“I am telling the truth, Ganje!” Fulmaya heard a familiar voice from near the mango tree. She stood, holding her breath, with her dhoti clinging to her. “The whole village stinks like a corpse.” She recognized the speaker as Kanchha, the moneylender. “If you are a man with hair on your chest, think carefully. What do I say?” Fulmaya’s heart swelled. It was pitch dark. Ganje, sitting silently on the bench in front of the hut, was hunched over. Stars twinkled through the dense mango leaves. The sky was clear and blue. Seeing the magnificent beauty of the starry sky,...