India, March 21 -- Sitting by the almost extinguished pyre, father and son were protecting themselves from the biting cold: inside, a small room, covered by tin shade, Sita, the son's young wife lay, writhing in labour pain. They pressed their heads between their knees, hearing the heart-piercing screams emerging from her mouth, at short intervals. Everything was drowned in miseries on a dark winter night. The entire village had been wrapped into darkness, lay at a little distance.
"It is very hard to survive. She has been writhing in pain the entire day. Go and see her condition," said father Pundit Vishnu Prasad.
Son, Shankar Lal said in a very sad tone," We poor pundits have no life. I pray to God, give her death, so that she may be re...