it's a heavy silk, its weight lets it fall with a ballerina's grace. it flows and extends and pirouettes around you. i wore the black and white patola last evening admiring everything about it again. the fabric, the tie and dye, the restraint, the soft smooth feel against my skin and in my hand as i held it. bought in bangalore, years ago, a dear friend and my husband had chosen it. i had just started getting mad about sarees. my friend wasn't well then, but she had still taken my husband to the shop, bandhej, and helped him select a saree for me. i thought of my friend again. i had met her at the ad agency where i first met the mac. where i started thinking of steve jobs. i thought about my husband, who's away on work at the moment. he is not exactly the saree buying kind of man, but he'd gone anyway, and chosen a black and white. predictable but always fabulous. classic. like my friend, my husband, and of course mr jobs. so i wore the saree i was planning to, hope the look was just so.
in the middle of may or was it june last year, when a good friend and
his wife invited us to their daughter’s wedding in kerala in december,
and i said, yes, would love to come, i was fully prepared for an
enchanting time in the deep green southern state which has an even
deeper affair with red. today, the only state in the country with a
communist government.
i would be passing through bengaluru. when i lived there, it was
bangalore, and i have no idea why we keep changing names, but well,
bengaluru it is. everyone grumbles that the city, where i spent some of
my happiest times, is gone: traffic, population, heat, dust, doom and
politicians.
i disagree, and as some of my closest friends live there, i planned a
stopover on the way to as well as on the way back from kumarakom, where
the wedding was to be held in a resort by the backwaters. i do not wish
to digress, but watching the colours of an indian wedding unfold
against the blues and endless of the backwaters, framed by the
aforementioned green, is a religious experience. especially if elevated
by genuine welcome and the easy banter of friends who went to school
together; the father of the bride was a class mate of mine.
the bride was radiant, she is malayalee and of syrian christian
heritage, the groom had a gentle smile, he’s maharashtrian, hindu. the
wedding was joyful and fun, parents and families on both sides
enthusiastically taking part in customs and traditions, even those that
were new to them. i was not embarrassed at all that i’d packed four
dressy sarees and a new mekhela sador for the five occasions across two
days.
as i mentioned, i was quite sure the trip would be happy and
memorable, but i was not prepared for the sarees. i don’t mean the ones i’d taken along.
you never really know what
the future holds in store for you, do you. i’m not trying to be randomly and
mundanely philosophical here, just going over the circumstances that led to those
sarees.
of course, on a visit to bengaluru, i’d rush over to ambara – a nice
boutique – right next door to my friend’s place; and there’s always
chickpet a short drive away, we spent an illuminating and expensive
evening there on my last visit… if you love or even like sarees, don’t
give rukmini hall a miss. we casually considered going to kancheepuram this time to gaze at the silks on the loom, but desisted.
i kept thinking: maybe i’ll get one kanjeevaram, or an ilkal… but nothing else. the best laid plans of mice and weak women…
the friend i stayed with on the way to kerala, said she had to take
me to taneira, the new saree place opened by titan. the famous tata
group, known for steel, cars, technology, finance, hotels, watches… is
into sarees now. the mighty shall capitulate before these six yards, it
is written.
my friend had some taneira discount coupons… lovely shop, i thought,
as i walked in. there were sarees on shelves, on hangers, spread out on
tables, sarees everywhere in a series of rooms connected by meandering
corridors and staircases. they floated, they sat, they beckoned, they
wrapped you in a world of their own… you got lost, there was no need to
be found.
i tried to resist. i was valiant. then i spotted a light blue
banarasi. i almost stopped breathing when the folds were opened and it
was laid out on the table.
i said, no. i was not going to spend madly on the very first day. i
could do it. my friend reminded me of the discount. i walked away and
fell upon a cotton kota with its eight trademark squares to assuage the
pain. it had pretty sanganeri block prints, a saree from rajasthan that
was a repository of memories… my aunts, mother, great aunt, they’d wear
these airy, light kotas, especially during summer.
my friend watched me as i hurried over to see what lay in the next
room. each alcove, space, corner had a different kind of saree on
display, from different parts of the country.
the dark pink and purple maheshwari from madhya pradesh caught me unawares.
maharani ahaliyabai holkar… rehwa… gossamer silk… revival by sally
holkar… the thoughts wafted and swirled, gold tinted and free.
i have
never bought a maheshwari for myself i thought…
my friend giggled and thrust a pale mehendi green chanderi into my
hands. i must buy this for you, she said. why, i muttered flummoxed,
staring at the see through fine fabric.
she laughed and replied, i’ve never seen anyone so happy in a saree
store, it’s like watching a kid in a toy shop… besides, i have the
discount.
i went off to kerala with three new sarees in the suitcase.
on the way back, we stopped by at kasavu kada in cochin, well known for their kerala cotton sarees. i bought a white cotton, not the real zari kasavu,
just a simple inexpensive one with a thin border in gold and a snazzy
purple. it cost around rs 450. why so cheap, i asked. the cotton count
is only 80, said the man. it was handloom, it was 100% cotton, people
were willing to talk about the count of warp and weft, not give vague
answers, felt good.
back in bengaluru, at my second host’s home, a kesa paat from assam
awaited. i’d bought it from kohua d’handloom café, a new shop in
guwahati; they’d sent it over. the owner is a friend’s cousin, he and i
have fascinating chats on whatsapp often about the weavers and textiles
of assam. kesa paat or raw silk is diaphanous and a bit stiff, the drape
gets better after you wear it a few times, he had said. i’d fallen for
the motifs, assamese bootis
are unique, mine had tiny goss phool or the tree motif – phool is
literally flower, means motif or booti – and large bold triangular
patterns on the pallu, in a no nonsense brown and gold. it was even
prettier than i’d thought.
i would have left india with these five new sarees, but then the
banarasi started spooking me. i had to return to taneira with the second
friend. what would i do without my ever patient and indulgent friends.
she and i pondered the light blue banarasi. something wasn’t right. the
shot effect… the density of bootis… or was it their size? as i wandered,
if not lonely as a cloud, quite sad at the thought of letting go, i saw
the other blue banarasi.
the folds opened, the classic zari work shone, the stately border,
the zari encrusted pallu, the lavish kolkas sitting nawabishly at either
end of it, the crafting was sure, you could sense this craft wasn’t
perfected in a day, the blue reminded me of aunties at north indian
weddings. i, like shetty of good old hindi films, was sold.
i came
back from south india with six sarees. a saree from the south, a kerala cotton,
not kanjeevaram this time. a saree from the east, the kesa paat from assam. a
saree from the west, the kota from rajashthan. a saree from the north, the blue
banarasi. and two sarees from the centre of the country, madhya pradesh: the
maheshwari and the chanderi.
when i realised this, i knew i had to write. this was not planned. the best moments in life i guess rarely are.
errant thought: perhaps there’ll be an invite soon, and that over dressed aunty at an indian wedding.
wrote this on january 3, 2019 and posted on our magazine writersbrew.com
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
sarees tell stories|mehendi green chanderi, deep pink maheshwari, sanganeri print kota,
blue banarasi from taneira, bengaluru; kerala cotton with purple border
from kasavu kada, cochin; off white kesa paat from kohua d’handloom
cafe, guwahati; all sarees bought in december 2018.
