" Udita lay silently on her bed with Kairavi clenched to her heart. She looked at the bowl full of honey kept on the side table next to her. Then she looked at the unopened box of ‘pedas’ in her husband’s hands. Finally, she looked at her beautiful angel, her moon baby with a little smile on her dimpled cheek, oblivious to how she silently lay amidst her own family of misanthropes. "

― Insha Juneja, , Imperfect Mortals : A Collection of Short Stories