Our conservation

Source: Sanjida Jui

It took us a few months to arrange the trip. We had to establish contacts with at least three armed groups who reign over the forest. Only after getting green signal from them that we knew we were going there.
It was a motley crowd — our guides. A gunman carrying a Remington .22 rifle to guard against wild animal attacks, a journalist from Bagaihat who actually coordinated everything, a young boy of about 20 whose purpose of accompanying us was unclear but he was believed to be a spy from one of the armed groups and a local union parishad member.
And at the end of the first day’s journey, lay under a quarter-moon hanging there in the west, casting a pale light around. Our conservation had now turned to how snakes infest the hills and how frequently people get bitten.
We could see the river flowing by, its water receded even further. We were getting worried. If there was no rain tonight we would either have to walk to the destination or abandon the trip.
Just then there was a yelp from the gunman: “Snake.”
In the beam of the flashlight, we saw this three feet long reptile, red as amber, slithering across the gunman’s foot.
Before any of us could say ‘zip’ the gunman pulled out his knife, slashed the snake into two and flung it into the river. We sat dumbfounded.
We had a silent dinner and dispersed to sleep. But before sleep I had to relieve myself in the bush. It gave me Goosebumps thinking of all those snakes lurking out there.
And right now sitting here all wet in the dark hut I was happy that Gangaram would be full and furious tomorrow and my boat would move.
Woke up at 5.30 and found the hills shinning in golden rays.