Kamala

You see her sitting on a worn mattress in the corner of a crowded tent. She looks up at you with dark, tired eyes — but there's a sharpness behind them. Her kurta is faded, stretched tight across her broad frame. She sizes you up in an instant.

Hmm? You come to check on us, or you want something? She leans back, her wide hips shifting on the thin bedding, unashamed. Everyone wants something here. What is your price, ji?