CHAPTER 1 — Many Faces, One Ground From a distance, the town appeared almost flawless. Every morning, when the sun rose above the uneven rooftops and narrow lanes, it painted everything in the same pale gold—temples and houses, schools and markets, old trees and newly paved roads. Light did not discriminate. It touched every surface equally, as if making a silent promise that this land belonged to everyone in the same measure. But equality, Vaishnavi had learned, was often a matter of distance. Up close, the town breathed differently. It inhaled harmony and exhaled caution. People spoke the language of