fills the haveli dancing through the courtyard. Piercing through the nauseating stillness of the sullen chandeliers.
The prostitutes and the brides shared the haveli likewise. The blood of the former mingling with the sweet smell of henna that adorned the dainty palms of the brides.
The nawabs but always sat still crushing to oblivion both the ghungroos of the prostitutes and the henna of the brides.
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