Her lips, always dry and chapped, were thin like wafers and roasted dark brown from smoking. She was addicted to bidi. Her right arm was festooned with tattoos, now disappearing with time, sweat and age. Her wrists were always covered in heavy silver bangles – gone black with oxidation. She always wore black. Her fingers were slender and delicate, just bones wrapped in paper-thin skin. And what magic they weaved when they got down to making pickles!