Back in the old days, the Indians knew they were on to a good thing when they turned a certain age and decided to renounce the world and head for the forest. So when a friend turned that golden age, she decided, in a token gesture, to at least do a jungle recce, but denial was not an option for she had that ultimate accessory — a toy-boy spouse.
But eye-candy and youth isn’t aphrodisiac enough unless you can also show it off as an accessory, so she turned her trip to the forest into a pilgrimage for friends old and new. Ordering a bunch of us into compliance, we found ourselves at Nizamuddin station, clutching on to our toothb
rushes as we prepared to board the night train to tiger country, Ranthambhore.“I’m going right to sleep,” I’d told my wife earlier that evening, for it had been a rough week at work, and I fully intended to catch up on my forty winks. If ours had been a cow-belt group, you might have expected some degree of bonhomie in the form of antakshri, but this was a bunch of paper intellectuals from the land of Rabindrasangeet, surely they’d be fast asleep before the train left the station?
But eye-candy and youth isn’t aphrodisiac enough unless you can also show it off as an accessory, so she turned her trip to the forest into a pilgrimage for friends old and new. Ordering a bunch of us into compliance, we found ourselves at Nizamuddin station, clutching on to our toothb
rushes as we prepared to board the night train to tiger country, Ranthambhore.“I’m going right to sleep,” I’d told my wife earlier that evening, for it had been a rough week at work, and I fully intended to catch up on my forty winks. If ours had been a cow-belt group, you might have expected some degree of bonhomie in the form of antakshri, but this was a bunch of paper intellectuals from the land of Rabindrasangeet, surely they’d be fast asleep before the train left the station? 
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