Junk jewellery is obviously a girl's best friend. The girls who can't afford diamonds. And are too rastachhaap to carry off pearls and diamonds and chiffon. By the time I left college, I had a 1.5'-by-1.5' thermocol treasurechest, that defined my 'I-wanna-look-pretty-today' mornings, my 'what-if-I-were-a buxom-Afro' parties, 'ahem-feminist-lawyer' phases, 'I-love-being-wannabe-Arundhati-Roy' insecurities, 'angsty-chick-he-doesn't-love-anymore' heartbreaks. My 'wannabe-tribal-but-anglophile-class-guilt' existence. Glass bangles from a tribal Gujju village and a Bangalore suburb called Nagarbhavi, a metal armband from Ahmedabad, beads from Malaysia, silver from Commercial Street, bead-like things from Goa, shell-type things from Goa also(I think), artsy silver neck-thing from Cal, artsier metal horse-shoe from Colaba, pretty silver earrings from Jaipur (from ex-boyfriend, I retained them reasoning that the earrings and I had a separate and distinct relationship of our own).

I tried to be suitably no-nonsense on entering the world of Delhi lawyering. With understated silver earrings, and two silver bangles. And then I turned legal-NGO-type, so could allow myself little more femininity. Yanyways, my dressup-graph was not the point of this post.

The point of the post was my treasurechest. Which was cruelly edited by my mother, who said most of it was 'kaamwaali' type stuff anyway. So the beads went, the shells went, a few hundred glass bangles were left behind heartrenchingly, as I treaded into my new no-nonsense zone. And then, a new chocolate-box treasurechest started. With inputs from friends' holidays in Goa, Dharamshala, parents' travels in Europe. Some from my own travels to Dilli Haat and Chandni Chowk.

The treasurechest is like the unassuming friend. On busy workdays or lazy Sunday afternoons you ignore it, because the world is listening to your silly stories anyway. And you think: the treasurechest, oh you mean my little Chocolatebox, she is doing ok. And then, the world says your stories are so silly, and you hear a soft muffled cry somewhere within. And you square your shoulders the squarest, and play Dave Brubeck and read about panchayats. That's when Chocolatebox is your best friend. She says "....but your stories are the best ever". And you finger through the Box, and touch old hippie pendants that you'd forgotten about, and they say "hey, long time, we must totally catch up". And you say "yeah man, totally, daroo tonight?"


Dagny said…
oh yes, i can almost visualise ur treasure chest :)

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