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Fiction
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Silent and safe

Fiction

by Madhulika Liddle

Jul 29, 2025

I will call him The Farmer. A middle-aged man, somewhere between forty and fifty, barrel-chested and broad-shouldered. Not one of those poor, knock-kneed, starving peasants that have become the symbol of rural India. No; this village where I live, just ten kilometres from Bulandshahr, is in the heart of India’s sugar belt, and people like The Farmer are wealthy. Not BMW wealthy, not children-studying-in-Harvard wealthy, but wealthy enough. Certainly far wealthier than I could ever hope t

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