Chapter 1: Arrival at the Ghat Tarak Nath Tripathi stepped off the rickety auto-rickshaw with his backpack slung over one shoulder and his thesis notes clutched tightly in a cracked leather folder. The heat clung to his skin like a second garment, thick with smoke and the smell of burning sandalwood, flesh, and Ganges water. He stood at the edge of the Manikarnika Ghat, watching the sacred river flow as if it had no memory of the centuries it carried. Bodies wrapped in saffron cloth were being carried down the steps by chanting pallbearers, while others burned on pyres whose…