“Haven’t I taught myself to appear pleasant even when the situation doesn’t call for it? It’s a skill I mastered during a decade of tending to the whims of the ladies of Jaipur as I painted their hands with henna. Perhaps the women of Nimmi’s tribe are raised not to temper their true emotions?”

Lakshmi defines the traits necessary for social survival in Jaipur, where it’s rarely a good idea to speak one’s mind. As part of the servant class, the henna artist needed to develop tact to ingratiate herself with her clientele. Tact and silence are also valuable qualities when a person is collecting the secrets of the social elite. Unfortunately, Nimmi feels no such constraint to appear polite under trying circumstances.

“I made an independent living from my henna designs back in Jaipur—that it was hard work, but it made me realize I could rely on myself, that I was strong enough, clever enough. And how good it felt to know that.”

Lakshmi looks back to her early years when she had just escaped from an abusive marriage in a small village. Up to that point in her life, she was indoctrinated with the cultural belief of her own dependency. For women raised with such mental limitations, financial independence seems an unattainable dream. Lakshmi’s success isn’t simply economic; it’s a form of psychological liberation.

“It’s more than the color of my skin that will keep me from the ranks of the privileged. Long used to serving rather than being served, I affect a deference in my bearing that’s hard for me to shed.”

Malik was a street orphan until Lakshmi hired him. His early years and his service to the henna artist have both conditioned him to obey the whims of the wealthy. Now, at age 20, after receiving an upper-class Western education, Malik wryly observes that service has been conditioned into him. This quote is the companion to Lakshmi’s implied observation that society conditions women to remain dependent on men.