The night bus disorients time and space; it’s the most dreadful form of teleportation. For one hour, you wait in a cold drizzle on a busy street in front of a government complex called the Silk Board. You’re herded on the bus by a nervous teen with a croaking voice. You’re shuttled for 10 hours, supine. You spend 10 hours rolling around on a rubber mattress surrounded by other people in their compartments. It’s a rollicking form of sensory deprivation. Then, suddenly, you emerge blinking in the sunlight of a new town.