Riya was just three days old and weighed about two pounds when her mother, Neelam, who was barely into her twenties, died in a government hospital in Mumbai. I first laid eyes on Riya when a group of little girls walked into the tuition hut with one of them holding her. Her spindly, spider-like limbs waved frantically, reaching for air. Her eyes were wide with what resembled fear, but she was probably just staring at the blades of the ceiling fan and into the children’s faces