Ten years ago, as an intern, I was sent to a small village about 60 miles from Mangalore for a mandatory “rural posting.” It was a foreign world and I, a young and relatively affluent city-dwelling fellow, thought that the month was a terrible imposition. One evening, I was walking around the village market and came across a small shack where tea was sold. A group of old men were gathered around a rickety table....
She looked at the mirror and saw herself looking back.
It seemed as if she were being observed, and a bit critically at that. She reminded herself, “Those are my eyes looking at me. It is I who is doing the observing.”
For a moment, a glimpse of the truth.
Then, she closed her eyes...