Those who are left behind...

"It's the same story in all these homes - the sons migrate to find jobs in the city", says the authors

It’s a still, quiet afternoon. As we walk past the village of Bhakrakot near Corbett Tiger Reserve, a strident screech pierces the air. “Is that a wild animal?” asks my daughter nervously. The screech sounds out again. It definitely sounds human. However, save for some children playing pitthoo on the terraced fields lying fallow after the spring harvest, there’s no sign of life. A mango tree rustles, and I realise that a herd of monkeys has descended on it. The screeching stops when the monkeys disappear into the forest. We move on, and about an hour later, when we’re returning