||"We knew this dimpled little charmer as ""Mukta."" Several friends and myself noticed her choking back tears as she sat near the road between the air base and Khragupur one day We asked her about her problem and in fairly good English, she showed us the stub of a broken comb. She had fallen and smashed one of her most cherished items, her comb. She was wearing only a loin cloth. While in town that day, we decided to buy Mukta a comb -- which we did. On the way back to the base, we saw her again and presented her with the new comb. Then, her charm and personality began to glow. Her dimpled smile and older- than-her age conversation plus profuse thanks captured our hearts. She made a good photo model, too, as she climbed onto a nearby log and began to work with her long, black hair. "