And the story is the same, over and over. Melvin. Darpan. Sanjay. It's a tale of teenagers holed up in tin shacks injecting whatever they can afford into their veins. It's a tale of jumping trains from Siliguri to Calcutta to Bombay buying drugs. It's stealing. It's running from the police. It's your wife leaving you. It's feeling alone, without purpose, without scope. It's a familiar tale told all over the world now. But there's a twist to the Darjeeling Hills version. Maybe because this is India—a country wedged between the modern and the ancient. Maybe because when you know you've been forgotten, something else kicks in.
- (C)2009 Harry Bohm, all rights reserved
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