The box

Whenever my parents are prancy and excited, they're upto no good. My suspicion was a full fledged worry when I was marched to a jewelry store recently. Horror images of gold popped in my head. It's not a vanity thing, I just don't like the color. It looks odd against my brown skin and somehow doesn't look appealing even under designer labels.

When I stood looking utterly bored, mum eased me into the environment, cajoling into buying something. "It'll be an investment, I'm not asking you to wear it!" she stressed. I wasn't convinced. Sighing in defeat, they asked me if I wanted something. "You have to buy something. Your granny will be very upset otherwise." She retorted a tad angrily.

I'm taking a moment here to roll my eyes again. 


If my house is on fire, I'm more likely to save my tiny name necklace than any gold.

With mom making frantic calls to her astrologer to find out what my birthstone was, I was lounging around at the store having such an obviously annoyed look that no salesperson came up to me, not even the guy serving juice!

I was drawn to the blue - I usually am. A brilliant, piercing blue. The kind that sparkles with subtle luminosity when light hits it. I tried it on, it was quite loose. Must be fate. Since the only time I've pictured a sapphire that brilliant on my finger was on the countless occasions I've pictured the moment with someone asked me to be theirs for life, the ring not fitting was, fitting. 

I veered around to find mom smugly smiling. Uh oh. "You like that, do you?" "Maybe" I mumbled, mostly inaudible. Her smile grew more pronounced. "Guess what the astrologer said?" With any luck he'd have said gold is very very unlucky for me, stay away from it. No such luck. "Your birthstone is Sapphire!"

Like I said, must be fate.

I now sport a luminous blue ring on my finger, not the one of my overactive imagination, but one of my very own. And that makes it special.

The other one is locked away in my memory vaults, waiting to trudge out while my heart falters.