You always liked ornaments.

You taught me how to strip the flame-red petals, and stick them on my nails. Do-it-yourself nail-extensions. I asked you: “Are you in such a hurry? To dress up at your own wedding?”

You laughed and blushed, said nothing.

Today, you wear socks in summer to hide the toe-ring that declares you a married woman. You wear long-sleeved kurtas to hide your bangles. Accidentally, in the bathroom, I saw that you tie the bangles together, so that nobody will know. “How are things with your husband?” is what I’ve learned not to ask.

Amita Basu is a graduate student of cognitive science. She lives in Bangalore, India. Her favourite writers are George Eliot and Charles Dickens. She enjoys running barefoot, and playing with India’s numerous street dogs. Her favourite superhero is Captain Planet.