Everyday she came and stood there on the side of the road. I saw her from my fifth floor window.

Early in the morning, when few people woke up, she emerged with a basket in her hands full with red flowers through which popping up a sindur clad image of a deity.

Not every passers-by, but one or two, on their way looked at her and gave her few bucks.

She is a small town woman living on her god's term.