The sun sets over a small village in Kanpur, casting a golden glow over the wretched dwelling houses. The village comes under the shadows of Thakurs. A crowd has gathered near the centre, where a trembling girl is being dragged toward a hastily arranged altar. The son of the sarpanch, a fat, sweaty man with a lecherous grin, awaits her arrival.

The girl is a vision of innocence and beauty, even in her dishevelled state. Her fair skin glowed faintly in the fading light. Her beautiful honey-brown eyes now shedding tears. Clad in a traditional, rural wedding outfit. A vibrant red lehenga choli made from inexpensive fabric. Her arms are weighed down with cheap glass bangles that clink noisily as she struggles.