‘Not Thakurmar Jhuli,’ little Sonai stomped her foot as her grandmother picked up the Bangla book of folktales again. She had heard each tale from the book at least half a dozen times over. Her grandmother laughed and had some kwai (betel leaf), the local areca nut, and added a dose of lime to it, and then added some more coal to the charcoal heater. It was January and winter in Shillong was unforgiving. She looked at Sonai, who was now six and loved hearing stories and reading the books they got from the Sunday library. Winter holidays meant more...