Walking on the cracked pavement, the air smelled like hot streets and sweet mangoes. Dust swirling around, like confusion in my mind. I only had five rupees in my pocket which I earn from selling small things to tourists. My stomach growled with hunger, a feeling I was used to ignoring. Yet, today was a different pain—a sharp pain in my heart, more immediate and constant. Across the street, a small figure sat hunched in the shade of a wilting banyan tree. A girl, no older than six, her skin the color of polished mahogany and eyes like pools of …