Naziah sitting in her house, narrating her story. Pic: Kabir Khan My mother left me in Bengaluru under the care of my uncle. He worked in a Government office. Later, he asked my family to move to Bengaluru as there were more employment opportunities in the city. He managed to get us a hut to stay. My family shifted here but we didn’t have any money for food. I was seven or eight years old then—the eldest among all my siblings. We picked vegetables from riverside and sold it for Rs 7 or 8, with which I purchased dal (pulses) and…
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