![\"Discoloration.JPG\"](\"\/gallery\/albums\/Kolkata\/Discoloration.jpg\" "\\"Discoloration.JPG\\"")
<\/a><\/p>\n“What do you think this is?”<\/p>\n
“Have you tried washing it off?”<\/p>\n
“Its probably nothing.”<\/p>\n
We both offered explanations about the blotches, but neither of us dare mention leprosy after thee encounters of the night previous. Leprosy takes longer than 12 hours to take hold, right?<\/p>\n
The train was three hours late and Woody pounded a breakfast of omelets and toast in an attempt to reboot his system by loading his inbox. “Not helpful,” he groaned.<\/p>\n
He put on his flowing Khadi pants, and attempted to coax his body into healing itself.<\/p>\n
\n As he dozed, I fielded phone calls and sms messages from our dear friend and Kolkata native, Mannan Jalan. His family was so gracious as to extend an offer to stay in his home during our transit; an offer we accepted without pause or debate. It looked like Woody would need a cool, dry, silent place to let his immune system work at maximum capacity.<\/p>\n Out the train window, signs now boasted Bengali text. Welcome to Kolkata, Howrah Station. Alighting from the train, I unsheathed my camera to see it completely fogged up, and rendered unusable by the humidity change.<\/p>\n As we haggled for a taxi, rain came to Kolkata. As we rolled through traffic, the rain poured in sheets on the street vendors and coolies transporting goods. After a series of phone calls and questions our driver approximated the location of the house, in the usual indian way, of asking each person he meets on the street from some blocks, then averaging the results. When we finally dismounted, we were found ourselves by a 19th century colonial British abode.<\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n