A few days later, the winter cold became so intense that the morning fog did not lift until late in the afternoon. Inside the small mud hut, Lila was busy working in the kitchen corner. She was rolling out flatbreads for the evening meal, her hands white with flour. Her uncle sat nearby on a woven wooden cot, smoking his traditional pipe and looking through some old farming papers.

The quiet of the house was suddenly broken by the loud, heavy sound of a car engine stopping right outside the fence.