"Is this what we have become?" Mariyam asked, her voice trembling not with fear, but with anger. "Jose, your father built that schoolhouse. Porinju, your mother taught us all to swim in this very river. And you want to tear it apart for a piece of paper?"
The backwaters of Kuttanad were not merely a place; they were a rhythm. It was a rhythm that Porinju knew better than the beat of his own heart.
Jose looked away, shame flickering briefly across his face before arrogance took over again. "The world is changing, Mariyam. You can't stop progress."
"Is this what we have become?" Mariyam asked, her voice trembling not with fear, but with anger. "Jose, your father built that schoolhouse. Porinju, your mother taught us all to swim in this very river. And you want to tear it apart for a piece of paper?"
The backwaters of Kuttanad were not merely a place; they were a rhythm. It was a rhythm that Porinju knew better than the beat of his own heart.
Jose looked away, shame flickering briefly across his face before arrogance took over again. "The world is changing, Mariyam. You can't stop progress."