enroute to new york on the jumbo,sheka had discreetly poened up the conversation about what she'd once they were in america. At the mention of skirts she had flared up so fiantly ha had to leave the seat. for prapulla,it was not convenience but convention that made the difference. she had always prized her saris, especially on the occasions when she wore her wedding sari with its blue, hand-spun silk and its silver border on which images of the gode had been embroidered.
she remembered the day she had shopped sari. it had been a week before her wedding. the entire family gone to the silk bazaar and spent the day looking for the perfect one. they had at last found it in the only hand-spun sari shop in the market.the merchant had explained that the weaver who had knitted the gods into its border had died soon after, taking his creft with him. thiswas his last sari, his parting gift to some luckly bride.
enroute to new york on the jumbo,sheka had discreetly poened up the conversation about what she'd once they were in america. At the mention of skirts she had flared up so fiantly ha had to leave the seat. for prapulla,it was not convenience but convention that made the difference. she had always prized her saris, especially on the occasions when she wore her wedding sari with its blue, hand-spun silk and its silver border on which images of the gode had been embroidered.
she remembered the day she had shopped sari. it had been a week before her wedding. the entire family gone to the silk bazaar and spent the day looking for the perfect one. they had at last found it in the only hand-spun sari shop in the market.the merchant had explained that the weaver who had knitted the gods into its border had died soon after, taking his creft with him. thiswas his last sari, his parting gift to some luckly bride.
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