In Jeyamohan’s novel, low-caste workers break blocks of ice for the British in horrifying conditions

As soon as Aiden rode into the front yard of his office, Duraisamy and Kannan came running. Duraisamy took the reins from Aiden while Kannan removed the saddlebag from the horse’s back. Aiden tossed the strap to Duraisamy, strode towards the office, his boots resounding against the stone ground, leapt up the stairs, and seeing Sepoy Samikkanu across from him, said: “Sam, ask Nar to see me at once.”

When Aiden entered his room and took the chair, Ammasi, the old untouchable seated on his haunches outside, began to pull the punkah. Even though there was a generous breeze gusting into the room through the windows, the punkah was a symbol of authority. The wicker chair made of densely woven palm-leaf spines creaked under Aiden’s weight as he settled in and closed his eyes for a moment.

Hearing the screech of the push door, Aiden opened his eyes. Narayanan came in and offered him a crisp salute. Aiden stared vacantly at him for a second or two. A turban-like blue hat. A leather belt sequinned with a string of bullet pockets ran across a bright-red linen coat. The coat flaps that parted at his midriff revealed a white cotton tunic and a...

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