Tuesday night I went to a women’s new moon celebration. I came almost straight from work but arrived very late. I did take time to put on a saffron shalwar kameez, with turquoise and purple embroidery at the hem of the bouffant pants, a sheer purple and silver skirt, and a belt of silver jingles. I knew I would arrive near the closing ceremony, I tell one woman, but I came anyway, just so I could wear my costume.
The room was lit with candles, the altar laid with a maroon sari, flecked with gold. A small tortoise shell has a place of honor. Women dance with scarves. I am sorry to have missed the chanting.
Leaving, the wind catches and brings back to me the scent of my perfume, Casimir. I feel a fine rain upon my face.