We were passing through the inner ways of Jamalpur.
Mounds of earth, cemented firmly into the ground,... a hurried cemetery, broke out of the pathway leading to her perch.
Sugra biwi sat in a vignette of light.
Nadira walked to the cupboard and brought out a tin box full of coloured photographs from the almirah and put them on the floor in front of me. Sugra biwi giggled, pointing at the string of pearls the 'photography walla' had put on her hair.
A brood of children in the family crowded in at the doorway, blocking my source of light.
Sugra biwi laughed shyly, working her fingers on her prayer beads in starts, as they giggled at her.
She glanced at me furtively as the girls undid my hair, and layered it out evenly over my shoulders. And we looked at each other for a moment.
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