Diamond is forever.
When I informed my friend that my younger sibling would get married, she told me that I should have asked something from my soon-to-be-married sibling, and she or he was obliged to grant my wish.
In Asian culture, where seniority is so important, the oldest ones should have married first, followed by the second, and so on. And, of course, the youngest ones were the last to get married.
It doesn’t mean the younger ones couldn’t tie the knot before the older ones. They could, only after asking permission from the older siblings. And it doesn’t come for free; some money or something valuable must be put on the table.
This is an old tradition that some people believe needs to be done to avoid bad luck for the older sibling who is unlucky to be stepped over by the younger sibling. One of the ultimate bad luck in this case is becoming forever single.
My family didn’t hold and practice that tradition. I knew trying to extract some money from my sibling in exchange for my permission would fall on deaf ears.
I was in a better position compared to my siblings. I had a good job at that time in an established oil and gas company. How could I ask for some money from them?
However, when my youngest sister would get married, I forced her to buy me something. She had already landed a well-paying job in a big international mining company. I assumed the money was fine to her.
She hesitated in the beginning when I asked for a diamond ring.
“I even don’t get a diamond ring from my future husband,” said my sister.
Unlike Western tradition, diamond rings are not something in our culture. Like most Indonesians, we value precious metal gold jewelry more than sparkling rock diamonds.
My dear sister, diamond was not a thing for her, but unfortunately, it was a fucking damn thing for me.
That was the period in my life when I fell under the spell of a massive Diamond is Forever marketing campaign.
Somehow, ignoring her hesitation, I successfully dragged her to the diamond store, picked one ring, and made her paid it.
I already had two diamond rings and a pair of earrings. And the ring my dear sister paid for was cheery on the top to complete my diamond collection.
It’s a cheerful, girly style ring shaped like a flower with many small diamonds. Compared to my two other rings, which I bought myself, this is the cheapest. I loved it.
Diamond is still forever.
I remember very well that afternoon. I was in a gym after my office hours. I didn’t feel comfortable exercising with a ring on my finger. So I took off my rings, neatly wrapped with face tissue to avoid some scratches on the tiny precious sparkling rocks.
The diamonds’ qualities are determined based on the 4Cs: color, clarity, cut, and carat weight. Only professionals with trained eyes could asses those 4Cs.
Honestly, I could not differentiate the sparkling from real diamonds, cubic zircons, or plastic-type rocks. Remember, I was heavily subjected to the spell of a century-old diamond marketing campaign.
I then tuck in that safely tissue-wrapped ring in the inner pocket of my handbag. I stuff my handbag into a locker and off for my exercise. Later, somehow, I completely forgot about that ring for days.
Until one day, I recalled about that ring. I rushed to take my handbag out of the closet and frantically searched in the inner pocket and at every corner of my handbag. But I couldn’t find the neatly wrapped tissue where I secured my precious ring.
I repeated the search several times, hoping the tissue-filled diamond would magically appear. But it didn’t happen.
My heart plunged deeply. I tried to remember what happened within a few days after my gym session.
I switched my handbag and transferred all the stuff to the other handbag. And usually, that was also when I threw away some ‘paper trash’ I accumulated from my handbag.
In the worst-case scenario, I might throw away the tissue, thinking it was trash. Oh, dear God. What had I done?
Trying to retrieve that ring from the main garbage bin in my apartment was pointless. It must have been taken away and transported to a landfill somewhere.
My heart sank in despair. That ring meant a lot to me. Yes, I forced my dear sister to buy it for me, but I didn’t plan to keep it forever. I planned that one day, I would give the ring to my niece once she grew up. Now, that moment that I had been waiting for had vanished.
I imagined the ring was buried under tons of waste and dirt. Soon, the tissues would disintegrate, and that pretty ring would open naked to the harsh elements of a dirty and stinky landfill.
Once all the organic matter decomposed into its other form, that poor ring would still be there, together with other forever chemical materials like plastic. What a tragic fate for such a beautiful ring.
My heart was never in peace after that. I knew the ring was mine, not my sister’s. I could do anything with the ring, including losing it ridiculously.
But deep down, I felt guilty. For almost ten years, I kept it for myself. Until one day, I couldn’t bear the heaviness in my heart and confessed.
“Do you remember the diamond ring you bought for me?”
“Yes, of course I remember.”
“I lost it….I’m sorry.” I made it sound as pitiful as I could.
“It’s okay. It’s your ring anyway.”
“But I planned to give it to your daughter one day when she’s big enough.”
“It’s okay. She is still in university. I don’t think she likes that kind of ring by now,” she assured me.
I didn’t see any resentment in her facial expression or her voice. I told you, diamond was not a thing for her.
Soon after, my heart felt so light that I could float in the air like a feather. I finally wholeheartedly believed that diamond ring was not meant for me to have forever.
Now I understand why people make confessions on their deathbeds. It will help them to smooth the passage to the other side.
As for me, I could continue living my life without carrying a guilty burden inside.
Until now, I still wonder in which landfill that precious ring ended. I am sure the ring still keeps its sparks even buried under tons of soil. Diamond is forever, right?
