It's sweet - it's the sort of thing that a camp like this craves. Light, easiness, it calls for home and easiness and a reprieve for just a moment when listening from the misery and death that awaits them all come morning. At home here in the smell of cooking meals, it's as it should be.

She sings beautifully, simply put.

Lakshmi finishes cutting the meat, sliced in rows, and then slice again until they're diced even chunks. Then she picks it up and tosses it into the pot to let it broil as per her instructions. A good place to leave it for now. She looks up, wiping a hands on her scarf again in a practised motion, ringing her fingers out. "Leave your work, come with me."

It's a brief gesture, as she waves over another of the older women that attend the work. They both work hard at least, that they're not exactly skirting responsibilities.