The very next evening, the haveli glowed again. Chandni thought perhaps it was only for prayers, but when her grandmother urged her to dress, she realized it was something else.

She was given a maroon saree, the fabric soft and thin and her pallu drap like a rope on shoulder, plates draped low on her pussy and hips, with a blouse splitting out her boobs showing aerlo and nipples . The women had dressed her with laughter and teasing, but when she looked in the mirror, her face turned into a crimson. The neckline barely covered her, and every step made the silk cling like water.