WHY EVERYONE IN NEPAL SAYS “COMING HAI!” BUT LEAVES AN HOUR LATER

 

In Nepal, there is a curious yet familiar phenomenon that plays out across homes, offices, and tea shops every single day. Someone gets up, picks their bag, and announces confidently, “Aaune ho!” or more commonly, “Coming hai!” And yet, for the next forty-five minutes or even an hour, they remain firmly rooted—chatting, scrolling, sipping tea, or starting entirely new conversations. For outsiders, or even the more time-conscious urban youth, this can seem baffling. But to most Nepalis, this temporal dissonance is so normalized that it hardly raises an eyebrow.

This phrase, “Coming hai!”, is less a declaration of departure and more a social signal—like a traffic light that stays yellow for a while. It’s a phrase pregnant with layered meaning: part intent, part courtesy, part habit, and part performance. What it actually means depends entirely on the context and the relationship between the people involved.

To begin with, saying “Coming hai!” often serves as a soft closure to an interaction. It gives the impression that the person is preparing to leave, but it also allows space for any last-minute thoughts, counter invitations, or emotional negotiations. It’s a polite exit strategy, not a literal one. In many cases, the act of saying it is more important than the act of leaving. It acknowledges the passage of time and the impending need to go, while still honouring the slow rhythm of conversation or the warmth of social presence.

In a society like Nepal’s—where hospitality is deeply embedded in the culture, and where social gatherings often stretch beyond scheduled times—sudden exits can feel abrupt, even rude. “Coming hai!” gives both the speaker and the host time to psychologically transition. It also fulfills a social expectation: you can’t just get up and walk away. There needs to be a prelude, a softening, and the phrase functions precisely as that.

Additionally, it reflects our flexible relationship with time itself. While official life might run on strict schedules, informal Nepali life flows on a more elastic clock. A person might say they’re leaving at 3 PM and actually depart at 4:15, and yet no one will demand an explanation. In fact, it’s almost expected that people will overstay, especially if the company is good. Time, in such settings, is not a rigid ruler but a shared experience shaped by mood, energy, and comfort.

Language plays a key role too. The phrase “Coming hai!”—with its hybrid English-Nepali syntax—carries a casual friendliness. The “hai” at the end softens the tone, adds warmth, and makes it feel less abrupt. It doesn’t sound final; it sounds affectionate. It’s like a goodbye that doesn’t shut the door all the way. And so the listener, knowingly, doesn't get up to see you off. They simply nod, continue sipping their tea, and carry on the conversation, fully aware that you’re not really leaving just yet.

There’s also a performative element to this ritual. Saying “Coming hai!” is a signal to the group that you’re not the one clinging on—it’s just that you happen to still be there. It offers a way to protect one’s dignity while indulging in the comfort of lingering. It’s a mutual agreement between speaker and listener that the moment is too warm, too full, too unsaid to let go just yet.

But not everyone finds this habit charming. For those raised with more punctual expectations, or for professionals juggling tight schedules, this casual attitude toward time can be frustrating. It can delay plans, create miscommunication, or simply waste hours. And as Nepal becomes more globalized and connected, with faster communication and tighter commitments, this unhurried rhythm is beginning to clash with newer ways of being.

Still, even with such frictions, the habit endures. Perhaps because it reflects something deeper: our collective resistance to haste. In a world rushing to be faster, more efficient, more productive, the Nepali “Coming hai!” is a quiet rebellion. It says: relationships matter more than timelines, warmth more than precision. It keeps us rooted in the moment, even if only for a little longer than planned.

So next time someone says “Coming hai!”, take it not as a schedule update but as a cultural cue. Don’t stand up to see them off just yet. Offer another cup of tea, a fresh story, or a comfortable silence. Because chances are—they’re not really going anywhere. Not immediately, at least.