Korok did not understand what this meant, at first, and then he did. It meant someone had decided that Devi Hills was not a forest any more, so the government could build whatever it wanted on the land.

‘But it is sacred …’ Korok started to tell his neighbours, but Rath had taken up his microphone once more.

‘Brothers, this is an excellent project by the government. It will bring jobs to you and develop this place. And you can live your lives as always. Let us work together on this. If you need to discuss anything,’ he turned to the mahji, who looked like a stick-insect next to the fat man, ‘your people are always welcome at Balangir.’

Rath and his assistants—who also seemed to have their assistants and so on in decreasing order of fatness—held a long discussion before offering to the assembly the kind of smile that terrified Korok to the soles of his feet.

Then they left for the other villages, Sorkari Patnaik and his men bringing up the rear, the police officer glaring as he looked around the crowd, not that he was expecting any trouble. Deogan was part of his area and he knew just what to expect from Gonds. Which was—nothing. The government, through him, told them what to do, and they obeyed. They always did.

The villagers stood in the clearing as more and more people joined them, waiting for the mahji to say something. He looked at the departing officials and the documents in his hands, and called a meeting of the headmen in the evening. Everyone who could, had to attend.

Evenings in Deogan were the same in every season, except during the coldest part of winter. At the uncertain hour when even the most observant can’t be sure if the sun has set or not, a quick breeze would blow through the villages around Devi Hills. This was pleasant in spring and very welcome in summer. In winter, not so much.

By the time Deogan’s few important people—including the trader—had gathered, the lone light bulb outside the mahji’s house had been lit, its harsh yellow glow not enough to light the field beyond a few square metres. Some of the headmen from other villages had stayed from the afternoon. Deogan was important, and what was decided here would show the way for them. It had always been so.

Korok’s uncle from two villages away had also arrived in the late afternoon with some food for the boy. After Korok’s father went to jail, his uncle, aunt or cousins would visit as often as they could. Korok did not want to go and live with them, mainly because he didn’t want to walk all the way back to the epho’s garden every day. Also, in some way Korok did not want his father to think he had abandoned their house in his absence.