The Locket
The locket in Sameera’s hand shone like a shining star fallen right out of the sky. The longer she held it, the more powerful she felt in her soul. The locket was shaped like a sun, not the ordinary sun we know of, but a very elaborate sun. The centerpiece of the locket was a large diamond. Samira had no idea how much it was worth, but it looked very expensive. Surrounding the diamond, there were concentric circles of small diamonds, which shone so brightly as she studied the locket. She was certainly impressed by it. Sameera was just startled by the locket.
She remembered when her uncle had given it to her on her wedding day. He had mentioned how he purchased the locket as part of the Kohi-noor collection before India was separated from Pakistan. Her uncle had been working there as part of the British regiment, and his travels with them all over Indian gave him opportunities to see and explore part of the country which he never would have done so. Part of his journey included witnessing the Kohinoor Jewelry collection, of which the equivalent would be the Crown Jewels at the Tower of London. He has purchased this locket from that collection, at a price that he would not mention, for his wife. Ever since she passed away, she had willed the locket to Sameera on her wedding day.
So overwhelmed was Sameera with her locket, she did not understand how she should thank her uncle. “Take real good care of it,” was all he could say. She realized immediately then that there is more to this locket than just diamonds. Her husband Omar, a simple man, while in awe of the locket, did not take a liking to it. He came from a very simple family with modest means. It was his intelligence and creativity that led him to be a prestigious marketing executive, leading him to travel to all the places he could only dream of. Despite his prestigious position, he held on to his roots, and rooted himself into ground reality. He made sure to not let all the wealth go to his head.
Omar did cringe a little when he saw the amazing locket in Sameera’s hands. His eyes were truly transfixed on them. He too appreciated Sameera’s uncle for gifting her such an expensive gift. It’s not a gift, the uncle would say, it’s more like a family heirloom. It was now months after the wedding that Samira took the locket out for the first time. She had stored it away in a safe place, deep inside her cupboard in her newly renovated walk in closet. She was sure no one would find it. Tonight, she just sat there alone in the closet, holding the locket in her hands, thinking of the unthinkable.
Sameera’s husband did not like it the least bit that she was wearing the locket when he returned from his long business trip. I must cut down on my travels, he had thought to himself on his way over from the airport. Sameera and Omar fought for a long time the whole night. She wanted to continue to wear the locket, and he wanted her to remove it. Ultimately, they came to the conclusion that she should wear it only on special occasions. She relented. Little did Omar know that as soon he slipped out of the house for work, she would take the locket out and wear it. She wore it when she showered. She wore it when she made breakfast, and did her house cleaning. She wore it while grocery shopping, and visiting friends. She wore it while watching television and even while taking naps in the afternoon. She would be careful to remove it and place it back in the box in the closet before Omar came back.
Sameera didn’t know when the sensation first begun, but she knew it was immediately after she had begun to wear the locket.
Why do I feel so powerful, she thought? Why do I feel so invincible? She could not explain her feelings, and her emotions. She chose not to tell Omar initially but eventually did when her emotions would run too high. He did not appreciate her breaking their pact, and was upset, but Omar tried to help Samira out. He could not explain what was going on with her. Sameera would act all weird if the locket was off. It was as if she needed to have it on the whole time, which made Omar all the more helpless and confused.
“We must see a doctor,” Omar finally said. “My best friend Samir is a doctor, so we can keep it confidential.”
Sameera refused.
“But it’s my best friend, Samir, and he is one of the best in town. He will help you.”
She did not want to share her thoughts, feeling with anyone out there. Omar became frustrated. So overwhelmed was Sameera with the locket around her neck continuously, she stopped meeting people, or even shopping for groceries.
Omar contacted the uncle who had given the locket initially and inquired about his wife.
“How did she die?” Omar asked.
The uncle initially refused to talk, but succumbed to Omar’s pressure, and agreed to meet him during lunch break. The uncle was very reluctant to share the details, but after hearing what Sameera had been through, he felt compelled to tell what had happened to his own wife. Apparently, as Omar came to realize, the locket has a wild and unbelievable history.
The uncle’s wife received the locket from her grandmother who belonged to the Mughal Empire that ruled India in the 1800s. Her grandmother wore the locket. Her husband, Badshaah, the King, gave it to her. Because the King had remarried another woman, to keep the first wife happy he gave her a very expensive locket. She was not very happy with the decision, but was temporarily happy with the locket. I can always sell it off and get the money, she thought. But she realized that her husband was spending more and more time with his new, younger wife, leaving herself feel dejected. She was not happy and confronted the King several times. The King was not happy, and had her locked in the dungeon, completely surrounded with thick brick walls, with no sunlight.
It was then she realized she had the locket around her neck, and used that as a visual sunlight. Tilting the locket to a certain angle, she was able to reflect off the light from the candle flames in her dungeon to create a startling effect of reflections on the ceiling. It helped served her pass her time. Several years in the dungeon, she was entering into a state of madness. When the guard who had bought her food was temporarily blinded by the strong reflection off her locket, she made a grab for him and pinned him to the ground using her body weight. Hitting his head on the floor, the guard fell unconscious, and she grabbed the sword from his belt and ran. There was only one place she was going: the King. Entering the dining hall, with disheveled hair and unkempt clothes, the guests screamed and shot up from their seats. The King, at the head of the table, turned around to see behind him. Before he could say anything, the woman brought her sword up and with all her mighty strength, swung it hard. Blood shot out from the now severed neck, as the head hung limply. A botched execution. All the woman could do was laugh maniacally to the point where she was shot with a shotgun by one of the guard.
Omar sat bewildered throughout.
“Surely that cannot be true,” he said to the uncle.
“Well,” said the uncle, “that’s how the legend goes. I cannot testify to what the truth is, but this story is what my wife had told me. Now I am telling it to you so you know what is happening to your wife. I fear she may be going through what my wife went through.”
“What did happen to your wife,” Omar asked.
“I am not sure if I should tell you the grisly details, but let’s just say that overwhelming power of the locket consumed her and grabbed her soul. It was as if her grandmother took possession of her soul through the locket. She eventually committed suicide after hurting our children. She nearly drowned them in the baths.”
Omar gasped. He didn’t know what to believe. I must get home and remove the locket from my wife. That was all he could think of. He dashed home, to find his wife sleeping on her bed, sweating profusely. He made an attempt to remove the locket, but her hand shot up and held Omar’s arm tightly, so much so, it was hurting him now.
“Sameera! Sameera!” He shouted to no effect. He picked up the bottle of water from the side table and doused her completely in water. She fell back down in the bed, uttering profanities. Omar did not know what to do with Sameera. It was becoming extremely difficult to remove the locket. I should have known right from the start that the locket is wrong. I felt uncomfortable looking at it the minute Sameera held it in her hands. What have I gotten myself into?
Over the course of the next few weeks, Omar had no choice but to have his wife admitted into a center where sick people were treated. The doctors could not help her. Even his personal friend, Samir, the doctor eventually diagnosed her as mentally unstable.
“How can a locket do something like this Samir?” Omar asked him.
“Sometimes people like to believe in superstitions and other legends, and when they believe in them so whole heartedly, their mind can take control of their body and soul. She has apparently convinced herself that the same woman who originally had the locket has possessed her.”
Omar left discontent. He did not know what to do.
4 months later.
Omar never forgot his ex-wife. He filed for divorce against his wife, whom even the doctor had proclaimed insane and mentally unfit. Omar was not happy about it, but he was a little relieved hedid not have to deal with a sick person. It has been four months, and while he remembers Sameera everyday, today was the day when he felt like visiting her in the hospital. As he was eating his breakfast, he decided to call in sick at work, and drove over to the asylum, where his wife was supposedly admitted.
Omar wished his friend Samir was still here so he could brisk through the security. But Samir was transferred to the Koh-Samui Island in Thailand. Omar was forced to have his car checked by the security guards at the gate, walk through the metal detector, and fill in the visitor book.
“Whom are you here for,” the receptionist asked?
“My wife,” Omar paused. “My ex-wife. Her name is Sameera Omar, but I think it may be have been reverted to Sameera Ali now.”
“We don’t have a record of a Sameera Ali, or Sameera Omar here sir,” the receptionist said checking through the computer database.
“What? There must be a mistake,” Omar said, please check again.
“Hold on sir while I get our senior nurse here.”
Omar fidgeted a lot with his car keys. Is Sameera dead? What happened? Where did she go? His car keys fell to the ground when Dr. Miriam, the senior head nurse, instantly interrupted him in his thoughts.
“Are you here for Sameera,” asked Dr. Miriam.
“Yes, I am,” Omar replied.
“What is the nature of your relation to Sameera?”
“ I am her husband, well, ex-husband now for 4 months.”
“Well, sir, I am most pleased to tell you that Sameera fully recovered and left town.”
Omar did not know what happened first: the floor beneath his legs fall away, or him hitting his head on the edge of the cushioned chair. When he regained conscious, he saw himself facing the ceiling lights. He knew he was lying on the stretcher.
“What happened?!” he shouted, and got up from the bed. Dr. Miriam came running down from the main desk.
“Sir, it’s all right, you just had a brief fainting spell. You are all right now.”
“What did you say about Sameera, Dr?”
“Sir, I have a note for you which was left by Sameera. Please feel free to use my office to read it.”
Omar made his way through the corridor, lined with green linoleum. The strong antiseptic smell was hitting him hard now. He sat down at the desk and opened up the envelope.
It read:
Dear Omar,
This is probably the hardest letter I have had to write my entire life. I don’t know where to begin or what to say. If you are reading this letter, I am sure you will know by now that I am not here in the hospital. I left as soon as you had dropped me here.
I am sorry I have lived a big lie in front of you. Actually, I think our marriage was a huge lie. You were not the man I had married all those years ago. You were a different person before I married you. I don’t know what happened, but you had changed. I thought it was normal at first, but then, despite my reasoning with you (which always ended up in arguments anyways) I could get through to you. I knew right from the start that our marriage was a doomed one. I wish I had the power to turn back the clock and reverse our marriage.
You may be wondering about the locket too.
I have left that in the safety box with Dr. Miriam. It was of no use to me anymore, although it was very beneficial at the time. I know you will be very upset at me, but I saw no other way out of this marriage. Feel free to take it from Dr. Miriam.
I had paid uncle a lot of money to help me get out of the marriage. I had paid him a lot of money. As you know already, uncle was not doing well after his wife’s death, so he needed the money the most. He was only happy to help me out. The whole locket thing was fabricated. I had spent weeks planning out how to work everything out. The locket is a cheap locket, which I got from the novelty store. Uncle’s wife never had the locket, his wife was never sick and she never attempted to drown her kids. Uncle was in India, but he never traveled around extensively.
The elaborate story of the origin of the locket was a hoax. I am sorry I misled you into believing I was being possessed by the locket. I sure picked up a few acting lessons watching TV.
I hope you are not mad at uncle. It is not his fault. I was the one who coaxed him into this because he needed the money. Please don’t go say anything to uncle. If anything, you should be angry with me. But then again, I am not here in the hospital. I am free. I am free from your captivity.
I am living my new life now. I am pregnant 2 months now. I live with a man who loves me for me. He gives me all the attention I need, something I lacked from you. He also helped me out in getting out of the country. He said he had a lot of problem doing the necessary paperwork to get me out the asylum and all, but it worked out. He feels bad he had to forge some documents to get me admitted in the asylum, but there was no other way.
My dear Omar, if you can find a place in your heart, please forgive me.
Sameera Samir
PS. I am now in Koh Samui Island, Thailand.
The End
As the 14th of February approaches, I wrote this short story in a span of two hours to send out an anti-valentine message! Call me crazy or anything else, but I love this story because its probably more real than the heavy doses of saccharine sweetness valentine brings with itself.
Mansur
