this supportive community?
AllAuthor has been a generous partner. The tools are practical and effective, but what I value most is the sense of community. As an independent author, promotion can feel isolating. AllAuthor makes it collaborative, connecting me with readers and other writers in meaningful ways.
Thank you for featuring my journey and for helping my book reach hearts across the world. I hope this interview, alongside the photograph I’ve shared, offers readers a more personal connection to my work.
