Pramod Gupta Chapter 1: The Pushkar sky was ablaze with the twilight gold of November, washing the desert fairground in hues of copper and crimson. Thousands of camels stood tethered under brightly colored tents, while locals and tourists milled about—some bartering over livestock, others snapping photos of bearded snake charmers and turbaned herders. Drums beat in rhythm with the swirling ghagras of Rajasthani dancers, and the air smelled of roasted peanuts, camel sweat, and incense. Yet amid this festival of color and tradition, a shrill scream pierced through the evening cacophony. It came from a sandpit just beyond the edge…