Gigilo

Three Mothers, One Secret

The Ganga was already rising when the three of them first walked into Banaras Hindu University as students. Late July. Heat sat on Hanuman Gali like a wet cloth. The air tasted of river, incense, and diesel. First-year BCom. Same faculty. Same mess. Same lane they had never really left. They had grown up in three houses standing in a row off a quiet gali behind the main road. White walls, inner courtyards, first-floor balconies close enough that a voice carried without being raised. Upper middle class. Family businesses. Enough money that no one announced it, enough order that the…