She squats by the sluggish cerise tinged river
Under a heavily laden tree with debauched fruit
Kamakshi knew she did not quite fit the profile of a person who would frequent such a space. She was a mousy looking middle-aged woman, slightly overweight, with scraggly salt and pepper hair scrunched into an untidy bun. On her nose perched a pair of oval glasses, which were at least five years old, and on the verge of falling apart.