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Tulunadu is not utopia. But it is uniquely interwoven. Here, caste and religion are not flat categories—they are textured, nuanced, negotiated daily. Here, Siri’s curse and blessing still live in memory. Here, Podimma’s medicine lingers in old cupboards. Here, a temple wears a Sultan’s gift. And here, a Muslim, a Christian, and a Bunt may not pray together—but they know they belong to the same town.