“Not the dawn that the poets wrote about — not the gentle dawn, the pink dawn, the dawn that arrived like a guest and waited to be invited in. This dawn was the Chitrakoot dawn, which arrived abruptly, the sun vaulting over the hills as if late for an appointment, the light going from absent to overwhelming in the space of ten minutes, the particular dawn that gave fugitives no grace period between the safety of dark and the exposure of light.”