The face has been haunting me for years. Honestly, even today, after sixteen years, if I close my eyes, I can vividly see her face—hollowed eyes and sagging skin—mocking me. I failed to help her. She was completely famished and lost in her ramshackle bamboo shack, surrounded by waist-deep water. Apart from a few old soot-blackened utensils, a bed with a soiled patchwork quilt, a torn mosquito net, and a few dirty clothes hanging from hooks around the hut, it was absolutely empty. I had never imagined that anyone could be so poor and helpless. Something snapped inside me at that moment and eventually led me to start Seneh, a Home for Destitute Old Women. This was in 2011. Today, there are forty-five women who have found shelter and succour at Seneh. These are their stories. Often taken for granted, the elderly are left vulnerable to loneliness and cognitive decline. The cruelty of fate at times becomes unbearable for them. Group Captain Barua writes with empathy about their life stories, their socio-economic background, and their sorry predicament.