‘For my people,’ Sharmila says. ‘That’s what the activists around you have trained you to say. They have employed you, Sharmila, as a saint with a tube up her nose. Sainthood is a form of employment, you know that, right?’ ‘Are you really a journalist?’ ‘You’re in love. There is a man who loves you, Sharmila. You keep all his letters in a box and you read them. You want to live like a person, not a saint.’ ‘I think you must leave.’
