Imagine not knowing you share the same blood as the low-caste girl your family adopted. The one that is a few years older but always dutifully providing you her company. Your mother admonishes your father for bringing this girl of a lesser societal status home, but for you she’s practically a sister.
Picture also you, now, several years later, living miles away in a different country believing you share responsibility for the girl’s eventual disappearance. The girl went missing years ago and now your conscience drives you to find her. You don’t even know she’s your half-sister yet.
The girl’s name is Mukta and she was more than just a religious prostitute’s daughter.
It is a habit of mines to skim through the newly released section at the downtown Brooklyn Barnes and Nobles near my job. If I find a book that intrigues me I will bring it to the…
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