My boyfriend died when I was twenty-one. His body was left on the highway out of Delhi while the sun rose in the desert to the east. I wasn't there, I never saw it. But plenty of others saw, in the trucks that passed by without stopping, and from the roadside dhaba where he'd been drinking all night. Then they wrote about him in the paper.
My boyfriend died when I was twenty-one. His body was left on the highway out of Delhi while the sun rose in the desert to the east. I wasn't there, I...
