Do you remember the first saree you wore? Did it belong to your mother? Or was it your own? My first was a Mysore Silk saree, a feather weight saree in deep purple. My father bought it for me when I was 17. He wasn’t too happy about it, so he followed it soon with a plain chocolate brown Mysore silk from one of his trips to Bangalore. I am yet to find a saree as pretty and as close to my heart as these two.
I think sarees are similar to fingerprints, every one of them unique, symbolic of the creativity we humans are capable of. Besides, they are one-size-fits-all, although the same saree looks different on different people! I am a big fan of staring at the expensive sarees that are displayed outside Nalli Silk. Their beauty is perfectly captured by the natural light, making you want to buy them. My mother’s wedding saree was a violet Kancheepuram silk, with huge zari checks woven on it, and tiny zari flowers inside the checks. I doubt people even weave such designs these days. Maybe if someone custom weaves sarees, I would get one like that woven for me. For a long time, I wanted to own the saree popularized by Jyothika for RmKV. It has 50,000 shades in it This one (and costs a whole load of money)
I have heard that just like morsels of rice, the weaves of the saree carry the name of the person who would wear it. Maybe it is true. My mother has ended up wearing the sarees that I buy for myself. For years, my mother never touched the kasavu saree I bought for her. I eventually wore it last Onam. Here are two sarees I really love, which came to me unexpectedly! One is a Kancheepuram silk with an embroidered border. I had bought it for someone else. The other one is a shocking fuchsia Banarasi saree that I bought when I went for a walk. In fact, the storekeeper did not believe I was a serious customer. Now I am eager to know which is the next saree that would accidentally become mine. Its a nice surprise, don’t you think?
On a lighter note, I find it physically exhausting to carry myself around in 6 yards, especially in the famous Chennai weather. I wonder how people wore 9 yards of it! Add that to the agony of finding a tailor and getting a blouse stitched for your saree … only to realise that the blouse only fits you once and then you are sitting in the darkness, removing a stitch or two to fit into it the second time, quite an ordeal there. Not to forget, the tailor is always missing and you are looking for a new tailor for every saree you buy.
Here is to a million combinations of sarees and blouses and saree-draping techniques that India offers to the world, and the livelihood that the humble drape offers for scores of people. Light chiffons, easy to drape and move, define my taste in sarees. What does your six yard signature look like?
The Ink Spear 