After I experienced the most dramatic Orchestra by the Frogs and Company, drunk Kaushik later that night told me to rethink leaving for home instead consider this as a mystical invitation for a tribal wedding that he will be attending later that week.
I was already on an extended journey here in Bengal, but incessant downpour set me up for long at Kaushik’s home in Jhargram.

During one of those rainy nights Kaushik received a phone call, where his friend invited him a day prior to his sister’s wedding . I got excited and we decided to leave, with a condition. His friend asked us to reach by the daylight.
We started from his home on time, but rain and bad roads took whole day to reach that place from where we had to take the last jeep for the wedding home to his friend’s village. It was a strange place. There were many people but I felt there was no one talking. Like at any crossroad in the world, people were walking, buying things, standing, staring, smoking their tobacco but still the whole aura had an abnormally quietness to it.
Across the road In front of me, stood three elderlies, they looked like a copy of the other, exactly same and must have been sisters. All sitting outside their big, arched door home; they should be over sixty, and their seemingly never cut long hair reached their ankles, where their skirts ended. Meanwhile one amongst them stood and started writing something on the outer wall. That whole front was filled with Bengali letters. They didn’t look like normal elderly’s for sure. And I just couldn’t look anywhere else but them. I should have gathered courage to walk up to them but it was the time and Kaushik’s panic that held me to mere observing them from far.
Kaushik cried out loud, asking me to get our bags as he had found probably the very last jeep after the last one had gone before we had arrived. It was late. I had forgotten what kaushik’s friend had advised until inside the car, the driver’s help sitting beside cautioned hiding anything expensive in our bags including our watch. There was a particular place in the journey, they talked among themselves, where the so called dacoits used to stop the cars, buses and loot people. In some cases if you come as offensive they might even shoot you. Kaushik took my camera and hid it, and we all in our bodies started waiting for it to come.
The jeep moved through the dark jungle alone, inside we were anxious, silent. Throughout the journey, the road had no lights, there were no junctions, stopping points, not even homes or huts; rather the only thing that the locals sitting in the car were most concerned about was that there was not a single vehicle that had come from the opposite direction, there must be something horribly wrong! Anxiously under our fainting breath, we all waited. And suddenly one cried out loud in exasperation, it is about to come! see that curve; the others asked the driver to not stop, driver held his pace, faster than average, the big trunks of the trees where the car’s light fell, on either side, were covered by impenetrable bushes, the curve arrived sharply. as the road turned left and someone yelled out loud that there is no fallen tree on the road, means no probable blockage, and we might just pass. In utter anxiousness all hell broke loose inside the car when nothing happened and we passed that place. Personally it was a tense time carrying low stomach pangs as I had never imagined such a thing still happens.
At last we reached Kaushik’s friends place. It was late in the night and I preferred to sleep. Kaushik and his friend decided to go upstairs, with McDowell, that he really wanted to gulp all down after today’s experience.

Morning arrived within no time. Even before I could sit up and stretch my arms on my bed sat two pretty ladies with breakfast. It included white rice dipped in mustard oil, four Rasgulla’s and a full-formed fish. I couldn’t even stare at my breakfast long enough; probably I was still in sleep. I think they felt bad when I told them I cannot eat it, likewise they were astonished to learn that I don’t eat fish; How is it possible? It’s just a fish! It is a water fruit! It’s not even a non-vegetarian dish! That morning I couldn’t be more thankful to Kaushik when he came to my rescue.
Evening arrived, and we left for the wedding. It was further deep in the village. Kaushik took his friend’s bike. I sat behind looking and praising the beauty all over, I was so intrigued that my eyes kept going back only to the red earth. Soil like this, as far as you can see was red, it was unreal. Laal Maat(red clay) as they called it.
We had reached early. The sun was setting, and people have only started to arrive now. The bulbs were set up and soon came into being. As night slowly crawled over the light, night creatures of all sizes and forms in tens, hundreds and thousands started hovering around the yellow bulbs. Some were very creepy, some big and few even could be seen carrying eyes. They were all over, so much so that they seemed to outnumber any other moving being. May be because it was humid as it hadn’t rained for past few days.
Not far, women had started gathering, forming a circle. It was that time when there was no DJ, neither there was any music. Instead women in numbers kept joining the circle, singing, making sounds from their mouth as they do in Bengali weddings. They were performing their local dance and with each beat they moved two steps ahead, one step back. And it went on, in between women kept coming and leaving.

Away from the dance, few men carried extra large utensils. Five big round steel containers were placed under five isolated bulbs. They were half filled with water. Soon two men brought a big piece of cloth, a little bigger than an average towel, positioned themselves and started hitting the flapping, fluttering, flying insects around the yellow filament bulb in such a way that insects started falling into the tub. Taking turns, men and children went on bringing them down for about an hour till the container was brimming with all kind of fruit flies, moths, grasshoppers, ladybugs and the likes; many died on their way, some drowning under the weight of others or with mere water touch, and many broken from the uncalled torture; still many were moving with a wing or two ripped apart, trying to evade what they cannot.
I stood far and quiet, looking at this metaphorical dream, cold-blooded mutilation of sorts; of course it was kind of overwhelming to see this happening. Soon two people started swirling the water, creating a whirlpool, squishing-mashing the insects, mixing them well with the liquid. They kept revolving and reversing the water till it changed its colour to something close to dark brown. By now, the liquid had also become thick. It was time to filter the water away from whatever remained of insects.
The remaining brown water had been boiling for over an hour. Later Some potatoes and lot of garlic was added. While the separated parts of insects were put up for drying in front of table fans before they were taken for grinding. With lots of spices added to the grinder, standing there, astonished I could not imagine its source. It then put on a big frying pan to roast. The whole process was so smooth that it felt its an old practice or a meal for the guests of the once flying uninvited guests. And looking at the transformation of once small happy beings into tiny, grain like talc mixed with spicy particles, it strangely started to appear very healthy.
With blood water almost ready, numerous people were seen getting into a line to taste this delicacy, some went back to catch more and I, well I don’t think I ate anything at all in that wedding. My hunger had died many deaths.

Post wedding, I left for Howrah Railway Station. At last it was time to bid my dearest friend bye. Kaushik came all the way to drop me at the Howrah Junction. And I at last escaped the remaining rains.
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Thank you
If today is the first time you arrived on The Road To Nara, you are heartily welcome ~ Namaste
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ROAD TO NARA is an Ethnographic Blog of History, Stories of Culture, Art, People, Rivers, Folk, Mysticism, Meditation, Mountains, Trees and Tantra Yoga- Science of Ancient India and the Indigenous World that brings World’s Most Important Stories to your mailbox.
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I will take this opportunity to introduce you to About me and importantly
As a co-traveller, will take you through the Ten Lessons I learnt from several years on the road, before you coarse on your own Road to Nara.
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You might also like to know about My Little School Project.
If you wish to come over for a visit someday, that you must, you will be heartily welcome here
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If you have anything to share, or feel like saying a hello, please feel free to write to me at lotusofnara@gmail.com
To follow my walks through the rural Indian Subcontinent, find me at :
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and a newly started YouTube Channel where you are welcome to come, enjoy some travels, more closely with sounds and scapes to see.
Road To Nara by Narayan Kaudinya


Such beautiful pictures and so well written!👌
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Shreya, thank you for writing.
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Beautiful pics and a sweet story
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Very sweet Ashok. Thank you.
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My pleasure Narayan
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Oh my God, a different experience, I too wouldn’t have eaten anything. One country and each place so different. Thank you for sharing.
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Absolutely, like each person carrying light and many other things, is also our country. So Happy to know Lakshmi you actually read it. Thank you.
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You were brave to witness the capturing and grinding 😅😅
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haha. i was amused. I was there but to tell you i brought my tortoise shell around my eyes. Just mum, i kept seeing 🙂
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😅😅
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That feast of insects sounds downright cannibalistic. I’m glad you made your way out of that backwater.
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Haha. With the accuracy and professionalism they performed this feat, i am sure they must be having lot more than eyes saw.
But Somewhere now, i think the feast took all eyes, over shadowing the whole journey!
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It appears Not so normal wedding experience and the food😨, anyways, experience do teach us a lot many things 😊😊😊😊👍very well written 👍👍👍& congrats!💐 You are nominated by me for the Ideal Inspiration Blogger Award, do have a look 😊😊
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Aushi, I think i am writing to you after sometime. I hope you are doing things happily.
Well, the way it all turned out, nothing was normal in this trip. Even though majorly everyone left with the insect incidence in their minds, instead inside me i had been carrying those three elderly women’s vision, of how they were!
Wow, look at that. Thank you. Any award is an honour, and by you 🙂 I will soon look at it.
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I too☺️was looking forward for the same 3 ladies, like what next? 🤔But then another scary incident happened, and i went with the flow😊😊
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And see, that happened in real life to me, and like you went with the flow 🙂
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Yeah, so brave of you😊😊👍👍
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Aushi, Well nothing like bravery, just didn’t find any reason to run away or not look at something i had never seen.
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😊😊
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❤️
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I was hoping for a photo of the three elderly women!
I follow your blog to experience – through your eyes and words – cultures different from my own. You never disappoint. Thank you.
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You know Rebecca for many months i kept telling myself that i will go back, may be rent a place for a week or two to find out about them. I loved the idea of exploring and writing in and about that town, but now may be a new town, a new village, newer minds wait.
I would like, that you take a dip so deep here, to never even think of any disappointments. My regards and love to you and your beautiful wild family 🙂
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Interesting imagination.
Hope you never experience this in real life. 😂😂😂
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Dearest Rupali, everything written here is lived 🙂 all of it.
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😱
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Sir , I read and enjoyed it, it is amazing. You suffered a lot with hunger and at last you got insect soup. 🤗 the way you did the humanization of frogs that is awsm and I think this blog is a perfect place for reading such adorable things. 👌🙏
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Thank you for stopping by Dolly, and no i did not have any insect soup and neither i humanised any frogs, i think even frogs won’t like it.
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J know you didn’t drink , and frogs also don’t like that but in your travel story I felt that that’s why I said that.
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Beautiful aspect is that you felt something while reading it. Delighted Dolly.
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I know that is your travel writings , live and real.
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Thank you, very kind and thoughtful of you dear Dolly. Hoping to have your presence around.
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I am happy to your uplifting words.
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You are very thoughtful sir really.
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This is absolutely fascinating!!! I particularly love the women keeping the song going by arriving and departing to/from the circle….amazing. Also…the insects being harvested into the tubs and the soup that was made from it…wow. Your sentence, “My hunger died many deaths.” is brilliant! Thank You for all of this. You’re a wonderful writer/traveler!!! Cheers! 😊
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Dearest Forrester, i always feel delighted with your presence here. It could be that i get to write forest and your colors. Humbled. Thank you.
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My absolute pleasure!!! 💕
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Nice blog
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Thanks Sania
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Wonderful photos that are so evocative of the places and the experience. Travel can sometimes provide us with untold drama and we go through a range or emotions that we would never experience if we were safe and settled at home.
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Thank you coming over here Anne. And for these words that now rest here.
Travels if done in awareness and with a focus towards serving, being in harmony with the environment- there can be no better education for a human.
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Oh my.
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haha 🙂
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Beautiful pictures and Very interesting post
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Thank you, and that you really spent time here.
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Narayan, this is a spellbinding account of another world, perhaps a look back in time. Thank you so much for sharing! All the best! Cheryl
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Its a pleasure Cheryl. Thanks for coming over and having your words. Experiencing this was as much spellbinding for me 🙂
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Evocative reading. I wasn’t expecting the insect soup. In theory, it sounds splendid and an efficient way to get protein. In reality, I’d have a hard time tasting it but I am glad to have read about it. I can just imagine the towel dance !
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haha. Even i wasn’t expecting seeing it, leave having it altogether. and well, the dance was very measured and meticulous 🙂 Thanks Sandyl for coming over though, and having your words. Pleasure.
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I love reading about your travels, not knowing what to expect at each new place!
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Janet, its a pleasure to have you here. And for your words, very kind of you.
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What a fascinating experience and wonderful photos. Thanks for sharing.
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Priscilla, happy to have you here again after some time. Just yesterday someone narrated me a horror story and i felt it is one of the most daring directions a writer explores.
Tell me Priscilla, would you consider Stephen King as a horror writer ?
But Anyways, Thank you so much.
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Quite an adventure! Recently had read a book set in Nigeria in which there was a scene with lots of flying insects after some rain, and kids go around catching them in nets and taking them to their moms to fry and eat. Did not realise there are similar practices in some parts of India.
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Ankur, i am kind of bewildered at myself, how can I miss your words. Coming here after this long a time. I must thank you to start with. And well, I will come over soon. Thank you for your presence here again.
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No worries. Virtual world is a fluid space. People come and go as convenient. No judgments or apologies or thanks called for. Cheers…
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So true Ankur, thank you.
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Much praise for your work. 🙏🏻
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Thanks and appreciate much for reading ji.
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How wonderful to participate in such a unique wedding – even if there was fish for breakfast… We went to a Bedouin wedding in Cairo when we lived there. I ate a little of the meat but I don’t know what animal had provided it.
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Kerry 🙂 It still remains a unique experience for me on some levels. Though i have gone on to make a book project out of it. Thank you. Happy that something in you decided to read this story.
The site chatty kerry looks distinct and ‘about’ is a delightful invitation to instantly start chatting with Kerry if nothing else.
Welcome my new friend.
Nara x
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Congratulations on the book project, Nara! 🙂
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Thanks Kerry.
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Fascinating and adventure read. Great pictures
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Thank you Monica. Bengal of that time, a decade ago i am talking about was as fascinating, quiet and magic to tell you. Thank you so much. These images are close to me too.
Thank you again
Nara x
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What a lovely story, and the images are gorgeous!
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Thanks, it was a lovely day, before covid when people were taking days for granted and enjoyed and travelled howsoever.
Have you been to India Msdedeng ?
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Unfortunately no. One day perhaps. It must be gorgeous, eh?
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Hello, Narayan! Very interesting n v well written. Kudos.
The Dance You describe is More ‘Adivasi’ than Bengali. But the Mustard oil, Chapati are Not Adivasi. Santhali n Bengali are akin. Were You in those borderlands? Santals/Adivasis are more Bow n Arrow, Small Axe kind of people. I have lived in the Bhagalpur diocese, a Santal area for 50 months. Santals do not carry guns, n further, they are a timid lot. Yet We did have to go past what were Openly known as Chor/Dakait (Thieves n Robber) villages, Not Santals.
You see that Your post intrigues me. …Went searching for Nara, and Google took me to Gujrat! From Your photos, the men are not Santals. Would be interested in knowing the location of that village.
Bef I conclude, let me ask You to use some Bigger fonts n smaller paragraphs for Old eyes like mine! 🙂
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Hello Swamiji, such a wonderful, happy gift arrived in the form of your words, made me imagine what could have lead you here!
it even took me back to the lane of memory, like yourself when you talk of staying in the tribes for over 4 years.
This was in 2008, when i was visiting a Santhali friend’s home who have grown out of their community and were living in Jhargram. He then took me to the most beautiful travels, to his friends and relatives living in the deeper reaches, touching the tribes, as you rightly pointed out they were timid, i experienced the same, in Purulia, Jhalida and some villages which were completely tribal in nature.
It was also a time of change, when i felt intruding in their lives with my camera hence made photographs very cautiously.
The photos you see are of common bengali men mostly, as i lost a big part of my work there to not friendly hard disk.
Thank you for coming over, for your words, carefully writing your experience, your time here.
Narayan x
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Thank You, Narayan! Keep up Your good work. 🙂
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Also let me introduce you to something you might really feel one with, being an ancient traveller yourself, knowing, learning the old Indian ways. I share with you my two posts which i am certain you would like to delve into
first is the first post which i thought is a must for myself to write, my understandings, my principles and my experiences, here :
https://road-to-nara.com/2020/04/22/yogi-guide-to-magic-world/
And the second is something you might also love as i am on a journey right now and its coming down to the final chapter this Saturday.
I will be sharing with you the second chapter that shall take you to the most beautiful landscapes our country has, and from there you might like and see whatever you would love, sharing it here :
https://road-to-nara.com/2021/07/15/life-and-nothing-more-ii/
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Thank You for sending over those things, my dear Narayan. Tried opening both, and hv run into something callted ‘privy errors,’ which do not allow the pages to open.
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aa.. apologies. I do not know how that happened. Thank you for informing, and writing.
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Thank you again
Narayan x
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A most interesting post from a very observant and respectful writher!
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Thank you so much for reading your honourable comments. Thank you.
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it meant to read ‘writer’…
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😊
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Altogether an extraordinary experience, from the long, dangerous journey to witnessing the destruction of all those insects.
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It was Caro, experiences on the Road. And well, nothing like it i heard or seen ever again- the soup of insects.
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The description of the food preparation is so vivid. I don’t think I could eat dinner had I read the part before.
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GC, I am smiling, thank you.
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But did you hear or seen any such thing in/from Bengal or around?
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No never. Must be some tribal practice…?
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Oh yes, for sure. As you read, it took us time to reach, where exactly now, i dont really remember.
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