The Weight of Heaven by Thrity Umrigar

what I’d heard about the death of a
    young political worker in police custody. And what the mood in the
    village was and all that.”
    Ellie suddenly had a sour feeling in her stomach. “What did you
    say?”
    “I didn’t know what to say. So I told him I was a friend of yours
    and that it would be a conflict for me to talk about the situation. He
    wasn’t too happy.”
    Ellie knew what it must’ve cost Nandita not to help a fellow journalist, not to weigh in on an incident that ordinarily she would have
    done her best to publicize. She felt a lump form in her throat and
    waited for it to clear before she spoke. “Thank you, Nandita,” she
    said. “I know that must have been really hard for you. And I’m sorry
    you’re getting dragged into this mess.”
    Nandita shrugged. “I’ve been dragged into worse messes, believe
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    me,” she said lightly. “And anyway, I never took a pledge to help
    every journalist who comes looking for me. So to hell with it. I’m
    sitting this one out.” She patted Ellie’s thigh. “Now, cheer up, won’t
    you? Otherwise I’ll regret having said anything to you.”
    “Don’t. You know me. I don’t care how painful the truth is—I’d
    rather know something than be in the dark.”
    “I’m the same way.” Nandita smiled, swerving to avoid an oncoming car. “I think that’s why I became a reporter.”
    As always, a crowd of children gathered around the car as they
    pulled into the dirt road that led to the NIRAL clinic. “Hello, Binu,
    hi Raja,” Ellie called as she recognized some of the children who
    had come to greet them. “How are all of you?”
    In reply, she heard a chorus of voices say, in that singsong manner
    of theirs, “Fine.” The way they stretched the word out into two syllables made Ellie laugh. She was happy to be here, had missed this
    place and these children more than she’d known, she realized.
    Several of the kids grabbed her forearm so that they looked like
    a round cloud of dust as they made their way into the classroom at
    one end of the building. Ellie looked over to where Nandita was
    standing with her own young charges. “Shall I run the class with
    the children first?” she called. “Meet with the women later?”
    “Sure. I have to do some paperwork, anyway. Ordered the vaccines this week, and I want to make sure they’re here. I’ll send
    Rakesh out to let the women know you’re in today.”
    “Make sure he informs Radha,” she called as she opened the blue
    wooden door that led to the small classroom. “She was really having
    a hard time the last time I saw her. I want to follow up with her
    today.”
    It was hot inside the room. Ellie opened the single window and
    turned on a table fan. “Haven’t you been meeting in here last week?”
    she asked and was greeted by a chorus of, “No, miss.”
    “So Asha didn’t run the class?” Asha was a shy nineteen-year-Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n
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    old villager who had finished high school and was now employed by
    NIRAL to tutor the younger kids.
    “No, miss.”
    “Well, then we have a lot of work to do.” She looked over the
    class, which had students ranging from four to twelve. She sorted
    the children according to their reading proficiencies and began with
    the first group. Some of the kids were learning the alphabet; others
    were reading on their own; a few of the really bright ones were able
    to comprehend the science and history textbooks she had purchased
    for them. Anu, one of the older girls, raised her hand and asked for
    permission to work on a jigsaw puzzle while Ellie was tending to
    the younger kids. Ellie hesitated, loath to give up any more valuable
    reading time, but the pleading look on Anu’s face made her say yes.
    “Ten minutes on the puzzle,” she instructed them, ignoring their
    groans of protest. “Then, start reading.”
    An hour and a half later, Asha entered the classroom and stood
    in the back, Ellie’s cue to