Dating back to 1939, this coin box was a part of my grandmother’s wedding trousseau and of the two or three boxes she was given, this one survived the stretch of time and the tides of displacement. In case of a fall or dent, my grandmother would lose no time in taking it to the neighbourhood metalsmith for a quick fix. Sometimes she would ask me to accompany her, an excursion that I would enjoy every morsel of.
Omar Khayyam composed this collection of four-line stanza poems, or rubai, as they are known in Farsi, sometime between the late eleventh century to early twelfth century, before he died in 1131. History further made itself known in a personal and intimate way as I read the Bengali inscription on the first page – “To Priti and Dilip Bandopadhyay – on their wedding, 6.6.66”.
Amongst these items was a white cotton mulmul odhni, a large scarf like a dupatta, entirely hand embroidered with chikankari by her grandmother, who was from Lucknow, and presented to her on her wedding day on 29 June 1954. I cannot recall ever being enamored by anything as much as that odhni.
This Kirpan belonged to Shanta Boora, my nani , my maternal grandmother. She always carried this with her.
This photograph had come to my family to discuss our marriage. The next time I saw him to my heart’s content was when I had become Mrs. K.L Gupta. That day I felt that destiny had come to me in the form of this paper photograph to take me on the most beautiful journey of my life.
Receive a new story from somewhere in the Indian subcontinent in your inbox every week!