The clinking of glass bangles shatters the silence as I look up to find a pensive look on Neelima Baig’s face. Her eyes are hazy and devoid of color, but penetrating still. Her one-room house smells of Fevicol and cough syrup.
“I can’t see properly, the blast furnace has burned the tissues.”Neelima, an 80-year-old bangle maker
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