The Heirloom

by Rukmini Attygalle

Standing on tip toe, Premila reached for the small box hidden under the pile of neatly stacked saris on the top shelf of her wardrobe. She kept it separate from the rest of her jewelry. She peeked at it occasionally. Take it out of the velvet box, polish the pendant with a soft cloth, put the necklace on, and admire herself in the mirror.

In Sri Lanka, she was able to show it off at numerous weddings, engagement parties, and other special gatherings; but here in London, such occasions were rare. Premila remembered the emeralds sparkle on her grandmother’s neck. Now the necklace was hers! She wished she had a daughter who would love it as much as she did and enjoy wearing it after she was no more. Now, she must pass it on to her grand- daughter via her daughter -in-law. The trouble was she did not have one -as yet. Sanjay at 35 was still a bachelor with no signs of a future daughter-in-law in the horizon.

This caused Premila anxiety; but there was no support from Gamini. “Let Putha just be – for God’s sake. He will settle down in his own time. He is a grown man!”

“Exactly!” the dog startled and cocked up his ears. “Yes! Bury your nose in your books and forget the rest of the world including your only son!” Premila huffed. “You should talk to Sanjay about the importance of getting married before it is too late. What sort of a father are you?”

“An uninterfering one.” Taking a deep pull on his pipe, Gamini laid back in his chair and closed his eyes. Premila was about to return the precious box to its hiding place when the phone rang. Gamini will answer – he is downstairs, Premila closed the wardrobe door.

“Prem…Putha called” yelled Gamini. “He is coming to London next Saturday. Will he be here for lunch I suppose so I didn’t ask.”

“You should have asked!”

“By the way, he said he was bringing someone he wants us to meet.”

“Who?”

“Don’t know. He didn’t say.”

“And needless to say, you didn’t ask!”

“No. But, I think it could be someone special.”

Premila’s annoyance at Gamini’s lack of interest and curiosity did not overshadow her excitement. This was the best news she heard for a long time. Yes, there had been a few girls he had brought home for curry meals during his undergraduate days. Sanjay always insisted they were “just friends”. Premila was not born yesterday! One of the girls was an Indian. Why would an Indian girl go out to eat curry when she probably ate it every day at home?

Premila had noticed the girl’s sly glances at her son. She was good looking too. Slim and tall with big eyes and a long neck. She would carry off the necklace with panache! However, nothing came of it. Premila had given up hopes of getting a Sri Lankan daughter-in-law long ago. Sanjay was born in England and lived in a cosmopolitan society and, as Gamini pointed out, it was unrealistic for Sri Lankan parents to expect their children to marry their own kind. She had deliberately curbed her imaginings of the necklace on Sri Lankan necks. Premila had with Gamini’s help, broadened her vision over the years and was now able to see beyond the narrow confines of “us” and “them.”

What she really wanted was a girl who would love her son and make him happy. She and Gamini both agreed that what mattered most was Sanjay’s happiness. “I am so excited Gamini, I can’t wait for Saturday! Shall I call Putha and ask for details of the girl?”

“No don’t! you will see her in two days. What’s the great hurry?”

“I have done the prep in the kitchen department and the house is ship shape. I just don’t know what to do now.”

“Go for a walk and calm down!”

Saturday arrived. Premila kept running to the window every few minutes. She noticed that one of her flower arrangements had toppled. Frantically she put it right just as the bell rang. She quickly checked her hair in the hall mirror and opened the door. “Hi Amma!” Sanjay hugged, his mother. His shoulders blocked Premila’s view although she craned her neck to see the figure behind him. “Thatha is here too I hope,” Sanjay took a few steps into the house as Gamini came with outstretched arms towards his son.

A tall well-built man stood before Premila, with tattooed arms, well-trimmed beard, and hair tied back in a pony-tail. Her body jerked as she involuntarily took a sharp in- breath. Something inside her jarred and needed to be clinked back into place. “Hello Mrs. Amarasena – I am Bruno. So glad to meet you…”

“Yes…yes so am I.”

She was surprised to hear her own voice. Her innate politeness had taken control over her conscious mind. “Do come in” and guided him into the living room in a dream-like state.

“I brought you something which I hope you will like. Sanjay has been talking about your passion for flower arranging.”

“Thank you.”

As they sat down, she noticed that Bruno was eagerly awaiting her response and she opened the neatly wrapped parcel. “Oh! how lovely! I’ve always admired the Japanese art of flower arranging and wanted to learn Ikebana…” Premila’s genuine delight brightened Bruno’s face and she saw joy in his eyes.

Premila overheard Gamini in the background talking to Sanjay in Sinhala. “Of course, Putha we understand. All we want is, for you to be happy.”

Premila was slowly regaining her equilibrium; but conversation was not coming easily to her. She listened to the others, nodding and smiling her way through while her fantasies of grand weddings and granddaughters slowly subsided. She knew deep down, that if she wanted to be in her son’s life, she would have to accept him as he is, not as she wanted him to be.

She must accept the reality of Sanjay’s sexuality. Premila tried to talk but her throat was too dry. She noticed Bruno’s good looks and more importantly his pleasant manner and good humour; and willed herself to warm towards him. She noticed the glow on Sanjay’s face. One thing she was sure about – Bruno would look ridiculous with the emeralds round his neck. She would have to find another recipient.

(Rukmini Attygalle’s debut collection of short stories Of Sarees and Grapefruit is now available at all good bookshops)