It was a long road from New Jalpaiguri to the village of Naxalbari.

"It is better at the time of dawn!" Sattu said as the peak disappeared behind the railway yard sheds.

"Everything is better at dawn!" Vaibhav answered as the jeep entered the highway.

"So, first graduating from police academy then having a special degree to be called a doctor," Sattu took up a formal tone, "What are you doing out here? Punishment posting, the very first time!?"

"Misadventures in college!" Vaibhav answered dryly, clearly not wanting to bring up the past. He took hold of the tarpaulin support as the jeep swerved again.

Satyanarayan smiled again, something Vaibhav found incredibly inconsistent with a man living through the Naxal revolution. Vaibhav ultimately asked, "So how is it here? Naxalites, police! I've heard stories...."

Satyanarayan was not surprised by this statement. He simply said, "Well, police are more active since the tribals shot a police officer with an arrow. In reply, the police fired on a peaceful gathering of the Santhal people in an improper takedown. Things have not changed much in two years. Except the fires burning brighter in Kolkata because of that incident!"

Vaibhav upturned his lip at Sattu's answer. Vaibhav had seen first-hand how an insignificant shootout in a small village in North Bengal had shook up the national consciousness for years to come. New theories were born and poets found their voice through this incident. The calmness in Sattu's voice astonished Vaibhav. It seemed that neither any arrow nor bullets found any mention in the daily life of Satyanarayan Bakshi.

"They said, that you investigate by doing weird experiments with the dead. What kind of doctor are you, exactly?" Sattu asked in ghastly awe.

"I am the forensic kind of doctor. Sort of the medical expert on crime. Weird things like serum centrifugation, and others..." Vaibhav stopped talking as he noticed himself getting technical.

"Even dissecting dead bodies!? That is a morbid way to live life! Has anything like that ever been used in a police investigation before?"

"I don't dissect dead bodies, that is a coroner. And No. I am one of the first professional Forensic scientists in the Kolkata police. It has never been used in Naxalbari or the vast majority of Bengal until now, especially in a riot situation!"

"So on basis of your reports, the extremists will be going to trial!" Sattu scratched his head, "I should tell you that the police here might not take to the lawful and forensic way of things. They prefer their cases closed and the Naxalites dead!"

"You seem excited about my approach, are all the villagers? Because curfew can make people not trust outsiders!"

Sattu paused for a few seconds.

"The vast majority of them stopped paying attention long ago. Though I sometimes wonder why here?" Sattu spoke in an emotional tone, "I mean they even call those extremists Naxal now, because it started here, in the village of Naxalbari!"

"You were born here," Vaibhav asked seriously "how was Naxalbari four years ago!?"

"Unremarkable. Simmering anger, the Sikdar landlords and the Mayatalav Temple dancers" Sattu stepped harder on the accelerator looking at Vaibhav, who was at a loss but still listening aptly, "The day of the crossfire in 1967, I didn't even know about it until my grandmother told me that evening."

"You must've bantered for an explanation...?" Vaibhav empathised.

"My grandmother told me a story in reply, about lands that bordered the Bhutan Empire. Where the royal cattles grazed, mostly bulls. Wild bulls were found there too, some even say that King Mahishasur, the bull-headed demon resided in those ancient lands. The kings called it Naxalbari, just a grazing field for bulls. Later English took over, and tea estates came. Domestic labour for the said estates, who also started agriculture on untouched fertile soil and so on this village was born..."

Vaibhav suddenly noticed the infinitely stretched agricultural fields bordering the roads.

"Isn't it sowing season?" Vaibhav asked unsure if Sattu was still in his mood.

"Yes" Sattu assured him with his usual tone, "but agriculture is down. Prices have risen, this damn war is consuming everything."

"But the Naxalbari police did not ban rice export. I heard the state is more regular with their food grants in this area nowadays."

"Yes, but business and war don't bode well! Local farmers usually go to coochbehar, Siliguri town and Bihar on the other side of hills, to sell their produce. Owing to the special forces influx, the police do patrol checks so late, that all the crops, output of a whole year just rots away in a truck parked by the highway!"

"But people have to earn! You cannot live off grants all your life!"

"Why not? I like to ignore the problem until it eventually goes away. Most of us look towards small goals in life!", Sattu pressed down the accelerator harder, he was getting angry, "be it government grants or city people, every solution to our problems eventually disappoints us...!"

Vaibhav turned up his lip. "Survival gets old if you do it every day for a long time. Then comes understanding, and awareness. To do something as ridiculous as thinking that science can explain crime and criminals!"

"Yeah!" said Sattu laughing at Vaibhav's words. Which sounded very unbelievable with Vaibhav speaking them, "you are a man from Kolkata!"

Vaibhav and Sattu laughed heartily. They did not bother with their place in the world at that particular moment.