After a while, his mother, parched with thirst, asked for water. An earthen pot stood under a ghaf tree, but it was forbidden for Dalits to touch it.

Shuklaburhi’s father-in-law, Sri Bamacharan Prodhani, was a renowned man from Kalahaat village near Dhubri town.

The hall was filled with hungry diners. She served the dishes on each plate as if it were her own body she had cooked.

This is the way Nani is. Fire, one moment; cool water, the next.  Even her rage is special.

Days would pass before she ate even a morsel of food … and there was no one to ask after her either.

Dastgir transported farm produce for large farmers and worked as a cook whenever he could.

His mind drifted back to the hunger pangs that had plagued him from the beginning, a familiar sensation that...