One hundred feet forward. Two hundred feet forward. Now each time he returned to his task, Manjhi could see that helping hands had made the hole a little longer than he’d left it. He found food waiting for him, too. Baskets of warm roti dripping with melted ghee. Tins of spicy dahl tickled his nose. Once he unwrapped a cloth to find a shiny new hammer and chisel glinting in the sun.
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