Nepal, Oct. 27 -- The old man let out a long sigh, got up from the veranda, and walked toward the edge of the porch, from where he could see a bazaar named Besithumka. That was where his two brothers lived with their respective families. The village where the old man lived exuded an aura of haunted hinterlands, with every family locking their houses and moving to the bazaar. Now, the old man saw only his wife-a short, greying woman waiting for the inevitable.

At night, the old man was accustomed to hearing three different sounds-the hooting of wolves, the wheezing of his frail wife, and his own long, painful sighs. A jeep or two would ply the road below the house when the weather was favourable in the afternoons. The old man no longer co...