Rakti sat on the bed of her two room dingy and moist house, folding up a betel leaf, when she heard the incessant knocking on the door. "Who might this be? What do you think, Mithi," she wondered.

The white and orange feline stared at the plump old woman and went back to licking her belly. Rakti Amma shook her head and smiled lovingly. She grunted as her worn out knees complained and got off the bed, placed the betel leaf inside her mouth, and hobbled towards the door.

"Who is it," she called out.

"Amma, open the door!"

It was a woman's voice, a woman Rakti did not recognise. She glanced at the crooked wall clock. Half past eight. Rakti had grown accustomed to living alone. Her daughter was married off to a shopkeeper in another town and it was unlikely that she would send some unknown woman instead of calling her mother. And then an ugly thought entered her head. Was Parvathy alright? Did she run into trouble? Rakti...