A Feast of Vultures: The Hidden Business of Democracy in India
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Shahda’s cries rent the air, the boys’ feet sloshed through the post-harvest field, all else was quiet. She lay on a wooden cot, heavily pregnant and miserable. A few teenagers had hoisted it up on their shoulders and were hurrying across empty fields. It was getting dark in the rain-drenched village, and kerosene lamps were flickering to life.