The Avon Lady’s perfume brooch
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
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.
I was at my maternal home in Ajitgill village, Faridkot, looking through old things when I saw my nani’s sandook in the corner. It wasn’t locked so out of curiosity, I looked inside. It was like opening a pandora box. All of her things were still in there. Her clothes – she would wear men style kurtas with a collar and pockets on both sides, with a ghaghra – her trinkets, handwritten notes, and photographs. It was then that I felt closer to her than ever before.
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.