Roa's wife, Baranthi, took us saree shopping in the afternoon. It was great to have someone to guide us. I've tried to buy sarees before. I found out that the salesman like to grope the foreign ladies when they show them how to drape the long piece of cloth into a dress. Catrina learned that herself on this journey. At the jewelry store in Agra they had sarees along one wall. She had tried one on and regretted it.

Baranthi took us to a place where that wouldn't happen. They knew her there. She had just been buying lots of sarees for her nephews wedding. It is the

custom to give them as gifts to the families. The place was department store-like, different from the small shops and stalls to which we had become accustomed in India. It was more modern.

The salesman brought bolts and bolts of fabric that were sarees and spread them out on the large table we were sitting circled around. We took turns trying on various ones until we all found a color and fabric that made us happy. They were all so beautiful, so much to choose from. The men did not drape the cloth around us, but rather showed us how to drape ourselves to simulate the wrap for our reflection in the full-length mirror.

All the girls bought sarees for around fifty dollars each. Baranthi said that the same quality in Chicago would run us about one hundred and fifty. She had brought all twenty or so of hers from home to be cleaned in Hyderabad. I guess that you can buy sarees in the states, but it is difficult to find someone that does a decent job of cleaning them.

We all donned our new clothes that night. I was in my red saree and the others had theirs of blue and pink and black. The guys had each found a salwar kameez to wear in the four story modern mall with escalators. We went to the wedding reception in traditional Indian style.

Rao's nephew and his bride made a beautiful couple. They are part of the new generation, software engineers in a love marriage instead of the prearranged sort of their parents. They had met in college and their families had been agreeable.

We watched them cut the white wedding cake and have their pictures taken. We went through their greeting line and wished them well and congratulated them. The cake was placed in the buffet line along with the rice and dahl, curry and fresh veggies. Silverware was available, but most everyone was eating traditionally, with pinched fingertips of their right hands scooping up the rice mixed with the other food from their plates.

Rao introduced his family that he affectionately referred to all as brother. After awhile we had to ask just how many brothers there were. He then explained that they were cousin-brothers. That was nice. They seemed close, like a good tight family.

We enjoyed ourselves that night and appreciated the cultural window, the opportunity to be welcome guests at an Indian family celebration.