We lingered at Hathipole Circle after dark, the police station only a civic name on the junction, and stepped into a textile shop in the old Elephant Gate bazaar. Four-armed Ganesha sat against a deep blue field in a white dhoti, cream-headed, his gold crown packed with pearls and red stones. A pink lotus and a silver-blue axe filled two hands; another rose in blessing. White bead garlands looped his chest, a tiny je…
