The Broken Bangle Story Book

[Amabella Batton]

Ittook me a good ten minutes to get mine on. I tried butter, lotion, contorting my wrist in all sorts of fashions and only when I had finally given up and just kind of rammed it on my hand did it pop over that bone.

And the engagement days.It clashed beautifully with bridesmaids dresses but the brides never fussed.Even though I had cracked it playing a rigorous game of baseball in 2007 it survived to see me to my wedding day.And for nearly 3 years after that lovely day.

I say get another. Several years ago when we visited Australia my husband bought me 2 jade bangles. I wear one and am considering wearing both of them at the same time.

It sounds like you are really mourning your loss, perhaps your dad or hubby will buy you another!

Anyway, just as I fell and cracked my bangle and you cracking yours during a baseball game, our bangles protected us from harm (although I did get two giant bloody bruises on my knees). Basically, the jade protected us from more serious injuries. I see breaking my bangle as it having protected me from something much more terrible than two cuts on my wrist.

If you ever decide to get another one, make sure you get what you pay for. The best jade is when it turns greener/more beautiful as you wear it and translucent jade seems to be valued more than opaque jade.

those broken jade could be made into some other jewellery. i just brought my wife a jadeite bangle, she could not remove it and hopefully she will grow to like it. price for jadeite rise. if you have a son or daughter whom you think you would like to leave a remembrance to. just get one for them . the reason why the chinese like to pass these thing as a heirloom is that it could not be replaced. as no 2 pair of bangle is identical.

Yes I agree with Walin. I collect jade and that was my immediate thought. It was a beautiful bangle but not jade. Even so, the wonderful memories and the love from your Dad buying the bangles for you and your Mom are real and lasting. If you want to repair it, it actually can be done, a jeweller can turn it into a hinged bangle, but the cost would not be worth it since its probably not jade. A little tip: jadeite jade is harder than steel. So if you do get a new jadeite bangle, a way to test it is in an inconspicuous spot, try scratching it with a steel knife. If you are able to scratch it, its not jade.

Her face looked the same as it was the time I had seen her first. I was amazed about how just in fraction of seconds I took down every detail. The locks tucked behind her ears, her cheek with a slight pinkish touch. Her beautiful deep eyes, they spoke so much, they led me inside her.

It was a frigid overcast day. Though I had caught some glimpses of the sun sometime in between but at that very moment there were only clouds hovering above. The bus was nearing and my heart almost stopped beating when I saw her. She sat still, on that very place. Her eyes were melancholic today; her emotions struck me somewhere deep. I wanted to ask the driver to stop, get down and hug her. I couldn't, I didn't. The bus crossed her and I just kept looking from the window. She sat still, absolutely motionless. I tried to put my head out of the window and through the corner of my eyes I saw hers'. Shedding a pearl like drop of tear. The bus sped and I got drenched in my memories.

Manish brought me back to life.

"The farewell was amazing. I will remember it throughout my life." He said.

I had just bid farewell to the love of my life I thought.

"Verma sir's speech was excellent."

I remained mum.

"What is with you?"

Manish asked when he noticed my lack of interest. I looked at him blankly, my throat dried. It was the first time I was narrating my love story to someone.

"Few months earlier..."

The rains had just started. I was sitting beside the same window that day, looking outside at the sky which now had stopped weeping for a while. Maybe I was looking for someone, maybe it was her.

Lost in my thoughts my eyes fell on a roadside bangle stall. A girl almost about my age sat there. It was rather a temporary one, moveable on four wheels. On it she had neatly placed the bangles. A strand of hair fell over her face and she tucked it behind her ears. Her cheeks were red. And as the bus honked, she turned around revealing her eyes. Those with which I fell in love instantly. Soon she was out of sight leaving me to myself in the bus. I reached school, the classes commenced but it was impossible to forget those eyes.

I didn't find her there on my way back home and couldn't spot her the next day even. My thoughts about her gradually went down the well. It was again four to five days later that I saw her. This time she had a broom in her hand, sweeping off the dirt around the shop. Even in the swarm of dust she looked as beautiful as ever. Her lose hair hanging and one hand behind her. As the bus sped leaving a cloud of dust and smoke she covered her mouth with the rear end of the dupatta. I thought about her, she had a broom in her hand and I had books. I wished to find her in my school, right there near the window of my class looking out and tucking her hair behind her ear but she was not there.

The slow paced rains were heavy now. Time passed rapidly and my one sided love for her grew stronger and stronger. On my way to school I would sit by the window think of her, about what she might be doing, and sometimes about how ignorant she was about me.

The rains had just started that day, the clouds were joining hands and drops of rainwater hit the windowpane and through it I saw her, she was covering the bangles with a plastic. It was a moment. The bus halted and let a truck pass, as if especially for me. She looked up and her eyes met mine through the water droplets. My lips stretched releasing a faint smile and her eyes blushed as if she knew. My love for her had been expressed through my eyes. That extended halt had filled in the gap between us. Those few more seconds of the clock seemed like ages.

After the incident, she used to wait for me too. I would know. And would look up at me with a broad smile whenever the bus passed. It was strange, we never talked, physically. Our eyes did it for us. And sometimes I would show her my book, indicating about my exams and she would follow up with thumbs up sign wishing me best of luck. Sometimes she would show me her new glass bangles which she had put on. The jingles would fill my ears for the rest of the day.

I would miss her during Sundays and holidays. And I would wish to ride my bicycle for the full ten kilometers and land up before her. I could, but I never did.

One day during early winters she was missing, so was the shop. Next day said the same story. I got restless, I wanted to see her, her eyes, her locks, I was worried. Finally after five long days I saw her again with the shop. The bangles had reduced in number.

Her eyes narrated a sad story but I was ignorant then. She held her ears, she was sorry for her absence and I thought she meant it, she did and I had to give in.

The winters progressed and my time at school was gradually decreasing. I feared that I would lose her but I kept all those dark thoughts down and continued my journey with her.

In the freezing cold mornings, amidst the fog I could see her standing, sometimes without warm clothes. She would smile although as if it was too painful for her, as if stretching the rear ends of the lip was the most painful job. But she did with tear drops in her eyes. I could see, however hard she tried to cover them with her blanket of smile.

I never knew the reason behind them. I wished I did.

Time did its job again and my school days ended with the beginning of preparatory leave. I longed for her. In my books, out on the road I saw her face but not that smile. It ceased mine too. Sleepless nights. Dull days. And more sleepless nights. And time again. I was getting ready for my farewell day.

Every word that left my mouth struck an arrow straight at my heart. My face became wet, like it had never been.

When I ended, it was Manish's face that had lost color.

"She has no mother and her father is a drunkard who beats her up every day."

As I heard him say those words, I wished I wouldn't have said anything. The bus paced. I thought of her again, spoken unspoken she had said many things. I didn't even know the first letter of her name but our love was inseparable.

Next day the local newspaper's headline read, "Drunkard father, kills daughter."

If you live with crystals for long, there will unfortunately come a day when breakage occurs. Either by dropping them to the floor or onto a hard surface, or even as in the case mentioned above, dropping something on them or clanking them against one another. It happens.

The message I have received from the Crystal People over and over again, is that more often than not, the crystal has chosen to be damaged in order to assist the person with a lesson on self love and acceptance (and forgiveness!).

The empathy continues from there on! Remember, a crystal will encounter many people during its lifespan. Each person that expresses compassion for the damage on the crystal increases the empathetic energy of the crystal. It is a cycle that builds and repeats.

In any circumstance in which you need to bring compassion into the mix, you might work with an Empathic (chipped, broken or damaged) crystal. If it is a crystal which has broken in your care, meditate on the type of crystal, the circumstances, and how it makes you feel that this happened.

If we work with an Empathic crystal, we can see how much we still love this crystal, not simply in spite of its damage, but a lot of times, because of it. We are able to see what this crystal has gone through in its lifetime and still it perseveres.

I purchased a Rose quartz pendent then charged and energized it, on the 1 St day when I wore it , by the end of day it started chipping off! I was sitting whole day near my crush! What does it mean, why it chipped off?

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