I fell down the stairs in the hotel in Samastipur and hurt my foot badly. My taxi driver helpfully took out a lathi and it became my walking stick.

As I wandered around Samastipur with a lathi it struck me: why is a taxi driver carrying a lathi in the boot of his car? “Kabhi kabhi zaroorat pad jaati hai,” he declared. You never know when you need it, when you get into a fight. Bihar, of course.

The injury was worse than what I thought. Ligament tear, the doctor declared. Cutting my trip short I return to Delhi. As Indigo forgets to bring a wheelchair to the plane, I assure the crew I’ll manage, I have my lathi.

I told them the story of how I got the lathi, how the taxi driver would carry it as protection, how very Bihar that was. An Indigo crew member said, “I carry a hockey stick in my car. You never know when you need it, driving around Delhi NCR.”

A rude reminder about how unsafe women feel in Delhi. I had no words.