Picture a narrow, dimly lit alcove wedged between a leather bag vendor and a shop selling psychedelic scarves, just a few steps past Leopold Café, on the Shahid Bhagat Singh Road stretch. The stall is not inside a building, but it's tucked under a crumbling colonial awning, with faded green shutters that creak when the wind picks up. It's the kind of place you'd miss if you weren't looking for it.
The stall itself is open-fronted, but shadowy, with a single flickering bulb casting long shadows over brass compasses, chipped porcelain dolls, and sepia-toned photographs. The air smells faintly of sandalwood and mildew. A cracked mirror leans against the back wall, reflecting not your face, but something just slightly… off.
Among rusted lockets and dusty mirrors, a pair of light green gems glow. You startle as the gems suddenly move, coming closer to you. As you look closely, the gems are the eyes of a fakir, liberally ringed with crow's feet, who emerges from the shadows. They rest upon an ancient grey beard that flows majestically to the floor.
"U-um sir, this is your shop, right? "Yesterday's Curios"?" You ask nervously.
"That is what the sign says," the fakir replies, leaning forward to look at the sign as of to check the name, and nodded"And I am the one who sells the objects of this stall."
"Well, my nani, Renuka, told me to find the owner of this stall. You see, she passed away recently," you tell the fakir in a careful manner.
"Hmmm," the fakir remarks and moves his caved-in jaw as if chewing "that woman has had many dalliances with Yama (the god of death). I'm surprised it took this long for him to finally claim her."
You feel a surge of anger flare up at this insult aimed at your dead nani. Then you tell yourself that this man is not far from meeting his own maker and calm yourself down.
"My nani left behind a note that you would have something to give me if she passed away," you inform him curtly.
"What could I possibly have to give you?" The fakir exclaims, acting surprised, "My only possessions are the clothes on my back and these things that you see before you that are up for sale."
You sigh in exasperation. You know your nani was eccentric and it would be just like her to make you come all the way to Colaba for nothing. But, you are all on your own now and desperate for any help you could get from this supposed 'thing' that you are to collect from the fakir. So, you decide to probe him further.
"You seem to have known my nani well sir. Please try to remember if she ever gave you something for safekeeping," you plead.
"Hmmm," says the fakir, once again rotating his caved-in jaw and making a smacking sound, "The only thing your poor nani ever gave me was a keychain which I bought from her at a fair price. She made me promise not to sell it to anyone else until she could buy it back. But, I suppose now since she's dead you can be the one to buy it back."
You hold your head in your hands. A keychain! How could your nani have thought that a keychain was going to help you? Even if it has keys on it you don't have any item that locks in your house and you have no idea what the keys would fit.
"Would you like to see it boy?" Asks the fakir, his chewing and smacking intensifying as his eyes light up eagerly. You do not bother correcting him, that you are a girl. By now you have gotten used to people mistaking you for a boy because of the shirts you wear and your short hair.
"Yes please, sir," you reply.
The fakir reaches into his thick beard, his whole hand disappearing up till the wrist, fiddles with something as if untying it and pulls out the keychain. Your eyes widen and you cannot stop gazing at it.