1. Chowringhee Charms
 

It all started with the visits to the auction house. As little children of nine, the twins, Kismet and Kahani, would wander around the musty, dusty, cobwebby lure of Chowringhee Charms, flicking the dust of history off the intriguing items on display. Enamelled door knobs, coloured glass figurines, incomplete bone China tea and dinner sets in the most delicate designs with rich gold dragons and floral fantasies, ancient watches and clocks in an array of shapes and sizes. Each visit was an escapade into an enchanted and magical long lost era, so different from and so much more absorbing than the clinical perfection of steel furniture and shiny tiles of their modern home. Each item had a story to tell and the twins would spend hours spinning tales around them and enacting them.

It was a Sunday morning treat they impatiently waited for and Mr. Baltiwala would welcome them with his crinkly eyes and wide, toothless smile. In fact, he himself was a curiosity draw for the children. “So wha. . .at do I have for you this morn. . . .ing, le. . .t me. . .eee see. . .,” he would tease in his typical slow and tantalising style and the young visitors would wait with baited breath.

“He has finally found the missing twirl of the Chinese warrior’s moustache,” suggested Kismet, with hope shining bright on his excited face.

“I think he has located the secret key to the musical tea set,” claimed Kahani, who true to her name was always imagining dramatic finales.

Mr. Baltiwala had, in fact, found a wee key but it was for the entrance door to a replica of an ancient Scottish castle, of a size into which the children could enter. Stark and forlorn to look at, the castle had slits for windows, arched tall doors, and even a steep winding staircase to a room on the first floor. It occupied a large part of the corner of the shop and since the building was very old with high ceilings, the double storied castle fitted in.

Mr. Baltiwala explained that it was a remnant of the Raj. A senior British officer had imported it to amuse his wife and children and add a touch of home in a far-off land. Once they left for their homeland a few years after India’s independence, carrying the ‘touch’ seemed unnecessary. And, so, it had found its fate in the care of Mr. Baltiwala who had procured it many years ago, for a princely sum of Rs 850. The twins were intrigued. The very thought of a historical home, within their own 21st-century glass and tile room, was enough to get their little hearts pounding. Eagerly taking the key, they opened the creaking door and stepped into history. There was a little parlour with a mini hat and umbrella stand made of solid wood and a chest of drawers. N ext to it was a small living room with chairs, a table, and a crockery stand. The stairs led into a bedroom with a bed, a chair, and a mirror on the wall.

Kahani, unable to resist the temptation, curled up in the small bed. She imagined herself as the princess in the castle with maids in waiting, pandering to her every wish. Their parents had read stories to them of kings and knights and they had also watched animated movies of life in the bygone era. In their summer holidays they had visited Edinburgh and taken tours of the grand castles. Their father was a well-known feature writer for newspapers and he often wrote travelogues as well while their mother worked for a publishing house of school textbooks.

A castle of one’s own was a living fantasy. “I also want to lie on the bed,” said Kismet who, though the same age, was indulgent towards his twin. “Get up and let me feel like a prince at least if not a king,” he added.

“We’ll take turns lying on it,” suggested Kahani.

“Oh, you are talking as if we own it. We have to come to the shop every Sunday then,” said Kismet.

“And, what if someone else buys it?” said the sage Kahani. This put the twins in a sombre mood. True. How could they experience the thrill of a royal life if the castle was not there?

“Do you think this could be our joint birthday gift?” suggested Kismet, with a hint of trepidation and hope.

“We have to be very good. Only then will Baba and Ma consider this idea,” said Kahani. And, so they chitchatted as they played out their flights of fancy.

They could hear Mr. Baltiwala pottering around outside, entertaining other customers when Kahani suddenly clutched on to Kismet’s hand. She held on to his wrist with all her miniature might and whispered, “Did you hear that?” Looking at her ashen visage he instinctively held on to his sister, giving her comfort and support. Becoming completely silent, both strained their little ears to listen. It was definitely there, the sound of someone breathing, rather heavily, and it was very close to them. But they couldn’t see anything or anyone. Their bodies stiffened as they held on to each other, terrified and also intensely curious. “Who or what do you think it is?” whispered Kismet. “Let’s ask,” braved the more daring Kahani. “Don’t you think we should quietly go out and forget that this happened and not tell anyone? What if we get trapped here?” ventured Kismet. “And never know the answer to our question! Of course, not. I definitely want to know what this is all about,” concluded Kahani with a determined tone, putting a firm stop to all speculation.

Knowing that she had her brother with her, Kahani mustered up all the courage she could and asked, “Who are you? What do you want?” A hundred other questions were storming through her head but she controlled herself. Did the ‘sound’ not understand English? Should the language have been Hindi or Bengali? Well, the ‘breath’ better understand her, Kahani thought to herself and waited, impatiently. No progress. What could they do? Just as she was reframing the questions in Hindi, Kismet pointed to the mirror with trembling fingers. Through a cloudy, smoky haze appeared a pair of eyes, surprisingly sharp and alert. It gradually focused on the twins. Their fingers clung and an otherwise brave Kahani was struck speechless. Gradually, through a parched mouth and hushed tone, she ventured, “Who are you? Is there something you wish to say?” While the eyes held them spellbound, the twins felt a warm breath brush their necks.