In New Delhi last month, the 500 members of India's Parliament prepared to go home. In the great olive green chamber, amid laughter, chatter and happy wishes for a pleasant vacation, hardly anyone noticed a strange, solitary figure in a yellow silk tunic and turban, slumped over his desk, weeping bitterly.
Finally, one of his colleagues walked over and asked him what the matter was. The man did not understand: he spoke only a strange tribal dialect. At length, an interpreter was found. The weeping Deputy turned out to be Muchaki Kesa, duly elected representative of 700,000 Indian citizens, and there...
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