untouchable

I didn’t need a photo to remember this moment,

I didn’t need a photo to remember this moment,

I needed a photo to bear witness. I needed evidence.

A Dalit woman, an “untouchable,” dead in a train station, some little dignity afforded her by what unknown angel?
Death is public here. It’s everywhere.

I had traveled to the nothing town of Agartala to cross the border into Bangladesh. The border was closed…