The Old Woman's Treasure

The tale the Brahminy mynahs told

It was May. Spring was over and the scorching north Indian summer was well on its way. The village—or town, as it liked to call itself since the coming of the inter-state bus terminal—stretched raggedly along the highway. Despite its ramshackle appearance, the village was a favourite snack stop for the lorries and buses that plied the busy route between…