Young girls, eyes alight with mischief and dreams, press close—braids unraveling, bangles clinking, henna-darkened palms tracing secret messages of joy onto each other's skin.
—Hyderabad, India
Joy is a spice, shared in whispered jokes between sisters, in the warmth of smoothing jasmine into dark braids. It dances in the flick of a dupatta, and the deep belly laughter.
