The Astitva Of The Antique Ring-A Fiction Short Story

DISCLAIMER:

This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this Story are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and unintentional.

 

Sunday

Rohanlal was busy dusting his shop and the vast scattered collections that it contained as was his usual practice when she entered.

His very first customer of the day! On a lazy Sunday.

What luck!

He had just opened his shop and was naturally pleased to receive his first customer. Like most shopkeepers, Rohanlal treated his first customer with the utmost respect and unfailing attention. Tradition and experience and a bit of superstition had taught him that if he could strike a favourable deal with the first customer, many more customers would follow in the toe and he would be able to make a neat profit.

Rohanlal, all of 70 years old, put aside his dusting cloth and rushed to greet her.

She did not appear at all sure and this was evident in her stride and behaviour, for her walk was slow and her gaze was all over the place. Rohanlal recognized such customers at once. The curious ones. Ones who are not here to buy anything specific but are just wandering around. Selling anything to such customers is always tough for they themselves do not know what they want and whether they really want it at all or not.

But Rohanlal was a pro, and being in this ancestral business for almost half a century, he knew the art of cajoling and convincing. And above all, he could quickly spot each customer's weakness.

That was his main extraordinary feature. Since he owned a second-hand antique shop, his understanding of the customer's weaknesses was the secret to his success. For, unlike any other shop, in an antique shop, people came with the secret hope of finding a treasure for peanuts hence their eyes used to wander all over the place. Many felt they might be lucky to buy a vintage heirloom belonging to a Princess, some hoped to buy antique furniture once owned by zamindars, while others harboured the secret ambition of buying sovereigns of the past for a pittance. Alike to people visiting a gambling casino, trying to figure out the secret or the statistics of earning more than what they spend and playing again and again with the unabashed desire and hope of striking the jackpot, customers visiting his shop were no fewer gamblers.

It was this exciting act of searching amongst old stuff with the hope of discovering & ultimately buying a priceless piece for a pittance that thrilled and attracted most of the folks to his shop, and the object of purchase being relatively secondary in importance.

Naturally, these customers are found to look all around the shop, without any specific idea of what exactly they want to buy.

For such undecided moments, and they happen almost regularly and routinely to him, Rohanlal had kept wonderful stories ready for each product. As a 'back-up'. It was then that Rohanlal would step in with his theatrics, narrate one exciting story after another. He would proudly proclaim that the huge majestic mirror encased in a gold-plated carving belonged to a Rajput Sardar or the bronze vase and copper utensils were once the proud property of a prominent ruling Maratha family. Each piece was supported with an illustrious story, a glorious past, and was sold as a 'slice of history. Needless to say, these stories were enough to evoke sufficient interest and a flush of pride would appear on the customer, who always wanted to own a treasure, a relic of the past. And that too at a trifle!

Whether anyone bothered to verify the truth behind his stories is not known. But many accepted it willingly or rather wanted to accept it desperately to satisfy their snobbish, lofty, and greedy ambitions.

This customer too was looking all over the place, fearful that a treasure might just escape her sight.

"Anything particular in mind?" Rohanlal questioned, screening her face for answers.

"No! Nothing in particular." She hesitated as she said and quickly added to Rohanlal aloud "Err…….. Just looking around to see if I can find something appropriate". To herself, she said "A good picture of furniture will be excellent for my new flat" and continued to look around the furniture section with more interest. Rohanlal followed her gaze and understood at once what she had in mind.

Like a brilliant shopkeeper, he showed her around the furniture section, regaling her with fascinating stories behind each piece of furniture. She appeared mildly interested though not very sure about the furniture pieces when her eyes rested on a small glass case containing jewellery.

Antique jewellery! Her eyes lit up!

Rohanlal followed her gaze and understood.

A typical young lady!

Jewellery! And more jewellery!

"This jewellery is a new addition" Rohanlal was explaining with zeal. "We have never dealt with jewellery. It is a new field for us. I and my forefathers have only sold furniture, heirloom, utensils, sovereign, carpets, etc. literally everything except jewellery, from centuries."

Rohanlal paused.

"It was my son's idea that we slowly begin to introduce jewellery too…"

The young lady was not listening. Her eyes were scanning the small collection of jewellery placed on a piece of velvet in the glass case. Necklaces, pendants, earrings, toe rings, rings, chokers of pearls, precious stones had caught her attention. 

Sadly, Rohanlal had no glorious story to back up the jewellery pieces.

Anyway, that did not matter. The young lady did not wait for any story but bought a huge ring of gleaming precious stones without a word and a second thought.

For her, it had been 'love-at-first-sight'!

Rohanlal sighed and shrugged his shoulders after he counted the money that the young lady had paid. For it had been easier than he had anticipated.

'Women!' he said 'No one can understand women'. He sighed. Again.

Rashmi stepped out of Rohanlal's shop and gleamed more than the ring that she had just bought!

What a deal!

What a steal!

She smiled to herself, profusely congratulating herself.

Just five thousand bucks for a priceless precious stone ring! Maybe it even belonged to a Princess ! For had she not bought it from a second-hand antique shop and not from a Jeweller's shop! Why she was sure it MUST HAVE belonged to a Princess. The more she looked at it, the more she believed in her theory.

It's a pity that she had not waited for the shop owner to relate the story behind this ring. He might have even told him the name of Princess this ring had belonged to!

Anyway, it was not necessary!

She knew for sure that it MUST HAVE belonged to a Princess for it surely was a ring befitting a Princess!

She always knew that a woman's instincts were always right when it came to jewellery.

And her instincts had never failed her.

She could hardly wait till the next weekend when she would show off her huge ring to her kitty-party friends. What would be their reactions? Surprise, wonder, envy, jealousy, well….maybe even gossip!

Rashmi could hardly wait for the next week to get over.

She knew that the next week would be a drag, devoid of any spice and excitement, just a regular dull and boring work week where every day she will slog for eight hours working in the office and four hours commuting in her car, and two hours cooking in her kitchen.

She just wished the next week to be like birds, flying and flying away and that too…………..fast.

Or if could just fast-forward the next week, like channels by a remote, and very quickly arrive at her favorite day of the week-the next Saturday! The Kitty Party day! She chided herself for being so childish and over-dramatic.

'What a drag the next week would be' she said to herself once again, grimacing. Grumbling.

'Will be so unbearable!" Rashmi said with a feeling of dismay. But one glance at the huge ring on her finger was enough to put a quick smile on her face.

Rashmi was wrong.

For once, her instincts were all wrong.

The next week was going to be a significant well, even a memorable one, by all standards! 

 

Monday

Every day Rashmi carpooled to the office, which was an almost two-hour ride and so was waiting for the car at the designated spot. When she got in the back seat, she saw that Mr Ahujawala, a burly old man, nearing retirement, had already occupied a major portion of the back seat, as was his habit. Rashmi grimaced, knew she had no choice, and tried to make herself comfortable in the back seat. The front seat was already taken by her colleague Vikram Bose. Since he had arranged for the carpool and had coordinated everything he felt it was his natural right to occupy the front seat in full glory.

Rashmi had never argued about that.

Rashmi knew what was to happen next. 

Mr Ahujawala, would open his newspaper wide enough and will read or will appear to read, his hand stretched maximum wide so that he would be able to touch Rashmi. Just accidentally of course! He had always arranged for many such accidents to happen accidentally in the course of their travel, which was an unbearable two long hours!

Rashmi had gone sick of him and his artificially created accidents! And many a time had tried to shake his handoff. But it had never worked. After a few moments, he always came up with an excuse to touch her shoulders or even a light brush on the thighs. At such times, Rashmi would squeeze herself, coiling herself tightly such that she would occupy a bare minimal space, totally disgusted.

Hours of sitting in a coiled position would take a toll on Rashmi and involuntarily she had to uncoil herself. Mr Ahujawala knew when it would happen. And that would be his small victory.

And he would celebrate his sweet victory by once again stretching his hands to the maximum, to read the newspaper or so it would seem. Rashmi would then stare at him with wide kajal eyes to make him know her displeasure. Or she would look out of the car, trying to escape into another world. Staring and ignoring had become her only two weapons, which were very weak ones against a determined sex-pest like Mr Ahujawala.

Though he appeared to be reading the newspaper, Rashmi knew that he was busier reading her expressions instead. Reading her face for any positive response from her, any faint signs of approval from her.

From her who was almost his daughter's age!

Why once he even had the nerve to touch her breasts! Accidentally, of course!

And instead of the customary 'Sorry' which he should have said, he was watching her face to see if she had enjoyed the touch and would want more………….

'Oh! That creep!' Rashmi had been too shocked and disgusted to react and had looked away, not letting him catch her expressions that he so desperately wanted to see. That was Rashmi's small victory, but knowing Mr. Ahujawala, she knew that he would try again and again and would accidentally try to brush his hands across her breasts, trying to watch her reactions.

Rashmi had no idea how she would deal with the situation when it happened again.

And it happened again. Today.

The 'so-called fake accident'.

When he brushed his hands across her breasts! Accidentally of course!

When it happened, Rashmi was too busy admiring her huge magnificent ring and daydreaming and was cruelly jolted out of her thoughts by the accidental brush.

Involuntarily, Rashmi smiled!

She actually smiled at him as she voluntarily caressed her huge ring.

After a moment, she was surprised, even angry with herself. 'How could she smile at him! And what on earth made her smile at him?' She wondered angrily.

'Maybe she was too lost in the beauty of her ring that she has started viewing the whole World to be beautiful as the ring', she reasoned.

And had given Mr Ahujawala that coveted smile.

Mr Ahujawala was more surprised than Rashmi!

So surprised was he, that he almost flinched in shock and without a word buried himself in the wide newspaper, too stunned to react.

Nevertheless, the rest of the ride passed off without a word or ………………a brush, in this case.

When she entered her office, the first thing that caught her attention was her junior Ms Aditi, in her tight-figure hugging short (as short as office protocol would allow) dress, making some interesting conversation with the new Boss Mr Roy. It was rumoured that the new boss, Mr Roy had a roving eye, a weakness which was easily spotted by many ladies of the office. Most, including Rashmi, had shrugged it off as a passing fancy and had instead chosen to concentrate on their work.

Aditi, the sexy lass, on the other hand, knew how to make the most of the situation, empowered as she was with her sexy body and loose morals. She knew exactly which keys to press, which boxes to tick, how exactly to carry herself so that she gets the undivided attention of her boss. She was not wrong. Mr Roy was all ears and of course eyes when Aditi did any PowerPoint presentation. Everyone had seen his fleeting glance on Aditi's well-endowed breasts (or 'surgically- enhanced' some people would say) and his admiring glance on Aditi's near-perfect bottom, when she was busy presenting or performing, many would say.

Aditi was the first to notice Boss's interest and had played along well. Many knew she had strong previous experiences to back her up. And of course, it had paid off! It was rumoured that she was to supersede her many seniors, including Rashmi, and was a strong contender for the next year's promotion. Boss had been bold enough to ask Aditi to accompany him to Malaysia for the Annual Conference and it went without saying that Aditi was the first choice when it came to presenting the 'Company's Achievements for the current financial year' and the 'Path Forward Map' at the National Level Delegation, routinely held in a plush resort in Lonavala.

Tired as she was with the ride, Rashmi headed off to the washroom to freshen up.

As she was busy putting on her mild make-up and lip-gloss, she did not fail to notice the huge ring, resting majestically on her slender manicured fingers. Her ring soon became the hot 'Washroom discussion point' as all eyes settled on it and there were collective gasps and whispers and giggles.

There were questions everywhere. 'Where did she get it from?', 'A real antique piece?', 'Which era?', 'Who did it belong to?', 'And the price?', 'Really so less…….. for such a treasure!'

Many wanted to know if she had secretly gotten engaged or had acquired an admirer. A boyfriend even!

Rashmi shook her pretty head to say 'No', obviously gloating with every passing moment.

When people praised her ring, she felt she had been praised instead. Which lead to her thinking wishfully that perhaps she was more beautiful than the ring itself. A true case of misplaced admiration!

As she looked at her gleaming face in the huge washroom mirror, involuntarily she loosened the first two buttons of her white crisp shirt, all the while looking at her huge ring with unmasked pleasure, and went off to attend the presentation.

Boss Mr Roy was the first to notice the unbuttoned shirt and all that it revealed in full glory. And smiled with approval and satisfaction. Now he had more to feast on! And a change was just the thing that he wanted at this time of the year. For it had been almost a year since he had first set sight on Aditi's assets and like most playboys, was usually bored with the routine stuff.

Now there was something new to spice up his life and office time.

Aditi first looked stunned at Rashmi's ample cleavage and then looked clearly disapprovingly at Rashmi. A single glance at her boss was enough for her to understand that her Boss's attention was now wavering from her and that she now had Rashmi for competition.

Well, Well………… Aditi always adored challenges and matching up and bettering Rashmi at the game might be more exciting than she had expected.

When Rashmi noticed her boss eyeing her cleavage, she was surprised that she did not seem to mind, for neither did she flinch nor did she make any attempt to button her shirt. Instead, she often found her hand with the huge ring, caressing her open chest. Whether her Boss was feasting on her huge cleavage or her huge ring she was not certain, but it was certain that she was truly enjoying his undivided attention!

Tuesday

Rashmi was getting ready for the office, rummaging through her wardrobe, rejecting most of her Kurtis and formal shirts and pants as either too common or too worn out when she glanced at the one-piece dress that was lying neglected in a corner of her wardrobe. Involuntarily and without a thought, she picked it up and tried it on. The lush brown one-piece stuck to her figure like magic, almost becoming her second skin. 'That's what designer dresses do to you' Rashmi thought, momentarily forgiving herself for paying such an outrageous price for the dress. On other occasions, she would have rejected the dress as too short or too tight but something unusual had come over her today and she did something which would have been unthinkable to her on other days. She actually wore the dress to her office! On other days, she would have thought twice about wearing this dress even to a cocktail party.

She mildly wondered what had come over her, whether it was her interest in her huge ring which dwarfed her interest in other things including her sexy dress, or whether she wanted to wear the dress that would complement her sexy ring she could not fathom.

Her sexy dress, rather her new sexy avatar, did not go unnoticed!

For as soon as she stepped out of her home, she could feel eyes on her and behind her. Eyes admiring her, eyes leering at her, eyes ogling her. Eyes everywhere.

Nishant, her next-door neighbour, who was just entering his flat from a habitual late-night party, softly whistled, as she breezed past her. On regular occasions, she would have been offended; which was why Rashmi was surprised when she actually gave him a meaningful glance and even smiled at him. Nishant, quick to notice the change in Rashmi's usually stiff behaviour, seized the opportunity and gathered the courage to invite her to his flat for a drink.

'A drink? At this time of the day or rather a morning?' Rashmi said. Nishant took it as a rejection from Rashmi, hence was surprised when Rashmi blurted out involuntarily, all of a sudden "Tonight maybe, I don't drink in the morning".

Nishant blinked, Rashmi also blinked.

Rashmi had once again surprised herself with her unexpected behaviour. She had actually agreed to have a drink with the pestering womanizer Nishant! Nishant shrugged, 'Women! It is so difficult to predict women! And to think he had plenty of experience with women, yet women continued to surprise him time and again! Phew!'

Rashmi, strangely feeling lighter and happier, after the conversation, headed off to catch her car.

When the car stopped, Rashmi noticed that Mr Ahujawala was seated in his usual pose in the rear seat. Occupying a major portion of the seat.

Without a word and thought, Rashmi slid onto the back seat and sat closer to Mr Ahujawala, touching his shoulders with her shoulder, her open thighs with his thighs. Mr Ahujawala was surprised, to say the least. Rashmi was more surprised by her behaviour, but to her surprise, she was enjoying herself. Was it Mr Ahujawala's attention on her bare thighs that she was enjoying or his discomfort at her behaviour, she did not know.

But Rashmi was enjoying it thoroughly! Which was why she was all the more surprised!

The rest of the ride went off well.

With Rashmi, earphones plugged and tuned to the latest hot dance music, and an 'I-don't–give a damn attitude' on her carefully painted face, touching her huge ring for comfort and happiness and Mr Ahujawala, relishing the wonderful change in her, it was indeed a pleasant ride!

When she stepped into the office, everyone from the Security Guard to the Canteen boy to the Interns, to her colleagues, and her boss noticed the change. She was aware of her co-workers giving her a second glance as her sexy dress and the sensuous walk had attracted many eyeballs. To her surprise, Rashmi was enjoying the attention.

And all along, she felt that only her huge ring deserved this attention!

Aditi felt that Rashmi was upping her glam quotient and realized that beating her at this game was going to be more difficult than she had expected. Boss Mr. Roy, who had noticed the huge ring with her huge bosom, wondered if Rashmi had acquired a new boyfriend along with the huge ring, and had changed her avatar to suit her boyfriend's liking. If that was indeed the case, then he knew that shaking off her boyfriend and trying to get Rashmi interested in him instead, was going to be a huge task.

But he had to start working on the same right away, so he started by giving Rashmi a huge project with huge responsibilities. This would ensure that Rashmi would have to spend more time after office hours, discussing the project with him. Rashmi was only too happy to grab the Boss's interest.

It was pretty late when Rashmi reached her building entrance lobby.

"I hope you have not forgotten our little date" came an amorous voice from behind.

Rashmi turned to find Nishant loitering in the lobby, checking emails on his smartphone. This brought Rashmi to reality and she remembered her promise.

Rashmi knew that Nishant's emphasis on the word 'date' was loud and purposeful so that people and security personnel in the lobby would get some 'food for gossip'. Nishant loved being in the limelight and would do anything to be the 'centre-of-gossip'. Rashmi quickly scanned the crowd in the lobby-many appeared busy on their phones, others in their newspapers but Rashmi knew that they were eyeing her from the corner of their eyes and storing every bit of scandalous gossip that they could manage to gather.

Rashmi, never one for gossip or scandal, found herself enjoying the attention that she was getting from the crowd.

To her surprise, she found herself willingly accompanying Nishant to his flat, swaying her hips purposefully, sensuously, with Nishant leading the way……………….. as if taking a huge victory lap!

When she entered Nishant's flat, a typical bachelor pad, Nishant gallantly asked her if she would like some wine to begin with.

"Rum" prompt came Rashmi's answer.

Nishant raised his eyebrows wide. Rashmi did the same. Her promptness had surprised her.

Nishant heeded off to get the drink while Rashmi looked around his drawing-room which contained numerous photographs of models. No wonder! Nishant was a fashion photographer and that explained why many pretty struggling and upcoming models visited his place day and night. Some to get photographed, some to get closer to Nishant.

Nishant beamed as he showed off his expensive camera and was busy explaining to Rashmi how to get the best angles, the right expressions when Rashmi halfway into her fourth or was it the fifth drink of the day, cut him short and suddenly blurted out in a slur "Dance! Wanna dance?"

Nishant was taken aback by Rashmi's proposal.

"Sure!" was all he could say.

No sooner had he put on some music, than Rashmi jumped off from her chair and began to sway wildly, madly with the music, her hair let loose, her body swaying sensuously to the music. To say that Nishant was taken aback would be an understatement. He was totally bowled over. Much more, however, was to come.

When the music switched to a romantic number, Rashmi moved close to him and very provocatively placed his hands on her hips, her on his shoulders, and started gliding in a typical romantic way.

Wow!

Nishant could now even smell Rashmi's perfume and of course, Rashmi's sensuous appetite!

Nishant could not believe his good fortune. After a few more minutes of this dance and he was sure that Rashmi would jump into bed with him. Nishant looked closely at Rashmi. She was tapping Nishant lightly on the shoulder with her hand wearing the huge ring. Nishant was too busy reading her body language and her provocative moves which demanded more. Her eyes were closed as if mesmerized by the situation as if she had decided to give in completely to the moment and to……………err…….. Nishant.

Nishant never thought it would be so easy!

'Maybe she had a few more pegs than she could handle and was beginning to feel giddy' thought Nishant for now her movements were becoming too shaky and she was almost going to pass off when Nishant held her tight or she would have hit the ground.

'Carrying her to his bedroom would be so easier now. Why she might even not have any memory of what transpired after she passed off' Nishant thought to himself and had just lifted her in his arms when the doorbell rang.

Once. Then twice.

Nishant grimaced. 'Oh, Shit! Why do such things happen to him only?' he grumbled and said to himself 'And people say that I am so lucky………can get any girl in the world', while he put Rashmi down on the sofa, and went off to see who had rung the bell and played the spoilsport.

"Tanya!" Nishant exclaimed when he opened the door. Half-surprised, half-annoyed.

He had almost forgotten that he had promised Tanya that he would do her photoshoot tonight.

So when Tanya barged into his drawing-room, Nishant without a word rummaged Rashmi's purse for her house keys, picked her up, opened the door of her flat, and dropped her in her bed.

'Phew! So much for the date with Rashmi' thought Nishant ruefully and turned to concentrate on the over-willing Tanya.

Wednesday

Rashmi's Wednesday started late. Around 11 pm. With a hangover. When half the city had gone to School or College or Office.

Rashmi had never gotten up so late ever and was even aware of a mild headache. But she was totally unaware of what had caused it.

With much effort, she pulled herself from her bed and observed herself in the mirror while brushing her teeth. She was not satisfied with what she saw in the mirror, except for the huge ring, of course.

Her face looked pale, there were a few patches on her cheeks, dark circles beneath her eyes and her hair looked so dull and lifeless. On other days, she would have merely washed her face with a herbal face wash and tied her hair in a pony and proceeded to check the mails on her laptop and concentrate on her work, giving a damn to her appearance.

But not today.

She decided to do something about it and marched into a high-profile beauty parlour which she had only admired from the outside but had never thought of venturing inside, fully aware of the exorbitant prices that they commanded.

She thought that she would be overwhelmed when she walked into the classy parlour.

To her surprise, the parlour felt very familiar to her and in no time, she felt totally at ease.

"A haircut or a facial, mam?" the beautician began.

"A total transformation!" Rashmi heard herself saying aloud.

"Which includes what?" The beautician wanted to know.

"Everything from head to toe. Gold facial, pedicure, manicure, hair colouring and styling, massage, threading, waxing, make-up, everything that you have got" Rashmi blurted out.

"I have heard that you are an expert in transformation and that many of your regular clients are err…….celebrities," Rashmi said.

The owner, a fat muscular lady named Ms Patricia, or Pat to her close ones, heard the coveted word 'transformation' (which costs steeply) and rushed to attend to Rashmi.

Pat nodded profusely.

"So let's see how good you are at your job." Rashmi smiled and almost threw a challenge at Pat.

Pat caught the challenge and at once commanded a team of beauticians to attend to Rashmi.

In no time, a team of beauticians was fawning over Rashmi. Some took charge of Rashmi's legs, others of her hands, some started the facial while others started work on her hair and make-up.

While Rashmi sat, like a Queen, on the huge chair, flipping the latest glossy gossip magazine, with her fingers, showing off the dazzling ring, with a confident body language, which proclaimed loudly that she always belonged here.

Four hours later when the beauticians were totally exhausted and Rashmi totally refreshed, Rashmi emerged out of the spa as a………….. 'totally transformed' person.

Why even she could not recognize herself when she viewed herself in the majestic queen-size mirror of the spa. Oh! Such are the marvels of make-up and hairdo!

Strangely, Rashmi not only looked different. She was even feeling different! Puzzled by her thoughts and feelings, Rashmi did something she had never dreamt of before.

She went to check out the much-talked Disco in her area.

It had a swanky decor, fusion music with the best DJ in the town, innovative cocktails, and a young hip crowd gyrating to the beats. It had ample space for fun and frolic. Rashmi had never once entered a disco in her life, but somehow everything here felt so familiar to her–the lights, the sounds, the ambience, the music, the crowd.

Why she even allow a perfect stranger, a guy with a scarfed head and tattooed arms, wearing a huge goggle and puffing a cigarette, to order tequila shots for her. On other occasions, she would never have accepted even a free Vada-Pav from her known and educated colleague, but here she was, drowning away shots after shots ordered by a totally unknown and dubious-looking stranger.

Of course, she was well-read and had read all about strangers in bars and discos catching their prey-usually women who are naïve and first-timers, using drinks which are spiked by them (with a little help from their bartender buddy of course!). But today, Rashmi couldn't care less. She merely tossed her newly perfumed and styled hair, pouted a kiss from her painted lips, even had the nerve to remove the cigarette from the tattooed stranger's lip, took a long puff and gravitated towards the disco floor, and danced, wildly and more wildly, her hands swinging and swaying high in the air, her hips and entire being dancing and prancing.

"Fast, ha!" was the tattooed stranger's comment.

Today, she continued to surprise herself!

Oh! She was so happy and her dance moves so naturally, so fluid that they even appeared practised, even choreographed!

Which was strange!

Rashmi had always been so shy about dancing. Yet today, she was so happy and comfortable with her drinking and dancing as if drinking and dancing had always been her strong points and her only reason to live. This was total bliss, her very own Heaven!

She was aware of the many small-time celebrities dancing and swaying near her. On other occasions, she would have felt lesser, inferior, even conscious of her middle-class life, but not today. Today, she felt as if she owned the floor, knew every nook and corner of the place, and that she had always commanded the leering attention that she was getting, was always high on the cocktails that she had had.

Moreover, with her magnificent appearance and above all her magnificent ring, she felt on par with the celebrities. She even allowed perfect strange men and even women to dance closely, sensuously with her, as if this lifestyle had been her second skin. She felt so comfortable as if she belonged here. As if the disc were her second home.

Even she was surprised that she had blended so completely with this hip crowd and ambience.

Why did she even surprise herself and the bartender when she ordered a rare cocktail that only a few knew about and even fewer could afford. The bartender looked at the ring, understood what it stood for and without a word, went on to prepare the rare and expensive cocktail.

Around midnight, Rashmi knew that she had become drunk for her speech had become slurred and meaningless; however she was sane enough to understand that many strangers were vying her, lecherous eyes were feasting on her slim figure and they were dying to get her into their bed. Thankfully, she had the presence of mind to tip the security guard and asked him to call a cab. In twenty minutes, Rashmi was in her home and bed and slept like a log.

Thursday

Once Rashmi entered the office, her Boss immediately told her that they had to attend an Export Conference at the city's five-star hotel. It was the first time for Rashmi that she would be representing her Company at the National Level and she wanted to believe that it was her hard work and patience that had finally paid off. Her colleagues and Aditi however failed to believe all that crap and had begun to associate her new appearance and attitude with her newfound success.

She was aware of her colleague's sneer and jealousy when she went with her Boss to the Five-Star Hotel.

Rashmi had never been to a Five-Star Hotel before, but once she entered the swanky lobby, she felt as if she always belonged there!

So familiar were the huge chandeliers, the unending sofa sets, the imported Persian carpets, the awesome paintings that adorned the walls, the bell-boys, and the receptionists, that she never felt that she was seeing them for the first time. Why, she even felt she had seen or knew most of the people hanging out in the lobby, all important and rich personalities. Even her walk was cool and comfortable, not the usual slow and unsure one of people when they are overwhelmed by their surroundings in a posh hotel or a luxury mall.

One look at Rashmi's attire complete with the huge ring and the hotel staff immediately knew who she was and how to treat her.

Rashmi's presentation went off well since she spoke and behaved like a winner and because of her attire, attitude, and ring, everyone treated her like a winner and a success.

Friday

Boss must have been mighty pleased with Rashmi's performance and presentation, for he assigned her to go to the International Airport to pick up an important client.

Usually, this job was left to Mr Sharma, Head of Exports. But this time, Rashmi had bagged the prestigious job and went off in the Company's luxury car to receive the foreign client, Mr Chang, Vice President, Exports of an important company.

Once again, Rashmi was strangely surprised that there were no awkward or unsure moments for her as she slid smoothly and obviously into the chauffer-driver luxury car. For eight long years, she had merely seen this chauffeur-driven luxury car from her office's window and wondered what it would be like to ride in it.

Here she was, riding her dream but not once feeling that it is a dream!

For it appeared to be a usual reality for her as if she had been driven around such a car for years and more!

Why she never once fumbled inside the car. She even expertly put on the TV with stereos placed especially for the passengers in the back seat and disappeared into the make-believe world of TV shows.

Once she reached the International Airport, a first-time for her, she was surprised that it did not take her breath away as it should have.

Again she felt as if she had been to the International Airport many times for she was surely behaving like one.

However, she knew for sure that she was seeing it for the first time. Was it then a case of deja-vu, a psychological moment when we feel that we have seen this place already even though we know that we are seeing it for the first time?

But then, oddly she was having this deja-vu so many times this week that she had almost lost count of it.

The rest of the day went off in a jiffy and by the time she reached home, she was bone tired.

Saturday

Rashmi got up excited since she had to attend the Kitty Party at 6 pm.

After a light lunch and light nap, she got ready for the much-awaited Kitty Party. She applied shimmer make-up, complete with shimmer blush and eyecare. After putting on a rich peacock green silk salwar kameez she tried on a Kundan necklace and earrings but felt that it would take away the attention from her huge ring, so decided against wearing any other jewellery. She wanted her ring to be the focus of attention. Satisfied with her appearance, she made her way to the Kitty Party.

The Kitty party at Mrs Sinha's place was as 'over-the-top' as Mrs Sinha herself. 

Whenever she entered Mrs Sinha's flat, Rashmi always got a feeling of an artificial atmosphere. Everything in the flat seemed artificial –from the furniture to the cutlery, to Mrs Sinha's hospitality!

Everything.

And it started with Mrs Sinha's smile itself.

So artificial that though her lips were correctly parted in a carefully crafted smile, her eyes would gaze on the other person from top to bottom. Sizing her up. Summing her up. Especially the other's social status.

The rest of the kitty party gang were also quick to evaluate Rashmi with their special scanner of eyes- Silk dress Rs. 4,000, lipstick: approximately Rs. 800 (must be a copy of some International brand), watch almost Rs. 6,000, goggles around be Rs. 8500 for they looked quite branded (though everyone secretly hoped that they too would be copies of the branded one) and the ring – well, well, well.

No one was quite sure of the ring and just kept on staring at it, unable to put a price on it. Despite their vast expertise in judging and evaluating other women, for once, they were stumped and they just could not judge and evaluate the ring.

Rashmi was enjoying their misery.

It was a small triumph for her. It was turning out to be even better than she had anticipated and Rashmi decided to make the most of it.

For throughout the party, she could be seen adjusting the curls of her hair with her left hand with the huge ring or laughing politely, face covered with her left hand, of course, to display her huge ring.

The Kitty Party gang were either too proud or too snobbish to ask her about the ring and wanted to treat it with an 'I don't give a damn attitude'. Much to Rashmi's dismay.

The party was just about to wind up when Mrs Mishra, a thirty-something and a newcomer to the Kitty Party gang, could not control herself and asked Rashmi about the huge ring.

Rashmi gloated with pure satisfaction. For that is what she had come for!

"It is a vintage piece…." Rashmi started. Many of the kitty party gang were busy acting as if they were least bothered and least interested in the ring but their ears were all perked up to hear about the ring.

Rashmi knew this very well and was choosing her words carefully.

"It is a vintage piece………..." Rashmi repeated loudly this time, with due emphasis on the word 'vintage'.

"Is it your ancestor's property?" Mrs Mishra popped up the question that everyone wanted to ask.

"No!" Rashmi smiled tossing back her pretty curls, "It is not my ancestral property. It is even more special. It might have belonged to a real Princess who owned it but had to sell it when she fell on bad times."

Rashmi could almost hear and smell the collective envy of the gang.

"A real Princess?" Mrs Mishra gasped loudly to the pleasure of Rashmi.

"Wow! It must be really expensive…!" Mrs Mishra, at last, asked what the Kitty Party gang wanted to know.

"No……. no not really. It was a real steal. Just five thousand bucks! I bought it from a famous second-hand antique shop!" Rashmi said finishing off her explanation with a victorious smile.

"Second-hand antique shop….." Rashmi could hear the collective whispers from the snobbish Kitty Party gang.

And almost heard a collective sigh of relief in the air, for the gang took little time to realize that this second-hand ring was no competition for their original stuff and they now no longer felt threatened by the huge ring.

"Second-hand antique shop….." Mrs Mishra muttered slowly to herself, troubled as she was with some thought that she could not put her fingers on.

After a long while, she spoke to Rashmi "Rashmi, I don't want to be mean. But one should never buy from a second-hand antique shop."

Rashmi looked at Mrs Mishra, who Rashmi felt was struggling with herself for some reason.

For Mrs Mishra alone was giving her any attention, while the rest of the gang were now looking away from the ring and Rashmi……….for they were felt that both Rashmi and the ring were not much important.

Rashmi looked ignored and hurt.

Maybe she had made a total fool of herself.

Thank God, the ladies had the curtsy not to laugh on her face, but she was sure they will be laughing back on their way home or on their WhatsUp groups.

Rashmi felt herself reddening. She had made a total mess of the situation which she was so beautifully commanding today.

"Rashmi…." Mrs Mishra began addressing Rashmi slowly, "Call me superstitious if you like but my parents always taught me that people always leave a trace of their personality, their astitiva, which is a part of their existence and their identity on the goods that they use. When someone buys these goods, some of the original owner's personality, astitiva gets transferred to the new buyer. The impact of this may be either good or bad." She paused, and it was evident that she was struggling with herself to blurt out the whole truth.

Finally, when she could not control herself any longer, Mrs Mishra whispered "And …………..and diamonds and precious stones are most susceptible to absorbing and transmitting behaviours and characteristics from one person to another……….."

"In other words, when I wear this ring……….my personality will become like the personality of the original owner of this ring?" Rashmi wondered.

"Yes!" Mrs Mishra said so simply and firmly that Rashmi believed her.

As she drove off from the Kitty Party in a cab, Rashmi decided to visit the Second-hand shop owner on the way.

Rohanlal recognized Rashmi at once, for very few bought jewellery from him.

Rashmi entered the shop and at once shot the question, almost accusingly at Rohanlal "Who? Who was the owner of this ring? You did not tell me anything about the owner of this ring

"Because you never let me explain. You liked the ring so much that you bought it straight away" Rohanlal soothing answer was almost apologetically.

His tone became even more apologetic as he proceeded to answer Rashmi's question.

"This ring belonged to a famous high-profile escort, a prostitute who had to sell it when she fell on bad times".

Rashmi did not wait for Rohanlal to give the name of the prostitute or any more details.

Suddenly it all becomes so clear to her.

Everything came back to her in a flash.

Her flirting with Mr Ahujawala, the unbuttoning of her shirt, her transformation to a sexy avatar, her readiness to date Nishant, her luxurious spa session, the ease with which she danced and mingled in the disco as if she always belonged there, her familiarity with the cocktails and with tattooed strangers, her sudden comfort while riding in the company's luxury car, her comfortable conduct in the five-star hotel as if it was her second home, her déjà vu so many times that it could not possibly be a coincidence, her sensuous attire and attitude and her blatant acceptance of her sensuality, her 'I don't care a damn attitude' to lecherous eyes that trailed her, as if she was so used to it that it has become her second skin…………….. Her drinking, her dancing, her dating…..and her unapologetic acceptance of her behaviour.

Suddenly she realized.

It was not her. Her personality.

It was a different personality that had taken over her this week!

A high-class prostitute's personality! 

With a vengeance and a sob, Rashmi threw out the huge ring, from the car.

And closed her eyes, wanting desperately to wash off the incidents of the past week.

But, visions of the past week continued to flash past her, shaming her with Mrs Mishra's meek voice in the background telling her "Second-hand goods carry the personality, the astitiva.....a part of the existence and identity of the original owner………and diamonds and precious stones are most susceptible to absorbing and transmitting behaviours and characteristics from the one person to another………….."