on a slow, blurry morning.

 

 

peculiarly light and airy feeling as i throw the chanderi on the bed and place a black silk blouse on it. black and white, no… black and off white. creases and crush as nothing is ironed. so what though, still looks rather wonderful.

it’s been a fuzzy headed morning. not enough sleep, and now two consecutive days of dressing up. i know since i started a whole blog on sarees and plaster it with my shots in sarees, one might be forgiven for thinking i love decking up.

i do. but only once in a while. say once a month. two days in a row, my brain is longing for grunge.

but the off white chanderi calls. it seems to know my state of mind. “what blouse?” i mutter to myself. “why not black,” says the chanderi. “no, not the one with zardosi neckline. just plain black.”

 

i’d worn my mother’s pearl necklace last night. that and its matching earrings were the only jewellery my mother kept with herself. she’d wear them once in a way if there was a dinner party or even a wedding in assam, where we lived in a tiny oil township called duliajan when i was growing up. the rest of her jewellery remained in a locker in calcutta, for family weddings she’d take out a couple of things at times. otherwise, the bank of india vault by deshapriya park kept all the glitter embraced in its cold steel heart. 

 

the pearls with their kundan ornaments, the brightness of my mother touches me when i slip the necklace on. maybe i’ll wear it again today. and just plain pearl bangles, made when i got married nearly forty years ago, with pearls my grandmother had kept for many years.

“what say?” i ask the gauzy one.

“not bad,” comes the nod from the chanderi, along with a golden wink. is it acquiring a singaporean tone? how wannabe, it’s just arrived here.

“what earrings?” i mutter.

my mind goes blank again.

 

 

 

 

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sarees tell stories | off white chanderi saree from handlooms karigar based in the town of chanderi, madhya pradesh. bought in 2022.

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i see i started with "peculiarly". my mother used to say "peculiar" often... i can almost see her looking at me writing this and murmuring it with that glint in her eyes. 

 

 

 

 

 

i feel silly smiling at the phone: the friday saree

 

 

this is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but...  i don't like being photographed. i am awkward in front of a camera, don't know what to do with my hands, worry i'll look like a gargoyle, feel under pressure, and most inconfident. and it's really silly to smile at the phone.

yet, every friday, after i wear the saree, i go and do just that. how much i've smiled at this rectangular object with no feelings. and poor ibi, the indefatigable cook, who with an impassive face bears all my frazzled posing, takes a hundred shots so i can choose two or three, never complains. in fact, every now and then chirpily says, "smile." 

why do i do it? how can i not, when i've worn a saree? here are a few friday sarees from the last couple of months.

 

think this is the first narayanpet i've bought for myself. the silk is light and falls gently, a whisper against the skin. abhihaara in hyderabad is a society of weavers, always feels good to get a saree from there. 

5 november, 2021.

 

a saree from odisha, bought years ago, not black, a deep bottle green. is this a sambalpuri silk? might be. 

12 november, 2021.

 

i'd never heard of kunbi sarees till a friend from goa mentioned them. i searched the internet looking for them, found a facebook page, they had a whatsapp number, we chatted, and i had my first kunbis. slightly thick cotton sarees, with their trademark simplicity, so basic and honest, you've got to respect them. they fit in with a community's way of life. tough sarees, not at all afraid the heat and dust. 

19 november, 2021. 

a favourite odisha saree from a lovely young textile designer's shop... vani vrtti. she calls this ananta, a take on flowing water, the pallu has signs of water life. the tussar yarn is rich and soft, hand spun by the women of the area. 

26 november, 2019.

 

a gossamer light cotton chanderi from, of course, chanderi. such a stroke of luck finding ayaz bhai, who'll show you chanderis on a video call, pulling out sarees from almirahs in one room of their house. nearby, his sister in law, bhabi, might be weaving a fine simmering saree. 

10 december, 2021.
 

a patola from rajkot. for some reason, i thought it was an odisha bandha, i was wrong. the colour is sleek and the saree falls like a deep sigh. 

17 december, 2021.

a saree from at least thirty years ago, tangerine and peach, thick rich cotton, a nuapatna ikkat from odisha, has a cool demeanour. 

24 december, 2021.

a jet black soft silk with wonderful kañtha embroidery in browns and creams, i flipped the pallu and wore it somewhat gujarati style, maybe a little parsi too. last evening of the year, mark it. 

31 december, 2021.

first shabbat of the year, i wore this leisurely cotton from odisha, ikkat, not sure from which area exactly, but it's a subtle play of shades, someone said it matched the table cloth, i said, good. obviously in a brown mood me. 

7 january, 2022.

a mekhela sador in cotton, from assam, not a saree really, yet anything with the elements of pallu and pleats, feels like one. that flyaway tucked end of the sador adds such a playful note. sassy, even. 

14 january, 2022.

when i heard, the tata group, known for its steel plants, cars, software engineering, watches, hotels, etc., were starting a saree shop, i was taken aback. i almost laughed, the idea was so funny. but i'm glad they did. some very interesting sarees at taneira. this one i saw on their instagram account and fell for the story. tussar sarees embroidered by a group of rabadi women in bhuj who had seen the terrible earthquake, the embroidery expresses their emotions of that experience... simple motifs of homes, waves, children, the sun... survivors drawing strength from their craft. consummate needle work, bright colours, you'd never guess they were speaking of trauma. 

21 january, 2022.

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photos credit ferolyn fernandez

of real and fake and chanderi sarees

 

he loved vintage cars. every morning, practically, he'd come to look at his collection, which used to be kept in a garage built on land rented from my family. he always wore pristine, brilliant white pajamas and a flowing crisp kurta, his hair would be neatly brushed and the most pleasant smile would appear on his face if he happened to spot you or any of your elders.

"namashkar!" he'd greet in a low amicable tone, as he raised his hands high before him, palms joined. he'd let you go up close to his cars, even touch a shiny collectible surface if you wished to. he let some of us sit in one of his priceless automobiles once. he was the best tenant one could have and the most polite and decent man.

given the ironies of life, it really shouldn't have surprised anyone when he turned out to be not quite the man you thought he was. but all that came later.

much after his wife and he had gifted me my first chanderi saree. it was for my wedding and they'd chosen well. on a base of deep purple – it had a tinge of mocha brown in it – sat delicately woven dull gold motifs and an elegant restrained border in the same matte gold zari. the fabric was of the finest quality.

that perfect gossamer of chanderi, the wafting gauziness of it all... almost like a dream the fall. like a veil through which you look at memory.

i fussed endlessly about wearing the saree, even though i loved it. but when would i ever be thin enough to feel confident in a material so sheer? the struggle went on, the weight stayed put. i think i finally surrendered to temptation and wore the saree once, maybe twice. in time, it frayed and i had to let it go.

but a chanderi that belonged to my grandmother i couldn't throw away, even when it was in shreds. its pink is bright and playful, the contrasting blue border highlights the character of the main colour. intricate motifs in zari and a darker shade of pink traipse across the saree, its solid gold border shimmers.

as it tore in my hands, a world seemed to shift out of focus. i kept the borders, bits of the pink at the edges. some day, i think, some day, i'll go to chanderi and get someone to make a saree like that for me.

for centuries, possibly beginning in the eleventh – or who knows, maybe even earlier... or later – this delightful fabric of cotton and zari, and later silk, has been woven in the town of chanderi. 

picture courtesy uploader

situated between malwa and bundelkhand in central india, chanderi was part of the trade routes and became an important military outpost. it was fought over and ruled by many kings and conquerors. babur, allaudin khilji, and the rajputs, among them. 

it's mentioned in ibn batuta's travelogues, he went there in 1342, apparently. wonder if he wrote about the weavers and their fine product?

the lightweight cotton with its sheer transparency always startles me. 

something about its texture. 

hold it up and look through, a maze of patterns form on the threads, an optical illusion created by weave and play of light on it perhaps. and though chanderi was traditionally made with cotton only, it's never bothered to look anything but luxurious.

am talking of the real ones, not the fakes that have overtaken the market. there are a few designers and also shops like fabindia, that are getting quite serious about reviving and keeping alive the looms of chanderi. maybe fakes have their uses...

and now that i think, had the man in white been a good guy all the way, something would have certainly gone missing from my recollections of chanderi. when the twist in that tale came and he behaved in a way no one could have imagined, i raved and ranted, but i kept the saree.

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sarees tell stories | yellow chanderi from touch of class paithani, grey and silver chanderi from an exhibition in singapore, both bought in 2014.

 

posted this on writersbrew.com on august 5, 2016

 

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