I returned to Yamuna Flower Shop in the afternoon carrying my father’s letter in my backpack and some cow dung I had collected in a bucket. It was a quiet, windy afternoon in the magnificent city of Kolhapur... The door to the shop was open as usual. What was unusual though, was the customer standing inside. A young, well-built man wearing a smart hard-pressed suit. He was standing tall, exuding the confidence only an influential or rich person could have. He was examining a stack of hand-wea...