In the last three years her life has changed into a great river of despair. I so miss my bright, cheerful sister with her dark plaited hair tied with fiery colored ribbons. She used to be constantly on the move, spinning round, sitting down only to get straight back up again. She persecuted us with that explosive laugh of hers.

Today a few wisps of wavy hair straggle from under her hood and float limply on her pale cheeks. Her hair has lost its shine, a metaphor for her entire being, dulled and subdued.

I shake her by the arm.

“Why don’t you divorce him then!”

She stares at me, opening her beautiful slanting eyes wide. Tears stream over her face.

“He loved me, Little Sister…! He swore I would be the only woman in his life…! I don’t think he’s forgotten his promise. It’s stronger than him… Yesterday evening I followed him… he went to the theater with some loose woman, a depraved creature who let him fondle her in his theater box…”

I don’t know what to say to her. Our new customs have condemned polygamy, but this hasn’t stopped men being fickle, or released women from their suffering. My parents are very enlightened, they encouraged my sister to marry the man of her choice-a marriage of love that has caused pain and unhappiness.

People are glancing at us and turning to listen, but Moon Pearl is too convulsed by her tears to realize how ridiculous she looks. Luckily a rickshaw comes past; I stop it, put my sister on the seat and ask the man to take her home. She is so intoxicated by her pain that she doesn’t even try to resist.

I carry on buying the things Mother has asked me to find. The local farmers and hunters come here every Sunday, traveling overnight to stand shivering outside the city gates, waiting for them to be opened. I finish my shopping as the sun reaches its zenith; the snow has melted this morning and there is an icy slush underfoot as I head for a tearoom. They have set up a stove by the door, so I sit down beside the stall and order an almond and hazelnut tea. The boy serves me quickly: a thin stream of scorching water flows from the spout of a giant kettle decorated with dragons, and lands in a bowl a good meter away. Behind me someone starts to sing: