Voting at Fosterganj

I have never seen so many people in the bazaar. Bunting, in the form of rival posters andeaflets, is strung across the street. The tea shops are doing a roaring trade. There is muchast-minute canvassing. For the first time Iearn the names of some of the candidates.The chaos and urgency of an Indian election comes to a sleepy town in the mountains. In the bazaar of a town that he thought was heartless, the author comes across the most beautiful human being he has met yet. One unhurried morning at a small branch of a bank, a magic oil is handed out. Read these stories and more that bring toife the drama, joys and heartbreaks ofife in small town India.