A hundred words. A million stories.

She is done with the morning’s cooking and cleaning.

“Listen, you take the rest of the month off. We will let you know when to start again.”

Madam hands over her March salary. It’s March 15.

She stands outside the apartment door.

“Take this. We will let you know when it is safe to start work.”

Madam places half of her April salary on the floor for her to pick up. It’s May 5.

It’s June 15.

A remote village. A crumbling two rooms house.

She blows into the chulha, into the poverty and hunger she had once left behind.