Bula clutched the doll in her hands. “Can she become Niva?,” she asked her mother. Bula’s mother suppressed a cry. “Amma, please tell me she can,” Bula insisted. Her mother hugged her and sobbed on her shoulders. “Niva isn’t coming back, dear,” she tried to console her elder daughter. Bula’s eyes watered as she looked at her younger sister’s portrait overlooking her mother’s shoulder.