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The daughter excitedly showed her mother a new phone. The mother nodded, seemingly distracted. She was waiting for someone—the kabadiwali, the scrap collector, who would come to buy their old items. Things that had broken, things they no longer needed, things destined for the waste heap. The doorbell rang. The daughter opened it, ready for a routine transaction with someone collecting junk. What she saw made her jaw drop. Standing at the door was an older woman—the kabadiwali