The elephant in the room

I'm starting to believe in curses, and here's why.

I recently went on a trip to India. It was an adventure, an eye-opener and all-in-all a rather great experience. My old pal Z joined me, fresh from a month in Kenya, and as I flew back to London, it was with a pang of envy; she was moving on to Thailand. But I digress.

I brought back some gifts for my friends and family, and among them were three small wooden elephants, all from a tiny shop in one of Jaipur's many bazaars. I'd haggled shamelessly with the shopkeeper and got them for a steal - looking back, I suspect he may have wrought some kind of supernatural revenge.

The first carving, I gave to the man I was seeing at the time. While I was away, he'd moved into his new place a few neighbourhoods over from my own, so I gave him the elephant as a housewarming present. The second elephant I gave to Al and Kay, a lovely couple that I've known for years. And I gave the third to my good friend Cleo, who had just moved in with her boyfriend.

The mojo took a few days to work. I spent some time with my man, happy to be home and even happier that he was now living so close. Then, one rather chilly Tuesday, an innocent conversation turned serious. We had a difference of opinion. The conversation went on, and ultimately we decided we weren't right for each other. I brushed it off as best I could, and chalked it down to experience.

The next week, I got a call from Al. Kay had left him, after two and a half years, with no explanation other than he didn't love him anymore. Al was devastated, and my heart went out to him. A part of me couldn't help feeling the slightest bit culpable - after all, all had been well in our love lives until I brought those little wooden elephants back from India...

That was a few months ago. Now I hear that Cleo and her boyfriend are fighting. I'm usually a very rational person, but under the circumstances, I've advised her to burn the gift I gave them.