NOBODY LIGHTS A CANDLE Anjali Deshpande 44 Pushpa was sweeping the place early in the morning. She did it sometimes on holidays, swept every corner clean. Took down the pants and shirts hanging from brackets behind the doors, wiped the doors clean, demolished the houses of insects built in crevices, moving all the chairs, stools, and tables and making the room capable of collecting a fresh film of dust. She pulled out the trunk form under the bed. “Why don’t you return it?” she asked as she swept its dusty top with her broom. He should return it. The woman