The Anklet in the Attic

“Is there an anklet up in the attic room?” Maya asked her aunt. 

Ammayi who was serving dinner stood transfixed, her hands poised midair with a scoop of rice on the steel ladle. “How do you know about the anklet?” she asked, her voice shaky. 

“What anklet?” Shambhu asked. 

Ammayi smiled nervously and sat down.

“What anklet?” Shambhu repeated, this time a little displeased and incensed that a secret was kept from him by his own mother about some anklet in the attic of a house that he grew up! And his cousin Maya, the upstart visiting from England, knew about it.

 “It’s an old story. And a long one,” Ammayi said looking at her son and niece. 

Leaning back comfortably on the chair, Maya said dramatically, “Perfect. Young’s the night. If you could tell us an old long story, we couldn’t ask for anything more. 

Ammayi sighed deeply and said, “I was 8 when it happened. One morning, my father set off to a Bala Bhadra temple--the shrine of the little goddess. The temple, deep in the forests of the Western Ghats, is opened just once every year on the day of Bharani in the summer. And the tribal deity would be taken on a palanquin by the forest dwellers. And my father wanted to say his prayers when the deity was taken out of her stony abode. The belief was that if you prayed at that auspicious hour, then the prayer would be answered by the goddess.” 

“What did he want to pray for?” Maya asked, engrossed in the story. 

Ammayi’s eyes were tinged with a forgotten sadness. After a moment or two, she replied, “My little brother was very sick at that time.” 

The children had heard of Kelu, who died when he was 5. 

“Did grandfather get there on time?”Shambhu’s voice still carried a tinge of betrayal. 

Ammayi smiled at Shambhu that reminded Maya of a beautiful crescent moon peeping from behind rainclouds that had just emptied themselves. 

Ammayi shook her head. “This pilgrimage, he was told, had to be undertaken on foot. So he left weeks before the palanquin festival and after a few days of walk and rest reached a village at the foot of Western Ghats at night. There were no inns to spend the night. So he tried to sleep on the verandah of a local tavern. But the place was too noisy, and he couldn’t sleep a wink. At night, the tavern owner gave him precise directions to the temple: once he reaches the fork near a well, he was to take the unpaved path that went around a rock shaped like an elephant’s back." 

Ammayi continued, "Before daybreak, my father set out to the temple. The mountain path was narrow and said to be frequented by leopards and bears. With the goddess’s name on his lips, he started his climb up. It was still dark. The stainless steel flashlight made a small circle of brightness on the dry leaves and vines and creepers on the mossy path. Outside the circle, darkness reigned. 

“My father thought he heard the soft sounds of bells on an anklet muffled by a heavily embroidered skirt.  He was relieved that there were others on the mountain path, not just him. The sun came up and in a few hours shone mercilessly on him. Father, exhausted from hunger and lack of sleep, lost his way. When he finally found the elephant-back rock, the sun was setting behind the hills. Birds were raucously flying to their nests.

"Night had fallen as he finally reached the temple grounds; crickets were chirping away. The temple premises were deserted. There were wild jasmine and hibiscus flowers on the floor that might have fallen off from the offerings of the devotees. The goddesses' stony abode was empty. Hours ago, the deity was taken out on a palanquin and the small procession of people had gone down the other side of the hill. 

"Dejected, father sat down in front of the temple. It was a small natural cave with an intricately carved granite façade, imposing in its artistic finesse. Guarding the carved wooden door to the sanctum were statuettes of warriors with huge bosoms and bison heads with fangs. 

"My father spread his cotton shawl near the temple awning ready to spend the night. “Once again, he heard the bells of the anklet. He looked around and could see no one. Then, a hand as cool and fragrant as sandalwood touched his shoulder lightly. He turned around to see a little girl of 5 or 6 years. She was dark, her skin a shimmering granite hue. She had a small shapely nose and an exquisite mouth. But her eyes were her most beautiful feature. They were at once delightful and fearful to look into. He felt like they were gorgeous gorges that he would fall into if he kept staring into them. She wore a short traditional top of expensive silk and a heavily embroidered skirt. The girl wore no jewelry, other than a pair of anklets on her feet and a pendant of double tiger nails strung on a black thread around her neck. 

"The little girl said kindly, ‘you missed the palanquin. You know what that means, don’t you?’ My father shook his head. She continued, ‘Kelu is coming back to my hillock because he has nothing to bind him down there in your world. Why keep him there in misery, when he and I can play here.’  

Father looked at her intrigued. Her words didn’t make much sense to him then. He only looked upon her as a wild child, terrifyingly beautiful. 

"‘You can’t sleep here’ she touched his shoulder again as he was slipping away into a wistful sleep. 

‘I’m too tired to walk downhill,’ my father said. 

The little girl sat down next to him and took one of her anklets  off and tied it around his right wrist. Lowering her voice, she said, ‘There are others here who could harm you. They are waiting for me to leave. But this anklet will protect you. Wear it until you reach the valley.’ 

Dozing off, he dreamt of nightmarish figures of two-legged bisons with fangs and claws. They were dancing on the temple grounds. Earth trembled under their giant hoofs. Sun was rising when he woke up from the nightmare. 

My father went down the hill as fast as he could. He ran until he reached the tavern in the valley. Only then did he notice the anklet jingling quietly around his wrist.” 

Ammayi paused and served the children more rice absentmindedly. “Father brought the anklet home. I overheard him share the story with my mother. I saw them weep quietly sitting at the edge of the bed where Kelu was sleeping peacefully, his skin mottled with blisters.   

"Later that day, my father kept the anklet in a jewelry box in the attic and padlocked the door. At night we heard the anklet jingling...like someone was wearing it and dancing wildly with great abandon. That night Kelu breathed his last." Ammayi said, her eyes distant. 

Shambhu reached over the table and squeezed his mom's hand. 

"Is the anklet still up there in the attic?" he asked, eyeing the attic uncertainly.

Ammayi shook her head. "We opened the attic door after my father passed away and found the empty jewelry box covered in dust and cobwebs." 

"How do you know about the anklet, anyways?" Shambhu turned to Maya.

Maya replied, her voice now a quaking whisper, "Last night, I heard the jingling of the anklet coming from the attic. A little girl came to me in a dream and asked, 'Do you want to come out and play?'"