[From November 2007.]
Dakshinkali to Daman. Steep deteriorating dirt track past temples, monastery, through villages of life on the other side of the ridge to Kathmandu, so only mild collisions with the modern. Goats, ducks, cows, sheep, plodding in the dust, women doing wash at the fountain set in concrete poured in the last twenty years, now just a fixture against familiarity. Wood against wood, gravel underfoot, broken by an engine whir, and then a young woman with smart eyeglasses, or a satchel from the city, and one wonders if she’s the daughter who went to school far away and is now returned to visit or has moved back.