An Afghan commoner of uncommon wisdom, Sher Shah Suri, built it around 1540 during his brief tenure as Emperor of India. The British rulers coated it with asphalt and used it to haul their colonial pickings across the subcontinent. The Grand Trunk Road of India has seen it all. But between the towns of Dhanbad and Bagodar in Bihar what you will not see is the Grand Trunk Road. The tar has vanished, the edges have merged into the open fields, and with its potholes and boulders the road resembles images of moonscape that one sees in science magazines. For three hours, our Ambassador snorts and grunts along the ‘highway’, past lyrical little towns like Isri and Dumri, with the magnificent Parashnath mountain and its pinnacled Jain temple as backdrop.

We would have forgotten that this was mafia country had it not been for rows of glistening swords and trishuls being sold openly on the roadside. This went on for more than a mile—a series of horizontal bars with swords hanging from them.

I ask my driver why these are being sold in such large numbers. ‘Naturally, for self-defence’, he replies, making me feel silly for my ignorance. I wonder where one goes if one wants to buy a sword for offence but keep the query to myself.