They lay on top of Mrs. Ambetkar’s satin bijoux box. They had caught my eye ever since I’d been to her room. Little jhumkis at the end with a small hook to place in my earlobe. They were studded with white coloured stones that glinted in both sunlight and moonlight. No one had ever seen a prettier pair. All the aunties during those kitty parties used to remark at them and secretly envy Mrs. Ambetkar when she wore them. Stunning they were, I tell you.
I never dared to touch them though. They seemed too pretty for my dark fingers. But I eyed them every time I was in her room (which was pretty often since I was close to her) and I would spend summer afternoons dreaming about wearing them, until Rishabh would come and slap me out of my reverie.
Summer, monsoon, winter: the months passed by but my longing for those earrings didn’t. In fact, it grew with each milestone in my life. The better I performed in academics, the more entitled I felt to wear them. Extra-curricular achievements were an added bonus. All of these were the rungs of the ladder I was climbing steadily to reach those beautiful earrings. So beautiful they were, I tell you.
I dreamed on and on, to wear one of mumma’s blue saris and those beautiful earrings with a kutti (small) red bindi. How pretty I would look! All my classmates eyed me with indifference when I told them of my dreams. They mocked and teased me. It hurt. I used to cry under the banyan tree behind the Chemistry lab. Even there they would find me and pull my leg. But what did they know of those pretty silver earrings? They were priceless. They probably thought it was a petty dream. I assured myself that it was not. How could it be? Especially when every inch of my heart craved for those silver drops? It will probably lead me to greater heights, I thought. I did not know why I loved them so much. I wondered about it too.
Have you ever had that feeling of wanting a bar of chocolate badly in the middle of the night? So bad that you just HAVE to have it? That horrible need inside you? Well, I got it that night. I just needed those earrings. Mumma and I slept downstairs in Mrs. Ambetkar’s house and luckily that day she had gone out of station. (That’s what I heard mumma telling the dhobi – I don’t even know where out-of-station is though.) I fervently hoped it was far enough so that I could get my hands on the bijoux box.
1:59 a.m. – mumma was snoring away. Rishabh was fast asleep in his AC room. It seemed as though Mr. Opportunity had come knocking right at my door!
It took me hardly a few minutes to identify that bijoux box.
I stood in front of the mirror and wore them. It was such a heady moment! They hung daintily from my lobes. I saw a small lipstick next to the hand mirror. I immediately whipped it out, lined my lips and pouted. How beautiful I felt!This was where I definitely belonged.
I sneaked back to my room and curled up on my reed mat. I would sleep as a thing of beauty tonight!
“KRISHNAAA!”
Mumma’s voice pierced through my sleep and I woke up startled. She was looking over me with a broom and next to her was Mrs. Ambetkar glaring at my face. When I looked closer, I realized she wasn’t glaring; she looked rather perplexed.
“Murali! What are you wearing? What is on your lips? Hey Ram! What has become of my son!?” Mumma had lost it.
Mrs. Ambetkar took her in her arms and led her out of my room. They had a long conversation while I peeked from behind the door. Mumma was sobbing uncontrollably and Mrs. Ambetkar was reasoning with her. Rishabh stayed away from me too. It was all so very annoying. I wasn’t planning to steal the earrings you know. I had just borrowed them. But no one was listening to me. I went up to Mrs. Ambetkar, apologized and gave the pair back. She winced and took them back. She didn’t look like she would forgive me very soon though.
In the end, it all turned out quite bad you know. I would never be able to forgive myself either. Mumma was not allowed to clean and cook for Mrs. Ambetkar anymore. I was taken to all the holy temples in the district to remove the evil thoughts from my head. I had to start working and abandon my studies as none of those kitty party aunties would take mumma in. They would all look at me, giggle, point and call me ‘the boy with the silver earrings’.
Well, they wouldn’t understand would they? Those pretty silver earrings. Stunning they were; in moonlight and in sunlight.
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Illustration by Zainab Varawalla
