We were at a dinner party; when I waved my hands to my young niece, my bangles frisked and gamboled over my arm, and she waved back, laughing delightedly at the patterns of pink and gold.
Later that night, the chun-chun of the bangles that was lost amid the noise of the party came clearly and rhythmically I pressed daddy's legs. Sometimes, the chamki in the bangles caught the night-light and sparkled.
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