| caption: |
Chapter five. Change of Course |
| caption: |
return to Assam, winter 1940; refusal of the Political Agent to allow tours in the hills |
| text: |
On a grey day three months later I sailed after all. All the way out and across India, I still couldn't believe my luck; but there at last was the Manipur Road platform, the backcloth of forest, the familiar rest-house. I walked on air up the path. It was unbelievable, it was true - I was there. |
| text: |
Half-way to the bungalow the watchman met me with a letter. Still in a daze, I opened it, and pulled out a pass for the road and a letter from the Political Agent, whose last line brought me up all standing. He regretted that this time it would be impossible for me to tour the hills. (41) It was the final blow. Fate couldn't have found a better place nor a more cruel time to deliver it. |
