Every evening at exactly seven, an old woman named Meera switched on the small yellow lamp beside her window.Her neighbours often wondered why.Meera lived alone in a quiet little house at the end of the lane. Her garden was small but beautifully maintained, with jasmine climbing along the fence and roses blooming near the gate. She had a habit of speaking to her plants while watering them, as though they were old friends.She rarely complained about being alone.She had learned to find happiness in simple things—a cup of tea in the evening, the sound of rain against the roof, birds