MOLASUR, INDIA — On a rainy day in the South Indian village of Molasur, a dusty warren of thatch huts, tiled roofs and brightly painted temples, I met a man named M. Das.
印度南部的莫拉苏尔是一个终年尘土飞扬,并有着狭小茅屋和彩绘寺庙的小村庄。
The man who had led us to the village, a cousin to Mr. M, had advised us only that a wedding was planned for two teenage sisters.
带我们进入这个村落的人是M先生的一个侄子,他只告诉我们说这场婚礼是为一对处于青春期的姐妹举办的,没有提到这个五岁的小女孩。
Whether he had slipped in the darkness and fallen in the water or had just continued walking by his home and left the village was a mystery which no one m the town could answer.
究竟他是在黑夜里失足落崖了呢,还是错过了家门,走出了村子,谁也无法解开这个疑团。
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