Border Tales II : The (Fl)Acid Trip

Why does Joy surprise me with every sentence? How is it that he writes so well that when I think I’ve seen what he has to say, I’m taken aback the next moment? How does his friend Kabir know where to put the perfect memes?
We’re lucky to read things this good.

The Explosive |?!|

It must have been the muffled hustle of rush hour, combined with laziness-inducing grogginess, that made the half-hour or so at the Sealdah canteen (yes, ‘restaurant’ would be putting it too charitably) seem like a blur. Not that the coffee we had did us any good. ‘Dishwater!’ one of us exclaimed, while the other passionately reminisced far better brews from establishments around town.  Neither of us knew what lay beyond Hasnabad, the last – and easternmost – station on the Calcutta suburban rail network. Except, of course, Bangladesh. Given that our previous trips were mostly smooth and hassle-free, it was natural that we expected this sojourn to the border to turn out likewise.

Until reality so rudely intervened…

When travelling to spitting distance of the Bangladesh border, kerb service is not to be expected. A touch of fearless decision making, a touch of spontaneity and a BUCKETLOAD of patience is…

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