Avinab Tripathi 1 The first light of dawn draped the ghats of Varanasi in hues of saffron and pale gold, casting long shadows across the stone steps as the Ganga stirred with life. Asha, a slender girl of thirteen, sat barefoot on the cold stone, her knees drawn close to her chest, watching the river awaken with the city. Pilgrims descended the steps, their chants mingling with the rhythm of conch shells, bells, and the flutter of pigeons rising in great swirls of wings. The air was thick with incense, the sharp tang of camphor smoke, and the brine of…
