Ravi ShankarLalitpur, Nepal Lying unconscious on the stone floor, the 14-year-old boy bled profusely from a huge slash across his chest. Ram laughed, the sound resembling the screeching gears of a heavily loaded truck groaning slowly uphill. I frantically tried to staunch the flow of blood with towels and clothes—Ram’s maniacal laughter an incongruous accompaniment—as…