“No. The heat feels like a thousand ants are biting me,” I complained. “I wish we could go swimming.”

“Can’t wait until Monday?”

I glared at Mohini. She put her finger on her lips and motioned toward Mummy, who was reading the matrimonial page of the Janmabhoomi Pravasi.

That afternoon Mummy’s cousin Kirti Auntie visited us. After climbing up three flights of stairs, she was breathing wild and fast. Taking off her sandals and wiping the sweat beads on her forehead with a handkerchief, she huffed, “One down and two more to go.”

“No, no, you made all three flights. Congratulations!” I said.

“Jeeta!” Mummy gave me a stern look as she folded the matrimonial pages, but I detected a tiny smile at the corner of her lips.

Kirti Auntie ignored me and asked Mummy, “Am I telling the truth or not?”

“You are. But the first daughter was the toughest, and the second is going to be the easiest, so don’t worry,” Mummy answered quickly. Then she let out her smile.

“Yes, yes. The second will be a snap.”

I wondered how the third one was going to be. I guess Mummy didn’t want to worry about my wedding until she absolutely had to, and for now, Kirti Auntie was in the mood to talk only about Nimita’s wedding. For the next ten minutes, Kirti Auntie went on piling Mummy with praises. “Nimita was dazzling, her wedding sari and gold jewelry were exquisite, the garlands of roses were full of fragrance and the deepest shade of red, the smiles on the bride and groom’s faces were those of the happiest couple; the work you’d put in was rewarded generously.”

Puffed up with praise, Mummy’s face glowed.

Kirti Auntie leaned over to Mummy and asked in a hushed tone, “Any good prospects for Mohini?”

“Yes, there are, but only a few are promising. One is the nephew of Mr. Maganlal Chaganlal.”

“The Maganlal Chaganlal? The one who owns the tire business?”

“Yes, the very same one.”

“I understand he doesn’t have any family, so the factory will go to the nephew anyway.”

“I don’t think we’re talking just because of the factory. . . .” Mummy said, faltering.

“No, no, of course not. I say, a hundred talks amount to one talk that matters, and that is, our daughters have to eat. Am I telling the truth or not? And we might as well find them rich men, especially for the pretty ones.”

I knew by “pretty ones” Kirti Auntie meant Mohini as well as her own daughter, Jayshree.