MLB
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SARADA G MTHR DTH
On the last night of her life, our meal was a small piece of bread, torn into bite-sized scraps. There was one piece for each of us. She handed hers to me, clasping my fingers one last time, and smiled. Then her eyelids fluttered shut, and as I crouched at her side and ate, she quietly slipped away. I consider her martyrdom as heroic as Matangini’s, and as great a gift to the soul of India.
A
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