My mother is the last remaining female descendant of my maternal family, but knows little about the pazaib. I often wonder, did Baebaejaan come to Karachi with the pair of these pazaib? Did she perhaps give one to another daughter? Or sell it to start a new life?
The Hasla is typically a torque-style necklace, thick and rigid, cast in silver and sitting close to the neck. It belonged to Ilm Kaur, my maternal great grandmother, who died sometime in the year 1949, succumbing to an unknown illness.
A silver kada, the protagonist of this story, isn’t just an ornament, it’s a reward given for the strength and determination shown by my mother from my great grandmother. But my journey to uncover the kada’s story has been nothing short of an adventure — a puzzle waiting to be solved. Its history, wrapped in silence and secrecy, felt like uncharted territory.
Last year, my mother gave me a carnelian-coloured brooch from Avon, circa 1970, that belonged to her mother. I’d always known that my grandmother used to be an Avon Lady
This Chunni or nose ring found its way to Bombay on the nose of its fiery, feisty owner, Lakshmibai Chhabria. She continued to wear it even after she lost her husband, her eldest son and her land of birth, all with one single Partition line, lakeer, as they call it in our family.
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