That evening, she stood under the banyan tree, the setting sun casting long shadows. She was waiting for her cousin to pick her up. The jhumkas swung gently against her neck.
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. gold earrings jhumkas
Or so Anjali thought, as she clutched the pair of gold jhumkas so tightly that their tiny bells stopped their cheerful jingling. That evening, she stood under the banyan tree,
Jingle-jingle-jingle. Pause. Jingle.
Jingle-jingle.