Kerala
With jet black hair that defies her age slicked back in a tight bun, the woman wrapped in a midnight blue sari, caked in dirt smacks her lips over her gums. Pointing curiously to the beedi I’m holding, she takes it in her skeletal hands and carefully inspects it, pulling it close to her piercing black eyes.
As the familiarity of the Indian cigarette slowly sinks in, the gentle wrinkles that …
