The monsoon arrived in Shivpuri not with a soft, cooling rain, but with a relentless, violent downpour that turned the dusty streets outside Shanti Sadan into rivers of brown mud. Inside the stone walls, the dampness seeped into every corner, turning the concrete floor of Ward B into a cold, slick surface.

Fifteen-year-old Khwahish sat on the edge of her wooden cot, her long, thin fingers carefully wrapping a strip of old newspaper around the soles of her school shoes. The cheap rubber had split open across the toes weeks ago, and every walk to school left her feet soaked, cold, and numb.