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“Anjali…”

“They belonged to Chandravati,” her mother had whispered, her eyes darting to the window as if expecting someone to leap through. “Your great-grandmother. She wore them the night she vanished.” gold earrings jhumkas

Jingle-jingle-jingle. Pause. Jingle.

Anjali, a rational woman in her thirties who worked at an insurance firm in the city, dismissed the tale as folklore. But the moment she hooked the jhumkas through her earlobes, a chill ran down her spine. They felt warm. Alive. “Anjali…” “They belonged to Chandravati

Anjali read the letter twice. Then a third time. Her cousin’s car honked in the distance. She looked at the road, then at the darkening forest behind the banyan tree. ” her mother had whispered