Yeah Rite!

The doorbell rings.

A small mirror hangs on the wall, pimpled with bindis - all of different sizes and colours. She hurries toward it for a glimpse and panics at the surma that has begun to sneak out of place. She runs a delicate palm over the carefully arranged folds of her new Kanjivaram saree. A few moist buds of jasmine drop to sit pretty on the red granite floor as she scurries to the door, her anklets jingling in unison. With lissome grace, she opens the door and then follows him to the sofa.

Her eyes remain lowered as she hesitantly seats herself next to him, smiling to herself in sweet anticipation. She feels the warmth of his gaze... Will he just keep looking at her? Does he find her that beautiful? Is he about to gently adjust the strands of hair that dangle hopefully at her temples? Or is he going to say those sweet nothings she'd been dreaming of the whole of last week during the marriage proceedings? Will he... Did he just whisper something... She looks up to find him staring idly at the black and white TV set, "What's for dinner?"