Vicky and I were at Anokhi one day last week, browsing as I always do because I can’t afford the stuff there. Yet another time I was clutching onto yet another pretty spaghetti top trying to remind myself why I oughtn’t buy it and this one time I was failing, my other hand was reaching for the wallet, when another hand came shoving away mine, pulling the top next to the one I was holding when I refused to let go of the one I had.
And a loud female voice said in Hindi, to another equally loud-voiced female, “I think I’ll take this one. Of course, I can only wear it at home at night, I couldn’t possibly face Uncleji (her father-in-law) in it.”
And I quietly released my hold, turned quickly and rushed Vicky and myself out of the shop so that we could laugh in peace and decency outside.
So much for cool clothes.