The Maoist We stayed at the teahouse for about half an hour. Mani returned full of vigour and we set off again, refuelled and a lot more energetic. I took the lead as I had done earlier. After a short walk we entered jungle. It was almost as though we’d been transported to a different place entirely. All around us were trees, dense, thick and grey—real jungle, far more concentrated than forest and much more intimidating. Only a little light managed to creep in, so it was also much cooler. The path here no longer ran over large stones, but was made up of shards of fallen tree branches. Because of the rain the night before, this was terribly slippery to tread on. Surprisingly, Mani was the first to fall. He clambered to his feet in seconds, and as of to his hide embarrassment briskly assumed the lead, while I took up the rear. Then, when we had been walking for almost two hours, Akio’s foot caught on a loose piece of wood. Under the weight of his backpack he keeled over. Mani turned swiftly to respond to Akio’s cry, but Akio’s slight stumble had developed alarmingly—over the side of the track and into a steep drop into thick trees and shrubbery below.
