Nepal, Jan. 12 -- At 11 am sharp every morning, a voice resounds through our quiet Kupondole neighbourhood, disturbing all our neighbours from their daily chores. My grandmother-sitting on a wheelchair in the terrace, with her legs resting on a chair and a pair of sunglasses to protect her beautiful eyes from the winter sun, like the queen she's always been-is singing in her best Mala Sinha expression, "Na maana laaj estari, ki jhumcha jindagi mero, na aau saamu yestari, ki adcha dhukdhuki mero, na aau saamu yestari." The self-proclaimed nightingale demands an audience.

And although her voices echoes in the neighbourhood, her audience is limited to just five people-her nurse, two caretakers, beloved pet Cookie and me. "If 1950 was as mod...