She was followed by her husband. I was startled to think that she was a bisexual. But I knew there had to be something wrong. Rohini was crying. It wa... visible even when she was drenched. She was holding her saree as though it might fall if she lifted it up. Her sister was saying “Rohini, I’m infertile, but I want a baby of my husband and of my blood. You are wasted anyways, give him the pleasure or watch your sister die in front of you.” That explained a lot. Poor Rohini had no other go. She. It was too late to go back.I peeked outside. The train stopped at a station and I saw two men thatwere waiting by the docks. They wore no uniforms but they stood erect,and their eyes revealed a hardness about them that could only be forgedby war and conflict. They boarded the train.It was time. With some regret, I took out my pocket knife and startedundoing the bandages that tightly bound my breasts. They bounced free. Ilet out a sigh of relief. I could at least now breath normally. Theywere an. More

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