The Handkerchief

A pile of fabrics started to pool together on the floor of the Akshaya Silk Store, each one more crumpled than the last. A flustered Shalin ran her hands through the display shelf, flinging a few more shirts behind her, adding them to the pile. Once it was emptied, she shot back up, taking in a sharp breath. She touched her forehead, anticipating a looming dizziness, only to let out an exasperated cry.

From the counter, a teenage girl sheepishly rose, watching her grandmother in a mix of awe and horror. Chandi had never seen her act like this before. Perfectly good displays were left in tatters, bunched-up fabrics lined the space between shelves. Sure, Shalin had been upset with Chandi on countless occasions, but it was never like this. What had warranted such a rampage? The teenager slid out from behind the counter, gingerly approaching the bundle of nerves that had become her grandmother.

“Naani,” she said softly, prompting Shalin to freeze. “Are you okay?”

Shalin’s cheeks burned pink as she turned to face her granddaughter. She lowered her head as she sank to the ground. “Oh, dear, I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know you were coming in today.”

Chandi rubbed the back of her neck. “Well, I had noticed you weren’t home, so I figured you’d be here.”

Shalin sighed. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I was just fulfilling a few orders we didn’t get to yesterday.” She stopped to look around the shop, taking in the damage she had done. “But instead, it seems I’ve made quite the mess.”

“Is there anything I can help with?” Chandi asked, tilting her head.

“That won’t be necessary, dear. Unless you’ve seen my handkerchief around,” Shalin sank further into the ground.

Chandi’s eyes darted to a nearby shelf upon the mention of a handkerchief. Of course, she knew the one she was talking about. That lavender cloth was a favorite of hers. It seemed to calm her when things got hectic around the store. Now that she noticed, Shalin was fidgeting with her hands. Chandi was starting to get the picture. Fortunately, the remaining piece of the puzzle was just in sight. Chandi knelt to the ground, fishing out a dust-covered fabric from under the shelf.

“You mean *this* handkerchief?” she questioned, holding the rag between the tips of her finger and thumb. Shalin’s eyes lit up as held open her hands, allowing Chandi to drop it into them. A wave of relief washed over the old woman as she whipped the dust off of the fabric.

“What would I do without your keen eye?” the woman sang as she hugged her granddaughter, who seemed initially surprised at the sudden sign of affection. Though she accepted the embrace all the same.

As Shalin seemingly came back to her senses, she surveyed the room once more, clicking her tongue. She made a beeline to her broom and dustpan, intent on cleaning up the mess she had made of her shop. Chandi moved to help her, only to be met by her grandmother’s iron glare. She raised her hands halfway in surrender, knowing full well how stubborn her grandmother was. When she set her mind on something, that was that. Besides, Shalin was always particular about her displays. This was a mess probably best left to her.
---
As Shalin folded away a pair of trousers, Chandi was mindlessly swiping through her phone. She had anticipated the cleanup process taking some time, but she had forgotten how detailed her grandmother could be, as she made little adjustments to the hanging of a particular scarf. The teenager stifled a groan as she closed her phone, tapping on the countertop she had been leaning on. A growing sense of boredom was gnawing at her, but there was one thing racing through her mind that kept her from nodding off. Sliding her phone into her pocket, Chandi pushed herself off of the counter, as she approached her grandmother once more.

“Hey, Naani,” she said plainly, causing her grandmother to face her. “How long have you had that cloth?”

For a moment, Shalin stopped what she was doing, tilting her head as if to recall something. She hemmed and hawed, until settling on “ever since I was a little girl.”

Chandi blinked. “Really?”

“It was a gift from my grandfather,” Shalin recalled, leaning her broom against a nearby shelf. “When I was your age, well, closer to around Din’s age, actually, I never really had many friends. None you could actually call ‘close’, anyways.”

“That’s horrible, Naani,” Chandi frowned.

Shalin chuckled. “Not for a lack of trying, mind. But it was always hard. After all, how can you expect to form any lasting friendships when you didn’t know if you’d see them again in a month?”

Chandi watched as her grandmother dusted off a seat nearby, holding her skirt as she sat. Chandi took a seat on the floor, feeling that her grandmother was about to get into another story. She continued.

“My parents, your great-grandparents, traveled often,” Shalin stated plainly.

“My father, your Great-Grandpa Rahul, had trouble finding work, let alone keeping it once he had it. Thankfully, I was able to visit my grandparents in Rakinnagarh during particularly rough moves. It gave my parents time to settle into their new lives and I got to spend time with my dadi and dada.”

The teenager perked up. This wasn’t too unlike her own situation. Shalin nodded.

“It was around that time when we were preparing for another move: a small village on the edge of Lamlai. It was our longest trip yet, and worse, there was hardly anyone there! I remember protesting as much to my mother, your Great-Grandma Uma. But she wouldn’t hear it.”

The old woman scowled, raising her hand up like a statue. Chandi couldn’t help but crack a smile. Her grandmother’s stories were always far more entertaining than a simple retelling. Shalin resumed.

“You see, I had started making some friends in the city we were living in, though I suppose in hindsight that was a mistake. I knew how these things went, of course,” her eyes dropped. “Perhaps I was hoping it would be different this time.”

After taking a pause, the old woman released a heavy breath. “Well, anyways, I was sent off to Rakinnagarh while my parents made their final arrangements. It was during this visit when my grandfather handed me this handkerchief.”

Shalin laid the cloth out flat in her hands. “Perhaps he could sense the weight on my shoulders, or maybe he was tired of giving me his own cloth. I guess I’ll never truly know,” she smiled.

“I fell in love instantly,” she spoke softly, gazing at the lavender cloth. “Its color, its sheen. It was soft to the touch, yet durable enough to endure a torrent of sweat in a particularly humid Assamese monsoon season.”

Her violet eyes glowed as she spoke, filled with a youth Chandi had never seen from her grandmother. “His craftsmanship was unparalleled. You could feel his love and care woven all throughout his fabrics. This was no exception.”

After a moment of brief silence, Shalin stood up, taking up the broom back in hand.

“When I returned to Lamlai, I didn’t feel nearly as upset as I had imagined I would. I had often pondered why that was the case. Nothing changed about my situation. It was the same, worn-down town, with maybe a handful of children my age running around. And yet, I didn’t feel lonely.”

As the old woman swept all the dust she had kicked up just a few minutes before, Shalin took inventory of the state of the shop, that youthful look lingering still.

“Perhaps it was that ‘love’ which I had been carrying with me since that day. That very ‘love’ that I still carry with me.”

After checking her work, she set the broom upright against a corner of the store, then glided back towards her granddaughter, who had remained seated, following right along with the story. As the old woman offered up a hand, Chandi smiled, accepting her help to get back onto her feet. Shalin met her granddaughter’s grin with one of her own. “And because of that ‘love’, I haven’t felt truly alone in years.”

She placed a gentle hand onto Chandi, taking the other to brush aside a stray piece of hair that was lingering in her eyes. “That’s the important thing about love, dear. It requires attention and care. So long as you can hold onto it, preserve it, it will last you for many more years to come. It will never leave your side.”