In the heart of a dirty slum, under the dim light of a roadside tea stall, an old Indian aristocratic Bengali woman, her perfect curvy figure and enormous saggy hanging boobs glistening with sweat, sat among a group of old men. Her belly was little plump, her black nipples visible beneath her oily, tanned skin. With a drunken seductive look, she spread her legs, shamelessly rubbing herself while the village men watched, their eyes glued to the spectacle. It was a night of passion and decadence in this dark corner, illuminated only by the flickering neon lights of Glide Fashion across the slum market.