Yuvaraj Rana cut a corner of the polythene packet and drained the transparent liquid into a steel glass. As the dhaba owner returned to the kitchen to make me an egg burji, I took my first drag at mahua. The brew, distilled from mahul flowers abundant in the tribal belt spanning Orissa and adjoining Chattisgarh, felt harmless despite its strong odour. The last bus was still an hour away. I beckoned for one more packet of mahua. Moonlight mood, my godfather would have said. Inside the highway eatery, a group of travellers drink whisky. Packaged mahua has as many patrons as rum and whisky, Rana said. I had sniffed in the odour as soon as I walked in and was curious to feel the flower drink. Last evening I walked into a similar dhaba in Bogomunda,
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