The morning began like any other.
The bustling village locals moved along the narrow street as if the day had been rehearsed a hundred times before.

A man walked past with a bundle of fodder balanced on his head, the rope cutting into his forehead. Two women squatted near the hand pump, their steel lotas lined neatly beside them, voices rising and falling with gossip and complaints. Somewhere, a cow lowed impatiently, tugging at its tether. The air smelled of damp earth, wood smoke, and boiled tea leaves.