"The road led us a merry chase over mount and ridge; we bounced and
tossed, dipped into small streams, detoured around an unfinished
causeway, slithered across dry, sandy river beds and finally, about
5:00 P.M., we were close to our destination, Biur. This minute
village in the interior of Bankura District, hidden in the protection
of dense foliage, is unapproachable by travelers during the rainy
season, when the streams are raging torrents and the roads serpentlike
spit the mud-venom.
"Asking for a guide among a group of worshipers on their way home
from a temple prayer (out in the lonely field), we were besieged by
a dozen scantily clad lads who clambered on the sides of the car,
eager to conduct us to Giri Bala.
"The road led toward a grove of date palms sheltering a group of
mud huts, but before we had reached it, the Ford was momentarily
tipped at a dangerous angle, tossed up and dropped down. The narrow
trail led around trees and tank, over ridges, into holes and deep
ruts. The car became anchored on a clump of bushes, then grounded
on a hillock, requiring a lift of earth clods; on we proceeded,
slowly and carefully; suddenly the way was stopped by a mass of
brush in the middle of the cart track, necessitating a detour down
a precipitous ledge into a dry tank, rescue from which demanded some
scraping, adzing, and shoveling. Again and again the road seemed
impassable, but the pilgrimage must go on; obliging lads fetched
spades and demolished the obstacles (shades of Ganesh!) while
hundreds of children and parents stared.
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