![]() ![]() She shows me her teeth-it’s meant to be a smile, but it looks more like a challenge. Her hair is braided in intricate coils, and gold hoops dangle from her ears. A fortune-teller sits on a bright blue carpet surrounded by cards. I feel a tug on my skirt and whirl around. The streets are thick with people-women balancing baskets of laundry atop their heads, men pulling heavy carts loaded with bags of rice and tea, children chasing each other between vendors. The meeting is supposed to happen near the fruit vendor on the other side of the market. I just took out the pins and let my hair tumble around my shoulders. ![]() “The boy will favor the hair down.” His sudden concern about the preferences of any boy-especially this boy-struck me as laughably ironic, but I didn’t argue. ![]() It’s hot today far too hot for my waist-length mane, but Gopal took one look at my hair this morning coiled in a tight knot at the back of my skull and groaned. I lift my hair off the back of my neck and yearn for a breeze that fails to materialize. It’s a mantra I’m hoping will loosen the knot of dread that has been twisting in my stomach all afternoon. ![]() At least that’s what I tell myself over and over as I wend my way through the marketplace, past the vendors selling spiced meats and bright fabric, incense and rare birds. ![]()
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