Chapter 11 Letters Never Sent

In the sparse quiet of the district guesthouse, Arinay found his solitude not empty, but echoing. The walls, once cold and unfeeling, now held whispers-of chalk dust, of children's questions, of banyan leaves rustling in hidden reply. He could not return to Padmapur yet, but he could still speak.

So he began to write.

Not letters of appeal or ju