IN THE SLOW LANE
I NE LEFT TURN PAST THE Ranaghat Bridge and the pitched National Highway 513 is all but gone, leaving us to navigate a mud trail. The jeep Sukumar Tayeng is driving, rattles. To break the silence of the green overgrowth around us, I ask Tayeng, “How far do we have to go?” He replies, “It’s a very old car.” I look up inquiringly, spot a hearing device plugged into his ear, and fall quiet, musing about the age of the vehicle, even more aware of the rattles now.
It’s finally not raining today after a week of torrential downpours. As the car struggles over wet mud, I think aloud (really loud this time), “I hope we don’t get stuck in this slush!” The wheels squeal, and the (a single-edged Chinese sword), smiling at me as he does this.
