Diamonds are a girl’s best friend….or not

I never understood the diamond-fixation most women seem to have. They are so damn small no matter how much they cost, are barely visible when worn, appear dangerously similar to crystal or something even cheaper (I’m not going to say shards of glass…I’m not going to say shards of glass) AND cause untold heartache when stolen/lost/smaller than your neighbour’s.

I’d always thought that’s way too much fuss to be wasted on old crystallized rocks. I’d thought jewellery should be big, bold and beady. I HAD always thought..

The story goes something like this…August ‘06 Bangalore. Launch of a luxury jewellery house’s new collection-a young, inexperienced and a rather intimidated me was walking around the venue watching, in amusement, the air-kissing and the ‘hello dah’lins’, and in awe, the brilliant display of jewellery I never though I could afford…not for a long time at least. It was not my world- I did not relate to it, didn’t want to either..I’d felt out of place, tired, atrociously bored..hating the wine and wanting to go back to a frothy mug of draught beer and masala peanuts..I was only a week into my first job and stubbornly missed college, had no orientation and was wondering why they asked me to attend this la-di-dah thingie in the first place…Thought I can’t do luxury, can’t do the job, can’t make it on my own…you get the drift…I wasn’t having a very good time.

October 9, 2007. I was loaded! Oh, its such a grand feeling. An year of savings, all together, in my hands. I quickly made a list of people I owed money to and calculated….#$%^& minus ^&^%*….Yippee..I still had $$$$$ left!

An Ipod maybe…or perhaps a nice camera to digitally catalogue my life. My mum shook her head…she was on phone from Delhi, but I swear I saw a frown and a hint of disgust at my plans. ‘Buy yourself something solid’ was the suggestion/order.

Oh-Kay..though I was sure a gizmo would not miraculously vapourize and not be ’solid’ anymore, I made up my mind to go shopping, for something ‘blingy’ and ‘heirloom-able’. I went to the boutique of the very same jewellery house and briefly enjoyed the taste of luxury I’d written about in press releases, for an year. I sauntered, stopped, considered, pointed, narrowed my eyes, shook my head and sauntered on some more..I took my time, baby! Sometime during the deliciously slow walk through the boutique, I stopped at the display case where the collection with which I started my career, gazed back seductively. Ooh, it was a game of mating, I tell you. What a difference an year had made. Back then, I was one of the preys of a dazzlingly beautiful object. Now I was the predator.

I slipped on the very same ring which had made me feel underprivileged roughly an year back. For the first time I noticed the subtle sheen of gold, the exotic colour of the faded pink sapphires and the striking brilliance of the single diamond at the centre. Tiny, but simply beautiful. I bought it and it was mine.

There’s more to the ring than its price tag. Every time I look at it, there’s a sense of achievement. It feels like a pay-back for all the times I felt that I should pack my bags and go home, give up; all the times I had bananas for dinner because I was so broke; all the times I longed for that gorgeous dress at the mall and didn’t buy it simply because I couldn’t. For the year I spent calculating how much money I was left with, for the rest of the month. For all the times spent wondering if I was wasting my time, wondering if I should just go back to studying coz’ I’m probably too young to work. For all the self-doubt, self-pity and self-destruction.

Someone asked me if it’s a present from a pampering boyfriend. I’d said I don’t need a man to buy me diamonds. What a feeling!