corrected her immediately. “She looks to me just like a queen.”
Leila felt sweat dampen the sleeves of her new silk blouse, and wished she didn’t have to dress so early. She perched on the couch in the sitting room, a painting in red and gold that the guests came to view and comment upon as if she were not present.
She tried to distract herself by reciting Eliot, The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne , but was too nervous to recollect the lines.
Indy stood beside her, trying to look happy on this, their last day together as sisters without husbands.
“She looks virry calm, don’t you think?” Leila didn’t know many of the faces peering into hers. Amma seemed to have invited anyone they had ever known.
“Look, she’s even wearing golden slippers!” a little girl exclaimed, her voice full of wonder.
“So lucky that it is not raining.”
“The white flowers look nice against her hair, no?” The woman who said that was fussing with the flowers in her own daughter’s hair. Leila recognized the dull slant to the girl’s body and felt the determination in the mother’s hands. How many times had Amma dressed her and taken her to weddings so people could see her? This poor girl, too, stood quietly as her mother rearranged her in the hope of attracting the eye of some prospective groom or mother-in-law. Leila wished she could whisper confidence and confidences in the girl’s ear, tell her, “It will all work out. Look at me.”
The men didn’t come inside the house. They paced outside, near the bright orange shamiana, filling the air with smoke and discussions of promotions and new hires.
“I heard some naughty, naughty children say they are going to hide the groom’s shoes,” a woman’s voice came from behind Leila.
Lelia wondered if Kila was one of the naughty ones. Kila had been excited at the prospect of this pre-wedding game. Someone—always a child—on the bride’s side would hide the shoes that the groom took off before entering the shamiana. Harmless fun, it was meant to bring the two families together. It was also a quest for money; the groom’s shoes remained hidden till a barter was agreed upon. She hoped Suneel would recompense Kila with at least a hundred rupees. It was cheap for him, just over three dollars. If she had a chance she’d tell Kila to ask Suneel for a mate, thus doubling the money.
Smita rushed in with the news that Suneel had arrived. He was in the marriage mandapam, directly in front of the priest, with Ashok seated behind to help.
Leila heard only that Suneel was outside. The rest of the words, the people heating the room with their curiosity, were lost to her. He had come! The wedding was actually going to take place. Suddenly she felt frail and faint, and didn’t think her legs would carry her into the garden where he sat waiting.
But when that long walk began, she had the support of her two aunties, and a druglike composure that gave her an even gait. She thought of Rajput queens who were drugged for the walk to their husband’s funeral bier. Leila had seen artists’ renderings of the tragic events. The queen sitting on a high pile of wood, her husband’s head on her lap, surrounded by flames that burned the dead body and turned the living one into a satee, a virtuous woman. A handprint on the palace wall, a lacy signature made by henna, was all that remained of these poor queens.
She shook these unlucky thoughts from her head. She had to think happy thoughts or no thoughts at all. When she entered the shamiana, a hush descended on the crowd.
ASHOK HAD INSISTED ON ACCOMPANYING NEEL , who didn’t know how he could refuse without being rude. Tattappa had wanted to be the one escorting Neel, but he was still weak and in bed.
All the way in the car, Ashok fussed. Every time Neel shifted, Ashok gave a warning “Hey, hey!” Just to shut him up, Neel tried to keep still. He had never been comfortable about exposing his torso and now that feeling
Leila felt sweat dampen the sleeves of her new silk blouse, and wished she didn’t have to dress so early. She perched on the couch in the sitting room, a painting in red and gold that the guests came to view and comment upon as if she were not present.
She tried to distract herself by reciting Eliot, The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne , but was too nervous to recollect the lines.
Indy stood beside her, trying to look happy on this, their last day together as sisters without husbands.
“She looks virry calm, don’t you think?” Leila didn’t know many of the faces peering into hers. Amma seemed to have invited anyone they had ever known.
“Look, she’s even wearing golden slippers!” a little girl exclaimed, her voice full of wonder.
“So lucky that it is not raining.”
“The white flowers look nice against her hair, no?” The woman who said that was fussing with the flowers in her own daughter’s hair. Leila recognized the dull slant to the girl’s body and felt the determination in the mother’s hands. How many times had Amma dressed her and taken her to weddings so people could see her? This poor girl, too, stood quietly as her mother rearranged her in the hope of attracting the eye of some prospective groom or mother-in-law. Leila wished she could whisper confidence and confidences in the girl’s ear, tell her, “It will all work out. Look at me.”
The men didn’t come inside the house. They paced outside, near the bright orange shamiana, filling the air with smoke and discussions of promotions and new hires.
“I heard some naughty, naughty children say they are going to hide the groom’s shoes,” a woman’s voice came from behind Leila.
Lelia wondered if Kila was one of the naughty ones. Kila had been excited at the prospect of this pre-wedding game. Someone—always a child—on the bride’s side would hide the shoes that the groom took off before entering the shamiana. Harmless fun, it was meant to bring the two families together. It was also a quest for money; the groom’s shoes remained hidden till a barter was agreed upon. She hoped Suneel would recompense Kila with at least a hundred rupees. It was cheap for him, just over three dollars. If she had a chance she’d tell Kila to ask Suneel for a mate, thus doubling the money.
Smita rushed in with the news that Suneel had arrived. He was in the marriage mandapam, directly in front of the priest, with Ashok seated behind to help.
Leila heard only that Suneel was outside. The rest of the words, the people heating the room with their curiosity, were lost to her. He had come! The wedding was actually going to take place. Suddenly she felt frail and faint, and didn’t think her legs would carry her into the garden where he sat waiting.
But when that long walk began, she had the support of her two aunties, and a druglike composure that gave her an even gait. She thought of Rajput queens who were drugged for the walk to their husband’s funeral bier. Leila had seen artists’ renderings of the tragic events. The queen sitting on a high pile of wood, her husband’s head on her lap, surrounded by flames that burned the dead body and turned the living one into a satee, a virtuous woman. A handprint on the palace wall, a lacy signature made by henna, was all that remained of these poor queens.
She shook these unlucky thoughts from her head. She had to think happy thoughts or no thoughts at all. When she entered the shamiana, a hush descended on the crowd.
ASHOK HAD INSISTED ON ACCOMPANYING NEEL , who didn’t know how he could refuse without being rude. Tattappa had wanted to be the one escorting Neel, but he was still weak and in bed.
All the way in the car, Ashok fussed. Every time Neel shifted, Ashok gave a warning “Hey, hey!” Just to shut him up, Neel tried to keep still. He had never been comfortable about exposing his torso and now that feeling
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