Dia Hadid

The women belong to a group at the bottom of South Asia's caste hierarchy.

They're known as Parayar, from where the English gets the word pariah.

Abirami and her girlfriends walk us through their homes, each a tiny room in a row of tiny rooms down a tight alleyway.

They're painted bright blues and purples.

Where do people sleep?

The mats are rolled in one corner, a gas burner for cooking in the other.

Abhirami's husband polishes spoons in a steel mill for about a dollar a day.

She says he drinks away his wages.

They have two daughters, but they live with Abhirami's sister-in-law.

She works in a toy workshop assembling plastic guns for about $3 a day.

For rent.

Abhirami first heard about selling eggs from her neighbour while standing in line for her turn at the water pump.

Tell me where I can go and do it.

She sniffs.

He doesn't understand the difference between thick and thin.

Abirami says her neighbour told her, forget about your damn husband, he's not paying the rent.

You'll get 25,000 rupees, about $300, more than what you'd make in three months at the plastic gun factory.

Her neighbour knew about selling eggs because she had been in and out of hospitals herself.

To make ends meet, she used to sell her blood.

She once sold her eggs when she was younger.