The Haveli was thick with the scent of fresh marigold and wet earth. It was only two hours until the naming ceremony and the courtyard was a mess of half-finished garlands and silver platters. Vedita was kneeling on the floor, her peach cotton saree tucked at the waist, busy sorting the mango leaves for the torans.
Sarla Chachi sat on the swing, fanning herself.
Write a comment ...