Old Silver Anklets

She was sitting on the edge of the bed. Bright fluorescent lights lit up the entire room, causing the light to bounce from her worn-out mirror and fall on her old frame. Navy blue curtains adorned with silver motifs were drawn close over the locked windows, giving the room a depressing feel.

She had dark skin and raven black hair turning silver. She was fifty years old with a plump body but within forgivable limits. Through years she had often heard people comment on how her eyes were gentle, brimming with compassion. If only they knew. Her frail fingers clutched a pair of silver anklets, delicate and pretty, the ones worn by Indian women. A slight movement of her tired wrists caused them to jingle, a sound that made her past flash before her eyes.

Her mind raced back to when she was a child – an average girl of a middle-class Indian family. She had small dreams and innocent wishes. Getting a pair of silver anklets was a dream that had occupied all the waking hours of her eleven-year-old self. The desire to own a pair had run deep, and she had dreamt about prancing around the house with them embracing her ankles.

"Snap out of your daydreams, Llana, would you?" All her daydreaming was always followed by her sister, Leona, scolding her. She lived with her grandmother, parents, and elder sister in a cozy house at the end of a small street in a peaceful town. Her father was rarely in the picture, often busy at work in the neighboring city. His busy schedule left the house to the womenfolk, who enjoyed spending the time together. They shared stories of yore, of when her own mother was a young girl growing up in a remote village in South India. Grandma and mom would make delectable snacks to share in the evening, and on colder days, they huddled together under warm blankets to talk.

Old Llana shivered and pushed herself on her feet. She made her way to the windows and parted the curtains. Rattling of the window panes made her recall the night after which everything had changed. Llana wished she could go back in time to warn her younger self about the changes the coming dawn would bring in her life.

☆.。.:*・°☆

Fateful Sunday morning was a lazy one, just like all the other Sundays. Girls stayed in beds late, and mother took her time preparing breakfast. The grandfather clock in the living room struck ten when Llana and Leona dragged themselves down the stairs for breakfast. Grandma was usually first at the breakfast table, but that morning, she was not there. Her chair sat untouched.

“Where’s Grandma?” Llana asked as she pulled her chair back and sat down.

“Still asleep, I presume.” Her mother replied with worry lacing her tone. “Leona, go wake up your grandmother. You girls kept her up late with your school stories, and now she’s late for breakfast.” She chided the girls as she placed steaming idlis, a type of savoury rice cake on the table. With forehead creased in concern, Leona went to wake up Grandma.

Leona’s scream had her mother rushing towards her Grandma’s room with Llana close on her heels.

Grandma was motionless, not responding to Leona’s desperate attempts to wake her up. Llana stood in their doorway, eyes fixed on the urine tracks from under Grandma’s saree, a sign that showed how serious her condition was. Is Grandma gone? Her mind whispered, but she shook her head and focused on her mother.

With her body shaking with controlled sobs, Mother leaned over Grandma’s body twice to check if she was breathing. There was no phone at their house then, so sobbing Leona rushed to the neighbors to call for an ambulance.

Grandma was rushed to the hospital, where she was wheeled away by the doctors towards ICU. Llana watched her grandmother being taken away, her frail body covered with sheets and doctors barking orders at the nurses. Even at fifty, she still remembered this day; the hospital smell, the sound of her mother and sister crying, and somewhere close, tinkling of anklets.

Llana's grandmother was diagnosed with diabetes-induced coma, and the chances of recovery were slim. After hours, the family was allowed to see her. Llana got a glimpse of her grandmother in the ICU, surrounded by machinery and various tubes. Her mother and sister stood beside her grandmother and sobbed quietly, but Llana couldn't cry. She turned and walked out of ICU with a heavy heart. She felt scared and terribly alone. She slid down on the waiting bench outside the ward. Her grandmother was dying, somewhere deep down, she knew this with certainty. She was worried about her uneducated mother dealing with hospital staff all by herself, and about her sister’s fiery temper.

Llana put her head in her hands and berated herself for even thinking about things that could only happen if her grandmother was to pass away. She was alive, wasn't she? Guilt, an emotion she'd always felt at every little thing she did wrong, unfurled in her heart. She focused on thinking something different, something to anchor her thoughts.

Suddenly, she heard the sound. The soft tinkling of anklets in the hallway. Her tired eyes searched for the source and found it immediately. A nurse was wearing silver anklets over her socks. They were delicately designed with only a small cluster of tiny bells near the clasp. Llana smiled. She'd always wanted a pair and now she knew what kind of anklets she wanted. The owner of those silver anklets stopped in front of her. Llana didn't look up as she was mesmerized by the beautiful piece of jewelry.

“Is your grandmother conscious?” The voice snapped Llana out of her trance, wiping the smile off her face. She looked up at the nurse with eyes wide in horror at being caught smiling when her grandmother was struggling for her life just inside the door. Not trusting her voice, she shook her head. The nurse smiled down at her and placed her hand on Llana’s head.

“Why don’t you pray for her?”

Guilt, strong and ugly, curled around her heart, but she managed to nod. She was caught doing something inappropriate by a person wearing such beautiful anklets. She scolded herself and forced herself to pray. She clasped her palms together and focused on prayers, but her traitor mind sought that melodious sound in the hallway. She chanted all the mantras she knew in quick succession – muttering under her breath. One day, she was going to own a pair of anklets exactly like that one.

Soon, her mother came out of the ICU, closely followed by her sister. Together, the three of them returned home for the day. The visiting hours were over, and the doctors were going to keep her grandmother in ICU to run some more tests.

The next morning, tense silence hung heavy over the entire house. Mother didn't call good morning nor smiled at the girls as they got ready for school. Leona wanted to stay behind and help, but Mother insisted they go. In the next few days, the girls went to school, and Leona would go to the hospital with their mother. Llana always stayed behind, the guilt turning into a dark mass inside her. She knew if she went, she'd be a disappointment. She wouldn't be able to concentrate, and her mind will always seek that tinkling sound or a glimpse of silver around the nurse's ankles.

Soon, her father returned. He looked more tired than usual, with dark circles under his eyes. His hair was a mess as if he'd developed a habit of running his hands through them. When his eyes settled on his girls, Llana was sure she'd seen tears pooling in them. With him back, her parents started taking turns in visiting the hospital. Leona went every other day as well, leaving Llana alone at the house. Before she knew it, her grandmother was back home with her usual smile and shining eyes. She hugged Llana tight and told her how she'd missed seeing her. Guilt choked Llana's voice in her throat, so she just nodded with a wet smile.

Life got back onto the track with her father back to his work outside the town. Her mother started smiling at them again, but Llana never missed concerned glances she threw her grandmother's way. Days turned into weeks and weeks into a month. When the sun turned cold and chilly winds started to blow, her grandmother found it hard to get up. Within days, she was bedridden. It was a distressing time for the entire family. Doctors were called to visit grandmother at home, but she didn't get better. One morning, when the sun was hiding behind thick fog, her grandmother passed away in her sleep.

The twelve-day ritual of grieving began to send off the departed soul. People visited and consoled her family. All Llana did was watch them from her window or from a corner of the room. She hugged back people who hugged her and wiped the tears of women who cried when greeting her. During these twelve days, all Llana could see was the variety of anklets worn by ladies who came to visit. Some made no sound, and some could be heard from far away. Some were bigger and some small. None was as delicate as she'd seen in the hospital. No anklet shone as beautifully or made that lovely sound.

The thirteenth day began as the day of celebrations. Celebrating the life of the departed, the joy of life, praying for hood health and prosperity. It was the day when immediate family members exchanged gifts. Mother's aunts, wealthy and independent women, visited Llana's family. Revati Atthai and her younger sister Pankajam Atthai lived on the other side of the country, so they could only make it on the day of celebrations. They were affectionate towards Llana and Leona and always offered them gifts which, the girls were taught to refuse politely.

On a cold Thursday morning, there was a festive mood around the house. Revathi Atthai held Llana in her lap.

“So, child, have you thought about what you want as a gift?” Revathi asked, caressing Llana's dark curls. Llana wanted to blurt out about wanting silver anklets, but she held back. She didn’t want her great-aunt to think that she’d been thinking about this day and this question precisely since her grandmother passed away. The battle between the manners over desire waged inside the little head, with guilt hanging heavily between the two. Revathi noticed the turmoil Llana was in, so she asked her to be candid with her.

Llana hemmed and hawed, and protested that she didn't want any gift, but Revathi could see right through her.

“I want a pair of silver anklets. Silver, like the one I’d seen at the hospital.” Unplanned words shot out of Llana’s mouth, leaving her with more guilt. What had she done? How could she ask for such an expensive gift? When she protested that it had been a mistake, her great-aunts shushed her and got ready to visit the market. Together with her mother and great-aunts, Llana went to the market in a tuk-tuk. Llana felt contrite and sheepish and at the same time secretly gloated over her courage. Contradicting emotions waged war inside of her, but she suppressed them.

Llana hesitated on the threshold of the jewelry shop. Her great-aunts encouraged her and together they entered the heavenly place. Llana forgot to blink, losing herself in a variety of anklet designs in front of her.

One pair caught her attention, and she forgot to breathe. It was a silver piece with tiny bells shaped into small flowers fixed into the chain. A small intricate heart hung at the clasp, catching all the light from the shop. Seeing her mesmerized by the piece, her great-aunts motioned at the jeweler to pack the same one. Llana couldn’t believe that it was going to be hers. She didn’t listen to the price negotiations, but she did know that it was expensive. Llana held onto the cardboard box wrapped with beautiful pink paper, in which the jeweler had packed the pair of anklets, as they went around window shopping before heading home.

After her great-aunts left for the day, Llana heard no end of the lecture about seeking gifts from guests who had come to mourn her Grandma's passing from her father. Her mother had sobbed quietly in the corner, and Leona had looked at her with disappointment. Nothing could dampen Llana’s exhilaration.

The day of exchanging gifts was colder than most winter days but girls found themselves up, and early due to excitement. During the gift exchange, Llana could barely hold herself in her seat. Finally, she was handed the pink box, which she opened while holding her breath. The pair was delicate to touch, so she took her time putting them on. For the rest of the day, the tinkling sound echoed through the house whenever Llana walked.

From then on every Sunday, the anklets came out of the pink box, and everyone could hear Llana come and go. They could hear her dance in the hallway or in her room, just to hear the tiny bells.

When she couldn’t hold it in anymore, she took the pink box to school to show off the pair to her friends. The moment Llana took out the anklets, everyone was mesmerized. The girls all huddled together at Llana’s desk in excitement. Amidst the thrilling chatter, Llana heard a remark that was going to haunt her all her life.

“So, it took Llana’s grandmother’s death for her to get what she’d always wanted.”

The remark mortified her. Black and ugly guilt that she'd kept suppressed in the corner of her heart unleashed, engulfing her chest and all she felt. She did stoop low to make the most of the tragic situation. She was ashamed and heartbroken.

The glee she'd felt at owning the pair was snuffed out in a trifle. That day, she went home and put away the anklets, never to be seen again. She recalled reading it somewhere, and it went on in her head like a chant, "Be careful of what you wish for you may receive it."

☆.。.:*・°☆

Old Llana looked at the pair of silver anklets in her hands. She didn't remember when she'd picked them up from her parents's house. She didn't even remember how she'd ensured that they'd stay with her for all these years. Somehow, she'd found them in one of the old boxes in her house where she lived with her husband and her daughter. Her eyes misted when she remembered the quote and the guilt that had always haunted her.

At fifty, the guilt was still there, but she knew that the anklets belonged to her. They were hers forever, and in some way the pair had found its way back to her. The moment she clutched them in her hand, finally owning them, her eyes glazed, and she went into a trance. As if anklets had finally cast a spell on her.