“Why are you not wearing your earring?” asked my mother as she was serving my aunt, her sister-in-law. It was Mangali Pondugal*, where the married and young girls of the house were served food and given gifts. This function was to honour my dead grandmother, who died a Sumangali* as she preceded her husband in death. My entire paternal side of five other siblings of my father along with their spouses and children, congregated at my parent’s house in Hyderabad for both her ceremony followed by this auspicious function. The morning started with a traditional oil bath, followed by wearing of freshly-dried traditional clothes and scores of other rituals. The kitchen was abuzz with the preparation of the food and the aroma of ghee from sweets like paysam and Appam vied with the tangy flavour of sambar and rasam as they permeated the house. The crispy Vada dancing around in the oil were being perpared by one of my aunts, who took the stove away from the kitchen to the corner of the dining room as she had to prepare hoardes of them. 

We were sitting there cross-legged on the floor of the drawing room cleared of all its furniture to make way for nine of us, as one after the other food items were served.  It was considered an honour to be fed a delectable spread on that day. I loved sitting in my long new pavadai made of silk feeling pretty wearing my favourite earrings, bangles and a chain. I tucked in my skirt around my knees so that it does not fall on the plantain leaf as I lean forward to eat from it. I was old enough to know not to dig into the sweet and wait till all the items were served but that did not prevent me from drooling. There was a ritual that needed to be followed. I had to wait till until we all were given a go-ahead to start eating. Sitting opposite her, I wondered what my mother was talking about. My mother’s words were only delaying the process.  The same thought must have been my aunt’s, as I saw her fingers go to her ear and she told, “I am wearing it!” That is when we all realized that one of the pairs of her diamond earrings had gone missing.

My mother gestured one of my older teenage siblings, who were not allowed to sit along with us, to hand over her earrings so that the brunch would go uninterrupted and without tears spilling over the plate. Growing up in a traditional setting, I learnt a lot of do’s and don’ts, rights and wrongs along with good and bad. One of them was not to cry over a plate of food as it was considered inauspicious and Goddess Lakshmi would be displeased. This came over and above avoiding wastage. That too would add to the Goddesses’ displeasure.

I wasn’t to know at the age of ten that diamonds were considered more than a girl’s best friend. Over the course of the day and the following days, I learnt that it was both a harbinger of good luck and also reflected one’s stature in society. Most brides wore them in the south Indian Tamil homes and it was one of the causes of rift too as it was considered one of those mandatory gifts given to girls of the house even if the parents could ill-afford.

At that young age, I was witness to my first ever ‘operation search’ when everything including vegetable waste and garbage cans were searched post the lunch. More numbers joined in as the house and its surrounding garden were swept and searched with finer- than -fine comb. I joined in with great deal of enthusiasm for I envisaged myself as a budding detective as that was one of the games I played with my friends. In between the search, I came across my aunt sobbing bitterly at both the monetary loss and the belief that ill-luck would befall her.

Losing diamonds were considered inauspicious, more so on a Friday and on Sumangali Prarathanai, a specific prayer for marital longevity and prosperity. I saw the distress visible on my septuagenarian grandfather’s face on what he considered a great loss for his youngest and most favourite child.  I heard my father say, “This is one of the revocable losses. We three brothers will replace it for you even if not immediately. Save your tears and shed them only for irrevocable losses.” That was the first time, I learnt words like revocable and irrevocable though little did my father know that his words would turn prophetic as my grandfather died within a fortnight of this episode.  

My grandfather had three wishes. One was to die in his own house in the then Madras. The second was to die close to his wife’s death ceremony so that all the functions could be done with ease by his sons. The third was to meet his children and his rather large group of siblings before his death. He managed to do all that. He left our home in Hyderabad, though an unhappy man but happy that his sons offered to replace the lost earrings. He went back to his own house. He died after attending a function the previous evening where he met all his siblings and their family. All this within a week of this occurrence in Hyderabad.

Traveling for the funeral and subsequent ceremonies, my aunt’s keening cries mixed with many voices attributing the loss of the diamond a portending of sorts to my grandfather’s death was told and re-told that I keep checking on my own diamond earrings and ring often enough to the point of being a paranoid some fifty-years thence.

Life went on. I wasn’t privy to the knowledge then that my parents already on a shoe-string budget were worried that they had to contribute quite marginally to replace the lost jewellery. A promise made to a departed soul was a promise to be kept indeed. My uncles too might have worried for it was quite an expense for the middle-class that we were.

My mother always an ardent gardener kept her eyes peeled each time she dug up the soil to plant seeds or to harvest some vegetables. I often saw her take a broom, to sweep out some unreachable corners. I knew that she hoped against hope that she would find the errant earrings though as days went by, the hope too declined.

June slipped into July. And with it the monsoon freshness. We were in the backyard, my mother plaiting my hair as I was getting ready for school when something pierced her bare feet. Looking down, the errant earring was winking at my mother as the sunshine fell on it through some overhanging leaves. It was mostly covered in soil, yet it could not hide the grandeur of the diamonds. Letting my hair go, she bent to scoop it with wonder and relief. It was exactly one month to the date that the earring went missing.

Obviously someone had walked on it pushing it deep into the soil and a week of continuous rain must have pushed it above the ground as if the time has come for the earring to be found. The joy of my mother knew no bounds.  That was the only time, I heard my mother raise her voice, calling out to my father in excitement. Having lost his dad in the interim period, my father felt the deep poignancy of his words that he had spoken. Indeed, the diamond was one of the revocable losses. Those were the times when you couldn’t just whip out your phone to impart the good news. So there he was rushing to the local telegraph office to send out a telegram. I am sure it would have read: DIAMOND EARRING FOUND. STOP.  Maybe, he made an exception and made a costly trunk-call.

Years later, this unforgettable experience has taught me a few things. Predominant among them is the fact that things happen when it will and things that are ours come back to us in some form or the other.  Despite this fact, it has not technically prevented me from worrying. Diamonds are a pain to possess for it gives us great deal of worry rather than joy! And yes, irrevocable losses can never be mitigated.  Finally, family relationship needs to be maintained and rituals and traditions play a strong role in maintaining that.  I have only seen the bond become stronger long after my parents too have moved on to the other life.

Notes: 

Both Sumangali Prarathanai and Mangali Pondugal are one the same and used interchangeably.

Pavadai- A long skirt usually made of silk worn by young girls for a function