A Murderous Awakening

The morning air was chilly as you stepped from the auto-rickshaw. While you waited for Nishok, your translator, to pay the driver, you wrapped the fabric of your chunni more closely around your bare arms, grateful for its warmth. A post-dawn mist was slowly clearing, dissipating in wisps like melting snow and taking with it the remaining darkness. The village was being revealed like a magic trick. Shades of yellow ochre began to appear on the dusty village path, interspersed …

A Murderous AwakeningRead More »