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11 Priya looked at her mother, who was busy grinding the beady black
cardamom seeds to powder in a marble bowl. Her long, ebony hair was
pulled into a braid, but as she worked at crushing the seeds, wisps of hair
blew forward and back around her face, like a curtain near an open
window. She was not like the other mothers, the American mothers with
their short hair dyed and cut like movie stars and their wide, painted
smiles. She loved her mother’s soft, golden face and her thoughtful silence.
She didn’t want her mother to change; in fact, she much preferred
Mummy’s quiet reserve to the loud way some had of talking just to chase
out the quiet. But Priya had seen how the other children stared at her
mother when she came to school after the first day. Mummy had worn her
beautiful green salwar kurta, more casual than a sari but still elegant and
flowing. She had also worn a decorative bindi on her forehead, silver ankle
bracelets that jingled when she walked, and matching toe rings. Everyone
stared, and Priya’s face grew hot. She felt embarrassed, and guilty for feeling
embarrassed. She forced a smile and kissed her mother on the cheek, then
choked back tears the whole way home.

reserve Reserve is a quiet, sometimes shy, way of behaving.
casual Casual clothing is not dressy and is meant for everyday use.

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