The three winning entries are here.
All I did
At a tribal gathering in Santrampur, Gujarat, Deepakbhai Vaghari watched me taking notes. Then he introduced himself and whispered: "Why not see how we really live?"
Made sense. A brisk walk through Santrampur chaos, and: "Look," said Deepakbhai, pointing past black ooze and casually flung garbage to several shacks amid thorny bushes. "Our homes."
We negotiated the miasma. At Deepakbhai's hut, I bent low to look in, then blurted: "So much tidier than my home!" Because it was. Said namaste to his shy wife and their daughter, playing in the dust.
And this was all I did, no more than I would with anyone. But how altogether foreign even this much was to Deepakbhai, I would soon learn.
Walking back, he stopped unexpectedly. "The feeling for the poor I see in your heart", he said, he paused, "don't ever lose it."
In my eyes, sudden tears.