Nirbhaya’s friendship with Awindra was made possible by this new India. He is the son of a lawyer, a high-caste Brahmin; she was a Kurmi, much lower in that unforgiving ladder. His family lives in a three-story house in Uttar Pradesh; hers was cramped in the space it takes to park a car. Yet, introduced by a common friend, they felt instant affinities. They went on trips together to religious places, shared rooms, hugged, held hands, but stayed away from other intimacies, aware that beyond the cocoon of their friendship, a real and more questioning world awaited. They bought each other clothes, talked about their ambitions, discussed the Bhagavad-Gita, advised each other on their careers and investments. He introduced her to books like Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist. He was a friend to her brothers, too, helping them choose their subjects, make decisions, write résumés. He spoke to her mother sometimes on the phone, but, aware of Nirbhaya’s discomfort, never visited their home. He always picked her up from the road outside. She called him “a perfect man.”
The Girl Who Fired an Outcry in India
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