Skip to main content

DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER

 


#ButterflyEffectSpanning25Years

#AllsWellThatEndsWell

#DiamondsAreForever

#WhereTheresAWill

The pivotal phrase from “Kafka and the Doll” by Franz Kafka which says that ‘Loss isn't final but love is transformed and restored to you in ways that you never envisioned; it's all about growth and adaptation—plays a huge part in my new year. 

The Franz Kafka of my life is a girl called ‘Charrzzx’.

In retrospect, this story was in all probability conceived in 2001 as a miniscule bubble, but nevertheless a significant ripple which would impact my life 25 years later in 2026. 

****

Year 2001:

The landmark year when I migrated to and made my base in Singapore was also a memorable one for another reason that it was my parents’ first visit to my place. The days ran into each other with visits to tourist spots and rounds of shopping sprees. 

On a very fine day, Daddy and I had passed by a Giordano showroom in a mall which I would generally walk past without a second glance otherwise.

Branded clothing wasn't my cup of tea then. 

Daddy had nudged me to a halt and pointed to a mannequin at the store front. She was displayed with a Snow white hoodie jacket with crimson and gold striped drawstrings layered over a crimson top with a signature golden peony. 

Daddy always had impeccable taste in clothes and he only had to say the word that it would truly become me and I was led into the store to buy it. It would be his gift for me. The hoodie and crimson top scored, I wouldn't let him dent his pocket and bought it for myself for the genuine affection and compliment he had given.

Decades down the line, the hoodie saw me on various air travels to and fro home, hikes and treks, nature trails and excursions but never tiring of it or a need to buy another one just for a fancy change in trend or a colour. It was daddy’s selection for me and so it would be. 

The quality Giordano showed no wear, tear or even a hint of fray and had a coveted place in my wardrobe wrapped in my favourite fragrance.

Years 2017 onwards, my Gio hoodie ‘became’ Babylou's. She took it to school every day and especially during exams when the AC at the venue hall was borderline frosty. It was her lucky mascot throughout secondary school, Junior College and the better part of her University years…until semester five. 

The trip back from India on Jan 8, 2026 with a transit at Kempegowda International changed our lives forever! At the domestic arrival hall of T1, Babylou inadvertently left our treasured hoodie on the hook of the washroom cubicle and we realised that she no longer had possession of it only at the heart stopping moment at 8 pm in T2 when we were just stepping into the Immigration queues. 

Editing a lengthy scenario which transpired at T2, but a very tearful, red-eyed, remorseful, sheepish (but my darling girl always) sat through the 4.5 hrs in the aircraft turning her face to the window. 

Once home, she wasted no time in logging into the Lost and Found section of the airport website and fervently scrolled through a million assortment of items deposited there. Filtering the search for the ‘White Jacket/ White Hoodie/ Cream colour ( in a final bid exasperation) too yielded zilch !

Responses to the emails to the manager were promptly received with apologies to us. The airport staff are diligent and the washrooms are constantly monitored. In not so many words, it was up to us to deduce that someone had walked away with our vintage hoodie. It was invaluable because of the sentiments it held, not so much for materialistic value. 

The sadness and regret on her face broke my heart into irretrievable pieces. Not so much for the loss of the jacket as I reiterate but for the realization how soft hearted and sensitive Babylou is !

It's gone forever, Amma! I'm so sorry for Ajja’s jacket. You valued it so much. It held Ajja's memories…”

The bawling went on for 2 days with curses spewed on the petty thief ! 

I hope she….”

“She should…”

“She will…”

****

The next thing that happened to us was ‘Charrzzx’ Babylou scanned through Carousel, a second sell platform. She had taken it upon herself to right the wrong. 

The first search item miraculously displayed the exact vintage Giordano hoodie I owned ! Except for the drawstrings which were red and black striped. It was an insane replica of my snow white. The only one listed. Babylou grabbed hold of it and reserved it with the trader. 

The heavens must have been on our side. It is a brand new, hardly worn, tags intact, no mark, no stains, fresh as the day it was tailored on…in a ridiculously mint condition for less than half the OG price ! Lord! 

I imagine ‘Charrzzx' or someone from the family buying the same hoodie around the same time as me in 2001 ! And how the universe scripted for us to meet after 25 years for the very hoodie they would never wear and keep it well preserved ( for me ?!) For all I know, this ‘Charrzxx’ wasn't even born in 2001 who according to Babylou is only a teenager right now! Too many synchronicities that keep my head spinning! 

The meeting place with ‘Charrzzx’ was on the stark opposite direction of the area from where we stayed but Babylou took that one hour commute from Uni after her class dismissed, snagged the deal and gifted me with the neat lil package upon arriving home. 

Amma, this is only a replacement. It's vintage and there are no more of these in stock now. To prevent any more jinxes we ain't gonna wear it no more but keep it as a memento for all time.

I still owe you a new hoodie to wear on future travels so choose something for yourself."

Well, I didn't.

Babylou had used her own well earned internship paycheck to retrieve the loss for me and that was a legacy in itself to hold close to my heart.

I may or may not have achieved high accolades or triumphed with drum rolls in this lifetime but one thing is for certain — I must have done everything absolutely right in raising a godly child in this day and age. My kintsugi heart is in spring bloom and brimming with sunbursts! 

Love returns to me in ways I never envisioned. It was transformed and restored to me in an imperial, flawless manner. The universe definitely is a top-notch director to bring a plot to its deserving finality. And Babylou is my blockbuster star ⭐

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

ANAM CARA

The waves are soft and frothy. Laced with gossamer frills tenderly kissing the tips of my toes covered with the grainy sand of the rugged seashore where I'm sitting, wistful. A gust of briny breeze tousles my hair as I gaze as far as my eyes can see.  A flock of terns wheel overhead, their sharp, shrill cries punctuating the air as they dive and swoop over the surfs. A lone frigate bird , its crimson belly dazzling like a jewel skims majestically above, its long, slender wings outstretched as it rides the thermals high above the ocean. I absorb the sights and sounds of the late afternoon while absentmindedly scooping seashells beside me. As the afternoon phases, the furthest rim of the ocean is fringed in a gilded hem and the sleepy sun yawns, its dipping glow streaking the sky in a mellow tangerine and warm cherry. As I continue sitting there, the ships and yachts appear --specks of light from the portholes glimmering in the distance, reminding me of the phrase “That ship has sai...

BOKETTO

  In my quiet moments, I pause the world from its frantic pace. In that stillness, I wistfully gaze into the distance and just let things unfurl as they please. I let my thoughts flow, absorbing nothing. Internalizing nothing. And just like that, the strands of tightly woven twine untangle and the knots come loose. Today, as usual, I found myself caught up in the hustle and bustle of daily grind. I was rushing to get things done, stressing about deadlines, and feeling overwhelmed by the sheer amount of tasks on my to-do list. But then, I took a deliberate pause. With a deep breath, I stretched, stepped away from my desk, and walked out onto my balcony. Leaning on the railing, I looked down at the familiar lanes of my neighborhood, twirling around the corners behind the blocks of apartments.  The park and playground stood deserted at noon amid the cluster of flowering trees and surrounded by the hedges lining the curbs. I gazed at the sky, feeling the warm sun on my face and ...

ARIEL AND BLUE-BLOOD SHOES

  The waves crashed violently against the craggy mountainside and the moonlight shone on the lacy froths. As I waded through the water and stepped on the wet sand, I remembered another night which was many moons ago. The same glinting lights through the palace doorways and windows, the fireworks adorning the night sky like shooting stars and meteors. A royal celebration with all the works and the guests dressed up in their best finery and aristocratic jewelry. Of noble births they all were. Blue blooded as the matriarch had pointedly told me once.  That unholy night! That night of icy hearts and howling laughter, the echoes of cackling that followed me till I ran on wobbly legs to find my place of comfort where the land met water… Hot tears streaming down, I regretted those days when I lost my heart to a man so spineless. Had I not dragged him to the shore, he would have been a mangled mass after being torn apart by the piranhas and other monstrous maws.  How I regret…Oh!...

CHẠ̀WKHRĀW (Chxw̒kh rxw̒)

  As usual, at the dot of 8 pm, the Guzheng plays its stirring chords, the haunting notes beginning a slow sweep, rising to a powerful crescendo and alternating with a tranquil ebbing of melody surfing me along the waves of soul-stirring, yet a serene stretch of an hour every day.  I make it a point to sit right beside my dining room window to bask in this lulling sound therapy as my neighbor downstairs diligently plays on this zither, oblivious to my admiration. What a luxury it is to have a live orchestra while I savour the last meal of the day. It's a welcome distraction to the otherwise jarring squabbling of the playful neighbourhood children.  The Chạ̀wkhrāw of this– that the musical household might move one day is a foreboding thought. Foreshadowing this, deeply ingrained in me is the shattering news I had received upon returning to Singapore after an 8 month absence here.  The Ramadan festive season was fast approaching at the end of March but the apar...

HELLO FROM THE OTHER SIDE

The sleek steel grey landline with it's cordless handset gleams in the mid morning sunlight. It's only a fixture on the tabletop these past several years yet loved and flaunted for old times sake. Also, for the numerous times the handset had nestled in our palms. The vintage feel of it and the stronghold of memories I associate it with beats the smartphone by miles.  It has in turn been a confidante of our precious moments, some idling talk, some annoyance oh yes ! and all before Whatsapp made an entry into our lives and the poor dear was no longer in demand. The world was at our fingertips. It doesn't complain, doesn't whimper, not even a sigh, murmur or a slightest hint at a whisper of life for the past decade and more! Except… On Thursday the daylights were socked out of me! Lost in mundane chores, I had my gloved hands deep in a pile of soapy water scrubbing away at the breakfast dishes. The usual swell of silence was harshly rend by the landline from the livin...