THE ROAD

TO

DHANDA

Welcome to Assam

IT was the familiar smell of citrus trees wafting in through the train windows

that told Radhika that she was in India. It was little more then two years since

she had first crossed the border from Nepal in the innocent belief that she was

going on holiday and beginning a great adventure. Instead, she had become an

unwitting pawn in the lucrative international trade in human organs and her

kidney had been ripped out of her against her will.

It was almost unthinkable to Radhika that she could still be under the control

of the trafficking ‘mafia’, but Purne and Rajan had claimed to be related to her

husband, who had himself been introduced to her by Murari Pariyar, in the first

place. With all this in mind, Radhika had little option but to conclude that this

was the case. Had the gods really deserted her? Where was Lakshmi now? What

had she done in her previous lives to deserve all this?

As Radhika watched the train steam on she felt at odds with the beautiful

landscape outside. Cobalt blue skies contrasted breathtakingly against the

endless green fields in which lucrative tea leaves grew. Occasionally, Radhika

would catch a glimpse of the colourfully clad female harvesters, wending their

way down the hills, delicately balancing reed baskets on their heads. They

appeared so free and easy in their work.

Why couldn’t she have found such a job? Was it really too much to ask for?

She had always been prepared to work hard to improve her life, but for some

reason no matter what she tried she always seemed to end up in trouble.

She did her best to stay calm throughout the journey for Rohan’s sake, but

unlike the last time she had travelled from Kathmandu to India, she now had

bitter experience to draw on. In one sense, motherhood had made her feel

stronger and she certainly had an overwhelming desire to shield Rohan from

harm’s way but in another sense she felt far more vulnerable. Now she had another person depending on her, someone so little that he couldn’t fend for

himself. Yet, she was now powerless and in the hands of Purne and Rajan

Pariyar. She hadn’t had any choice other than to go with them and had sensed

that any objections that she might have would have been met with violence. She

was not willing to risk her well being when Rohan’s was at stake.

Taking a deep breath, she stared out of the train window and willed herself to

stay positive, to stay calm.

After getting off the train, Radhika’s route from Nepal to India was different to

last time. She travelled with Rajan to India by bus, journeying from Kathmandu

via Kakarvitta, on the Nepal–India border at the eastern end of Nepal’s 922km

(573 mile) long East–West Highway. It took 13 hours to make the gruelling

610km (379 mile) drive from the capital and Rohan, who was still so small, was

hot and restless by the time they disembarked.

Looking at the sad and confused expression on his tiny face, Radhika could

literally feel her heart breaking with sorrow. Surely she should be able to provide

a better future for her child than this? She couldn’t help thinking that if she had

been allowed to stay at school and finish her education, as she’d so wished, she

would be in a completely different position today. She would never have come

across Lama, or any of the other men who had helped bring her to this. Now, her

primary concern was how to keep her son, her one ‘bright star’ safe.

Rajan Pariyar clearly shared none of Radhika’s concerns for Rohan. She

already knew he wasn’t kind and recognized that he could easily become violent,

if provoked. That was something she wanted to avoid at all costs so, she said

nothing, remaining quiet but watchful, even when he handed over a bundle of

Nepalese Rupee notes and what appeared to be travel documents of some kind to

a couple of official-looking men. She stayed quiet, even when he shepherded

her, Rohan held safely in her arms, into a rickshaw and they rattled across the

Mechi River bridge, the boundary between Nepal and India. She even managed

to stay silent when she glanced over her shoulder at her native country one last

time, not realizing that it would be more than two and a half years before she and

Rohan would see Nepal again.

Once on the Indian side, it was a short bus ride to Siliguri Railway Station.

Radhika was exhausted but she had to keep alert for Rohan, but the noise and bustle of this new place was overwhelming. A travel hub nestling in the base of

the Darjeeling hills, Siliguri is a rapidly developing, modern town located in the

Darjeeling district of West Bengal state. It is famous for its beautiful natural

surroundings and offers a splendid view of Kanchenjunga, the third highest

mountain in the world after Mount Everest and K2 at 8,586m (28,169ft) high.

Part of the impressive Himalaya mountain range, Kanchenjunga, which

translates as ‘the five treasures of snows’, is believed to be sacred in the Kirant

region. The ‘treasures’ are gold, silver, gems, grain and holy books and are

meant to represent the five repositories of God. But for the most part, the

magnificent surroundings largely passed Radhika and Rohan by.

When the journey came to an end, they were whisked onto a North East

Frontier Railways train taking them onto their next unidentified destination. As

Radhika boarded the train, this time settling Rohan as comfortably as she could,

she tried to dismiss a feeling of impending doom as the train pulled away from

the station yet again.