(Journal notes, 9th November 1995)
It is some unknown hour of the morning (maybe 4 am??) and I am sitting in a little mud hut in Gira, high up in the hills of south Orissa, and caught in a cyclonic storm. There is a solitary lamp glowing which provides me with light to write this. I can't sleep any more. Pramod, Misra, Panda and I came to Gira last evening from Balamunda - this morning we head back to Karadasing. It was overcast last morning and began drizzling while we were at Balamunda. Then the rain and wind began in earnest. By the time we got here, my salwar, sweater and sleeping bag were all wet and i was freezing cold. Lit a fire and warmed ourselves up - I stood around till my clothes steamed. one of the villagers here - Suresh - cooked us a hot meal of rice and daal and legumes. It was hot and warmed me up a bit, then I slept. Earlier there was talk of rats and snakes that fall from the attic and I was a little scared to be by myself. The men are all alseep next door. But the night was fine except for the noise of the rats, and the roof which began leaking over where I lay, so I had to move. I was warm as toast in the sleeping bag (luckily the interior was dry though the cover had got wet) and i am glad i carried it up here with me. I am worried about today, though. Yesterday when Pramod and all came up the water was waist high in the rivers. Today hit will be deeper,and I hope I can keep my notebook and the drugs and the sleeping bag dry.
Some other bit of roof has fallen in just now in a shower of dirt.
Adventure? - Gram Vikas offers you enough and more. The wind is still howling outside and driving the rain in sharp, cold, needle-prick drops. I can't see the valley - everywhere is this grey curtain of rain.
