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.
As the oldest of three sisters, Nani was given the heaviest and most exquisite paijeb out of the collection, on 8 March, 1969, her wedding day. This pair of payal has been in my family for more than 160 years now.
One such treasure is what my paternal grandfather, Rishabh Chandra Jain, made for me many years ago when I had just finished college. A small neckpiece that he fashioned from some loose beads and a piece of stone that no one was using and that simply lay in an insignificant box in the house for a long time.
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