Imagine yourself on a bus in a small eastern Nepalese hill town, about to set off as a migrant to the lowland Tarai or somewhere in NE India. There is noise and bustle, from the people who have struggled to get on the bus and secure space for themselves and their families, and from the driver who honks the horn and revs the accelerator pedal, eager to depart. You are squashed into a space with your knees bent up against the seat in front. The vibrations from the engine permeate the whole bus, and you reflect on the six hours that lie ahead until you reach your destination. A final passenger is pushed aboard and, to shouts from the fare collector, gears grinding, you are off. Just at this pinnacle of journeying, when you feel your senses could not be more fully loaded with stimuli, your emotions full of departure, the driver puts in a cassette and turns it on full volume.