Smita carries an exhausted Lalita, who has fallen asleep in her arms. She pushes her way roughly through the crowd in search of somewhere to sit. All over the station, on every platform, people are getting ready to spend the night. They settle in, lie down and fall asleep – if they are lucky. Smita sits on the ground in a corner, near a woman dressed in white, flanked by two young children. Lalita has woken up now. She is hungry. Smita takes out their water bottle. There is only a little left in the bottom, and nothing else for tonight. Lalita begins to cry.