The Yadavs remember the things Hemlata loved—good clothes and good food, especially Tuesday’s unfulfilled wish. Says mother Sumitra, ‘‘She loved arbi. On Tuesday morning, she went out to purchase some and told me she will cook it herself for the family when she returned home after work.’’
The living room is bare, except for a mattress. The only photo the Yadavs have of their daughter is the passport-size one, the one she got when she dropped out of school to give herself—and her family—a second shot at a better future in this city.
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