The Tale of a
Talisman!
Grandmother was very
upset the day she lost her little locket. It was an exquisite talisman that had
a purple garnet set within an intricate trellis, worked in gold. She wore it on
a gold chain, around her neck.
Most houses, in the
1930’s, in Cannanore, had a well. Grandfather had built a bathroom against one
side of the well. A window in the bathroom opened out, over the well, making it
convenient to draw water from it, to bathe in.
Grandmother was
leaning out of the window when her chain came undone and the locket fell into
the well. She lamented her loss for days, but the situation seemed impossible
to amend.
A year later,
Grandfather stood supervising the annual dredging and cleaning of the well. He
noticed that the workers had stopped to gather around a shiny object that had
surfaced. It was the locket! Grandmother’s joy knew no bounds and she
immediately appeased the Gods, despite Grandfather’s atheistic, blatant, proclamations.
Years passed.
Grandmother parted with her beloved locket when Mother was leaving home on her
betrothal. Mother in turn wore it for several years before passing it on to me,
on my wedding day.
I loved this little
piece of jewellery and wore it around my neck on a delicate gold chain. But
alas, the talisman possessed a wayward soul! It would often struggle free of my
chain and fall to the ground. Each time my heart sank, and I would conduct a
frantic search before finding and returning it to captivity, around my neck.
The one time that I
almost gave it up for lost was in January 1978. My son Siddhartha was seven
months old, and I had my hands full looking after the baby and completing all
the household chores. With no washing machine or other modern conveniences,
life was indeed difficult.
The husband was away
on field posting somewhere up in the mountains of Jammu and Kashmir. Letters
took days on end to reach and telephone calls were unheard of. I was given a bunch
of post-dated cheques to en-cash each month to meet my expenses.
It was the 5th
of January and I needed money, so carrying a duffel bag of baby-basics and
other bank books on one shoulder, I picked up little Sid and began my monthly
pilgrimage to the State Bank of India, Parliament Street, New Delhi. I walked
quickly to the bus stop. I took a bus to Shivaji Stadium, after which it was a
long walk to the bank.
Every step seemed to
increase the weight on my arm. The queue at the bank was long, and it took over
an hour to accomplish this simple mission. The way back to the bus depot seemed
longer, warmer. Just as I was shifting Sid from one arm to the other, I noticed
the chain lying open around my neck. The locket was gone! I stood shock still
for a moment, my mind racing. I would
have to go back to look for it!
This time, I was
almost running to reach the bank before it closed for the day. As I walked, my
eyes swept the footpath, in search of the locket. Sid chuckled and laughed at
the unusual sport he was enjoying. On arriving at the bank, I retraced my steps
over the area I had traversed earlier. The locket was nowhere to be seen. The
gates of the bank, were the typical shutters of the day, that ran sideways on
rails. As I carefully stepped over the rails, balancing baby Sid, forlorn,
disappointed - there it was!
The talisman lay
between the narrow rails, the stone blinking up at me. I could barely believe
my eyes. I picked it up and carefully returned it to its place, pressing the
hook down tightly to prevent another getaway.
Finally, one day in
1984, while attending the Unit’s Battle Honor day in Jammu, I left my talisman
at home along with other precious jewelry. A thief climbed in through an open
window and alas, all my jewelry was stolen! The tiny Talisman, I had decided not to wear that day, was irrevocably
lost! To this day a picture of the locket remains fresh in my mind. Perhaps, I
just might find it some day?
You lose some and
you win some!
C’est la vie, folks!
