Caution:Magician Ahead

P.C. Sorcar Sr, blindfolded and on a cycle in Paris

In my youth, in Calcutta I had a pack of friends. One time we decided on an impulse to leave on a trip on the spot, taking nothing with us, no cash, and left notes at home saying we’d return in due time. After three days of travelling without tickets on assorted buses and trains, we ended up on the bank of a river in Junput, a few miles from Digha. We waved to a boatman squatting on the other side to ferry us over but he muttered a few curses and flatly refused. We were totally at a loss and sat mourning for over half an hour about this abortive turn in our bohemia. When suddenly a very old woman wobbled past us purposefully, suicidally we thought, into the water—and continued walking right across. It barely came up to her knee. That was an invaluable lesson—you never know the depth of a problem unless you wade right in. 
P.C. Sorcar Sr.