“I told him that I like folk dancing. He said what he meant by dance was the real classical dance, not moving in circles clapping your hands or banging your two sticks with your partner’s.”

“What did you say to that?”

“What could I? I kept quiet.”

“I would’ve told him, ‘Guruji, my great teacher, if you can play classical music, I can tie brass bells on my ankles and dazzle you with my pirouettes and footwork of the kathak dance.’”

“I wish I could say those things,” Mohini said.

“Don’t wish. Just say them.”

“I would if my brain worked as fast as yours. By the time I think of things to say, it is too late.”

“My tongue is quicker than my brain. Sometimes it misfires and lands me on a pile of trouble. I wish I could just switch it off.”

We heard the bathroom door opening. Mohini sat up straight and whispered, “I hope this circus ends soon.”

“I thought getting you married would be the easiest of all. I suppose the prettier you are the fussier you are,” Mummy said, when she found out that Mohini didn’t want to marry Sunand.

Mohini shrugged.

“You must decide from the ones you meet, because no new ones are going to be born for you!”

I should’ve kept quiet but couldn’t. “Mummy, this isn’t like buying a sari that you can pick out from a stack. It’s a question of a lifetime; let Mohini take her time.”

“Don’t be her lawyer. I want to know why she didn’t like him.”

“She just didn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m like Narad Muni. I know the past, present, and future.” Narad Muni was a sage in mythological stories. He played his tambura, a one-string instrument, traveled back and forth in time all across the universe, and meddled in everyone’s business.

“Then it’s time for you to visit some other planet and stir up things there.”

“Let me—”

“I tell you, Jeeta, your tongue is too sharp and your color is too dark, so for your sake, when your time comes, say yes to the first man that says yes to you. Don’t be fussy, and don’t make your engagement a minute longer than it needs to be.” Mummy’s voice was loud and stiff, as if all the humor had drained out of it.

Mohini looked at me and then at Mummy. “I’ll try to decide quickly. I will.”