In afternoon, Rahat got up from his chair to the sound of Roshni rummaging through the small kitchen corner, opening and closing the few containers they had.

"What are you looking for?" he asked, voice still thick with sleep.

"Food," she said without turning around. "Real food. Not cup noodles."

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "There's some rice. And I think there's a onion somewhere. And some veggies but don’t know if it’s got rotten or not."

She held up a withered onion and what looked like ...