The Golden Scar
Chapter One The chawl groaned under the weight of the rain, a four-story stack of concrete and rust that clung to the Bombay coast like a barnacle. Inside, the air hung with the damp smell of wet wool and the sharp, metallic tang of the butcher’s cold room next door, where the wind howled through the vents. Usha Dutta sat at the loom, her hands moving with a speed that bordered on panic, the...
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