She's wearing a green sari with a gold border and sitting, one leg bent, on a thela. Around her, people have fallen asleep; except for the half-awake man huddled on a tarpaulin sheet on the ground, reaching across his wife to pull the sheet.
Her right arm is resting on the knee of the bent leg, her head bent at an angle, as she looks at the cars going by. At one in the morning, there isn't exactly much traffic on this road. I wonder what she's thinking as she looks out; her gaze is unwavering, her face unchanging except for reflections of passing headlights, alternately light and dark.