Gulab came out first after her bath with damp hair clinging softly to the sides of her face and a quiet, freshly washed innocence in her eyes, the kind that made even the simplest moment feel touched by something pure and tender.

She had worn only her spare saree so that the one meant for the day would remain dry and untouched, and there was something almost childlike in the care with which she held the edge of it, as though even fabric could sense the importance of the occasion.