A visit to my friend’s tea estate was part of my plans for today. Somebody had passed away in my village where we have purchased a house and are renovating--and as a tradition, nobody works in the village, and all stores are closed when someone goes home to God. I am across the Ketti Valley, just down from the Keraihada junction where I live. The mourning music wafts across, and I can hear the drumbeats and the live and amplified voices of my village elders singing. The melody pulls at my...


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