Accepting this sense of mental reassurance made her restless. How about snakes! Instantaneously, she glanced at the old man’s curved knife which looked as sharp as a sickle, and felt assured. He was just not paying any attention to Smita who was there as a journalist!Ĭondensed muddy water on the path, or brick colored and jelly like dense gatherings of ants on grasses would create chaos if somehow touching even a finger! Leeches were not around in the salty weather. She couldn’t somehow ignore him as a local guide only. And the other reason was his personality. This was one of the reasons of her annoyance towards that man. They were, however, a little more attentive to Bikas’ camera lens compared to Smita’s commitment to note down even tiny details. Neither of the two guides paid any attention to that. Bikasbabu and Tandra tried to keep up with Smita’s fast pace but the annoyance generated by their unwillingness reduced their speed. That man’s behaviour had not been friendly so far during their journey from Ferry ghat up to here. They had asked around and come to know that, without him, it wouldn’t be safe to visit these areas. But, Bikasbabu and Tandra nagged vehemently to let him accompany them. She would have still managed to leave him behind. She wouldn’t have allowed this annoying man to be a part of their team, if he didn’t have the special skill to differentiate between fake chirping and real birds. It was in fact reassuring that the almost silent old man and his partner were safeguarding them from the front and also from the back. A thought about how he would react if he had noticed this thrashed road made her feel terrified. Without even looking back, Smita realised that Bikasbabu was gossiping with Tandra about her. No one would have made this sort of arrogant tow-mark on the wet jungle with extreme lush vegetation and grasses, if they feared setting of alarm. Whoever dragged it along did it with much confidence. It was possibly some unconscious animal, or another inanimate object, because no effort to run away or of any apparent resistance could be found. After walking for a few paces on the narrow jungle path, a pair of alarmed eyes observed drag-marks on crushed ferns, of some sort of heavy object having been dragged along. Somehow, the primary route was found again. Moreover, our effort to follow that bird landed us into an impossibly difficult situation. But the specific one, which is making this song, couldn’t be identified. Unusually high chirping notes resembled the whistling sounds made by the convoy of military jeeps. Translated from the Bengali by Dolonchampa Chakraborty
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