The Faded Shield
The question that hung in the humid air of the printing house, heavy with ink and wet paper, was simple and brutal: who owned the deed to the silence? Shobha Pillai stood at the census taker's desk, her hand resting on the heavy iron ledger that recorded the names of the displaced. She was thirty-four, a border guard for the administrative palace of New Kottayam, a place that smelled of ozone...
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