My journey to Vishakhapatnam for a social impact study of an education programme proved to be an eye-opening adventure filled with unexpected twists and turns. Traveling alone, I found solace in the serene surroundings of the school campus where I stayed, nestled amidst the foothills.

Days were spent immersed in the vibrant company of school children, their energy and enthusiasm a constant source of joy. Evenings, however, brought an eerie silence that tinged the air with an unsettling fear, especially as darkness descended upon the landscape.

One particular night stands out vividly in my memory, as I returned to my bamboo cottage to find an unwelcome visitor – a massive lizard sprawled across my bed. Paralyzed by fear, I waited anxiously until it eventually departed, leaving me to endure a sleepless night plagued by the lingering dread of its return.

The following morning, I ventured into the nearby village where the NGO conducted computer training for local youth. Along the way, I was cautioned against looking above and instructed to remain vigilant. Oblivious to the reasons behind these directives, I complied silently, respecting the customs of the community despite my lack of understanding.

It wasn’t until after the project visit that I dared to inquire about the significance of these precautions. To my astonishment, the coordinator revealed the unsettling truth – the area was infested with Maoist activity, with locals perched atop branches, serving as lookout points to monitor movements and relay information to their comrades.

The revelation sent a chill down my spine, realizing the grave danger that lurked in the shadows of the forest. Each step I had taken, every glance I had cast, carried with it the weight of potential peril. Yet, despite the palpable fear that gripped me, I emerged from Vishakhapatnam with a newfound appreciation for the resilience of those who call these remote regions home, and a sobering awareness of the silent shadows that loom over their daily lives.