I think he was relieved that it was not for me. Just like Mummy, he was probably wondering, With such dark skin, what color would look good on her? It would be easy to find a sari for Mohini. Everyone thought so. Mohini’s sandalwood-colored skin was such a perfect shade that all colors looked good on her.

One after another, the man began to spread saris on the counter. They were beautiful: a bloodred chiffon with heavy gold-thread embroidery; an ink-blue, handwoven silk with silver sequins; and a parrot-green organza with a wide gold-and-silver border.

“I want something simpler,” Mohini said.

“For a wedding and a reception, this is the fashion; this is what all the brides are wearing,” he said, spreading one of the saris on his shoulder.

“That sari looks good on you,” I said to the salesman.

“Choop ker,” Mummy said.

“Sorry, I meant the lavender color.”

“Don’t be sorry. This is an everyday thing for me. I’d rather wear lavender over red any day—look,” he said, folding the red sari over a shoulder while holding up the lavender one. “Isn’t this beadwork beautiful? It’ll look lovely with gold jewelry.”

Mohini shook her head. “These are too heavy.”

“If this is what everyone is wearing these days then you’d better buy the same things. Otherwise, it’ll look inappropriate,” Mummy said.

I knew that Mummy was worried people might think that she and Pappa hadn’t spent enough money on Mohini’s sari.

“Anoop said that very heavy saris are of no use in America. If it’s a simple one then I can wear it on other occasions, too.”

Anoop’s name was enough for Mummy to be quiet, but not for the salesman. He said, “You only get married once. Buy the best for the reception.” He opened up a peacock-blue sari and draped it over his shoulder for us to see. “Just this morning a girl came and bought the same piece in purple. She’s going to New Jersey. Are you going to New Jersey or New York?”

“Illinois,” Mohini said.

He was mumbling “Illinois, Illinois,” when I said, “Please, Uncle, show us a few simple ones.”

I’d asked him so politely and sweetly that he couldn’t refuse. He swept all the opened saris down the counter and took out a pile of silk chiffon saris. A young assistant began folding all the heavy saris that had piled up.

The salesman opened one sari after the other. The fabrics were soft and the colors vivid, but the gold work was done sparingly. “I like these,” Mohini said. “Elegant yet simple.”