Tracy Kitching is sitting in a Rajasthani den amid swathes of jewel bright slippery silks and gilded brocades. 'These are 100-year-old wedding saris,' declares the salesman as he sends yet another one billowing towards her. Tracy raises her eyebrows at me. 'They're old, but not more than 40 or 50 years. You take the patter with a pinch of salt.
