It is in the early 1800s and somewhere in the narrow lanes of old Banaras a woman watches her husband get marched away by the British Army, pulled from Mirzapur and shipped to Rangoon for a war he never chose. Her grief is not grand or declarative. It is the unbearable kind caused by the emptiness of a home, the memory of footsteps that may never return and the ever-lasting wait for someone who may just be lost to history. This is the world th…
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