One of the advantages of being disorderly is that one is constantly making exciting discoveries.
- A. A. Milne
I knew I had it here somewhere. One of the drawers. Or was it the linen cupboard? My mind raced feverishly as I added to the pile of washed clothes that was slowly assuming alarming proportions. Dupattas and kurtas. Knick knacks and wrappers. Perfume bottles long gone dry, cartons sans contents, envelopes tucked safely out of sight sometime in another day and age. Coins and notes. Goodness! What a mess! And I would wax eloquent about how particular I was about everything. Yes, I guess. Particularly messy.
I shamefacedly looked around hoping against hope that it would somehow jump up and yell Howdy! to me. To think that I could be so careless! Now, before, you my dear friend who has so sweetly decided to share my troubles with me by peeking into my messy room, before you get worried about what I am hunting for, let me set your mind at rest.
It is a ring. A diamond ring. A diamond engagement ring. There! Now that I have said it, it sounds less frightening. And now don`t go frowning at me, my dear. It was taken off by choice, okay? By choice and in total anger. I look back and see in my minds eye that fateful evening three months ago. I hear that voice over the phone telling me how I was not the chosen one. But merely the one who had stepped in. Stepped into a relationship that was so beautiful. A relationship that two sets of parents refused to acknowledge. But nevertheless, one that would last forever.
What could I say? Tears streaming, I toyed with the hard glinting stone that my betrothed had place on my finger just a week ago. The man I had begun dreaming of for the past week. The man I had never seen before that week. The man who got engaged and flew off to finish his studies. Arranged marriage? Arranged hell. The ring came off. I slipped it into a jewel box and into?
Where was I? Yes. Into one of these drawers. I did not want to hear more. I called off the engagement. Assigning no reasons, I was titled stubborn and foolish by some and arrogant by others. No good, was the unanimous verdict. I wanted to offer no explanations. I wanted to encourage no dialogue. To me it was over.
Until a few minutes ago.
A call again. This time, it was my once betrothed. Telling me that he was coming over to see me. To figure out why I had gone beserk. So he said.
Hence the hunt.
To fling that ring right back at him.
I resume my rummaging and out flies a card. A card. From some stranger who says that she was sorry she called me with a pack of lies. To get her own back against the classmate she loved. The one who did not even acknowledge her.
I sit on the pile of clothes. How did this card disappear unopened into my messy space? How did I fall for such a low down gimmick? How will I ever explain to this person I hardly know that I was so impulsive and hasty? What will his parents say?
I run my hands through what is left of the mess. Miserable. My fingers chance upon a cold smooth band. And a hard rock. I pick it up.
It catches a ray of the evening sun. And glints. A flash of hope?
Just I as I discovered the price of impulse, will I discover the forgiving man who returns is my destiny?