Rashmika walked along the muddy path in the Kolkata slums.
Far in the distance, visible to the naked eye, stood a stately Victoria-style memorial hall, constructed of white marble, appearing immaculate. White pigeons fluttered around, their feathers drifting down, adorning the noble atmosphere.
Below this edifice, beside the murky river waters, spread the vast expanse of slum shanties, filthy and covered with tarps of various colors, resembling mushrooms wildly sprouting after a rain.
In this country, the poorest and the wealthiest are all concentrated in the city, where heaven and hell are mixed on the land of mortals.
At the center of the slum was a railway track, where occasionally a train would zoom past, yet several naked children seemed undisturbed as they ran and played upon it.
