shabbat,
which means seven in hebrew, is a day to be set aside from the rest of
the week. it is a sacred day, the day on which, after creating everything,
god
rested. my husband and daughter are jewish and they observe shabbat. wonderful, i thought, as i pondered this. my way of marking shabbat... i'll wear a saree every friday. it's perhaps one of the best thoughts i've ever had. i am grinning as i write that.
but really.
i don't have to wear sarees to love them. or... do i?
how it happened i can't exactly trace but somewhere along the way, the saree got so left out from the idea of dressing up. i've never not liked or loved sarees, though it never became my daily dress as it was for my mother and grandmothers. yet for occasions, for special anything, i'd wear a saree. in fact, i'd wear a saree to work when i was twenty one, battling crowded buses, pothole filled roads, the heat and dust and grime of calcutta.
and yet, i lost touch with sarees. the need to wear them waned. about twenty years ago, it all came surging back, happily. but where would i wear sarees, here in singapore? okay, sometimes to work maybe. and then? wait for occasions? would the twenty new sarees in my cupboard be able to hold their drama till then? then it struck me. i have an occasion every week. in my own home.
shabbat.
along with my brother in law, my
husband and daughter
observe shabbat every friday evening at home. we all get together and
have shabbat dinner. good food is made, alcohol imbibed, we chat
and relax, bread is broken, wine blessed, prayers and song fill the
evening, plates are filled and emptied, a lovely lucid evening goes by. a saree is appreciated and remembered.
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