Abhishek was in front, describing the history of the forest, which was declared in 1997 by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site. We dared not say it aloud, but all we could think of were man-eating
tigers. Another Indian, Sanje, positioned himself at the very end of our line. He, too, had an unlocked rifle.
Once in a while, we would catch sight of something between the trees, but they turned out to be small monkeys, lining up to watch us parade in such finery of baseball caps, floral shorts, and
plain trepidation. Abhishek’s voice was calm, soothing, very much the same mystical voice he used last night. Sanje was silent, but his eyes scanned the horizon and the shrubs. He rested his
rifle on his shoulder and looked nonchalant, but his calmness felt like a taut string.
Sometimes birds would
