The Ring

For our engagement 13 years ago, my husband gave me a ring with some intricately stylized curly-cue like patterns made of gold welded on to a flat gold band. Cute, except the darn thing got caught in everything - everything! I ruined my favorite silk blouse on it, a very expensive hand woven and embroidered silk saree fell prey to its vicious claws, almost every single stocking that I ever put on got victimized. So, finally I stopped wearing it. I don't think it pleased my husband too much, but he understood my pain. And so I lived my life - ringless - my marital status obscured.
About six years into our marriage, on the early morning of my birthday - really early morning of my birthday - my husband woke me up with a big smile on his face and a blue velvet ring box. With a knowing smile and of course, quite a few gracious comments, I took the box. Surely, here is the diamond ring that I always wanted. I eagerly opened the box - only to find one of my old rings nestled in the blue satin bed. What do you call this? Regifting? No - it can't be that because he didn't even buy that old ring in the first place! And to be woken up in the middle of the night for this? Scowling, I shoved the box back into his face, grunted, turned my back and flopped back on the pillow. Shamelessly and persistently, undeterred by my angry mutterings, he chuckled at his own joke, apologised and produced another ring box - this time a bigger plastic jewellary box. Hmm... I guess I am getting that diamond ring that I really wanted, even though that plastic box was a little disconcerting. I opened it a little more eagerly albeit with a smaller smile. In it sat a big, fat, ugly ring with Java logo on it (See - http://www.useit.com/papers/javaring.html). A JavaRing? You got to be kidding me? What I'm gonna do with it - break into Sun Microsystems building using the accessibility provided by the ring and do what? Steal some office supplies? I wouldn't be caught dead wearing such a nerdy piece of jewellary. I was ready to grab my pillow and storm out of the bedroom, when he grabbed me by my waist, pulled me back on the bed and slipped something on my left ring finger. I looked down. There it was - a slim platinum band with the most perfect carat of diamond perched confidently on it. I looked up and saw at least ten carats worth of smile on his face - beaming down at me.
On a really bad day, all I have to do is look down at it, remember how I got it and it never fails to put a smile on face. Now that I look back, I think the biggest gift that I got from him that day was not the ring, but the moments around it and story about it.