Hathras victim’s family walks the line between hope, despair

Her days start at the crack of dawn — the buffaloes have to be fed, and their feed buckets replenished with fresh grass from the fields that ring her mud-and-brick house; in a corner of the open courtyard where the coal fire simmers, pots of tea have to be made, before the dough for the morning rotis is kneaded and the children wake up