“She’s not a girl; do not tell her what to believe,
She’s just trying to find the woman in her.”
She’s just trying to find the woman in her.”
She opened the door and flung out the six yard grey-black chiffon garment out on the bed.
“So? What do you think?”
“So? What do you think?”
Her eighteen year daughter was talking on the phone, standing by the window, not knowing what lay behind her.
“Rochelle?”
Rochelle, her daughter turned back and her eyes gleamed with excitement.
“Wow! It’s terribly gorgeous. From where did you get this crazy print?”
“I got this pattern colored from the dyer down the road. However, this is not the exact grey I had wanted!”
“Oh! C’mon mamma! The grey merges beautifully with the black below it you still think it could have gotten better? For me, it’s amazing!”
“Hmm?? Is that?”
“That is!”
>>
“I started to love the concept of a sari being the symbol of the Indian women’s attire. So of late, anything to do with the garment used to get me started. The moment I lay my eyes on my mother’s sari, I fell in love with it. It was one of the most beautiful pieces of six yard cloth that my mum got home. No doubt, it was a perfect wardrobe must have and it could accentuate a lady’s gracefulness till no limit. It was chiffon with a crazy layered pattern in grey and black. The boundary had black embellishments and the whole look was extremely contemporary. In short- I loved it.”
>>
“My daughters expressions changed from a frown to a huge smile shot straight from ear to ear as she saw the sari. She was eighteen, fresh out of high school, totally in love with anything offbeat and kinky. Like every teenage girl, looking beautiful yet far-out was one of her primary mottos in life.
I knew exactly what pleased her in the drape- the zigzag grey to black pattern print. It looked different from the stereotypical flowery prints or plain geometric designs of blocks and stripes. She at times used to daunt me on wearing a predictable or a usual print in a sari. My daughter-grown enough to understand the meaning of ‘personal style’ loved to keep her looks more than just the obvious and in every way, the psychedelic look of the sari was fulfilling it. She had known what exactly would make heads turn in public.”
“My daughters expressions changed from a frown to a huge smile shot straight from ear to ear as she saw the sari. She was eighteen, fresh out of high school, totally in love with anything offbeat and kinky. Like every teenage girl, looking beautiful yet far-out was one of her primary mottos in life.
I knew exactly what pleased her in the drape- the zigzag grey to black pattern print. It looked different from the stereotypical flowery prints or plain geometric designs of blocks and stripes. She at times used to daunt me on wearing a predictable or a usual print in a sari. My daughter-grown enough to understand the meaning of ‘personal style’ loved to keep her looks more than just the obvious and in every way, the psychedelic look of the sari was fulfilling it. She had known what exactly would make heads turn in public.”
>>
“I opened the sari to its full length, nine yards. It reminded me of the first time I did a stark blue one for my high school farewell. More than jeans and skirts now, I started to love saris, though I could not wear them, of course. I was just eighteen and with such beautiful attire that I was eligible to wear, yet could not, I felt criminal. Besides, I saw that an enigmatic Indian woman wrapped in a beautiful sari were every man’s dream! It was not just a garment, it was an ornament. The beauty in a sari mostly lay in its drape and perhaps it is in the blood of every Indian lady to carry off one with aplomb. From being a corporate or a business woman to a fashionista, it was a garment that complimented one and all. Its a piece of cloth that has been giving respect and protecting the honor of our women since 2800 BC and still continues to do the same. Even I had wanted to do it. I asked my mum.”
>>
“I saw, my daughter was totally excited at the whole idea of that sari happening to her. When she asked me if she could wear it, I saw, that was not even a question. It sounded like she was telling me that irrespective of what followed, that garment was hers and she could not lose a minute to drape it.
She wanted to be more than just a college going girl experimenting with flashy colors and unusual fabrics. She wanted to feel like a freaking headstrong lady. She wanted to see herself in the mirror as a girl who kept her indianess high, her mind in place, yet stay stylish enough and look in vogue. Ever since she enwrapped one for the first time to her high school farewell, {made herself look very topical, I must add} she had become confident in carrying off one. {Or at least, gave the illusion.}You know how these females are, who are changing from being a girl to a woman! If they are fascinated by something, they pretend, it comes naturally to them. Oh she was a treat to watch.”
“I saw, my daughter was totally excited at the whole idea of that sari happening to her. When she asked me if she could wear it, I saw, that was not even a question. It sounded like she was telling me that irrespective of what followed, that garment was hers and she could not lose a minute to drape it.
She wanted to be more than just a college going girl experimenting with flashy colors and unusual fabrics. She wanted to feel like a freaking headstrong lady. She wanted to see herself in the mirror as a girl who kept her indianess high, her mind in place, yet stay stylish enough and look in vogue. Ever since she enwrapped one for the first time to her high school farewell, {made herself look very topical, I must add} she had become confident in carrying off one. {Or at least, gave the illusion.}You know how these females are, who are changing from being a girl to a woman! If they are fascinated by something, they pretend, it comes naturally to them. Oh she was a treat to watch.”
>>
“I clothed myself in that six yard cloth, wore black stilettos, black wonder bra and silver earrings. Yeah, by now, I had found various ways to display a sari, ‘discovered’ to be precise. It came by experimenting, imagining! No magazines and no fashion shows helped me. Wearing that sari made me look tall, feminine, congenial and extremely pleasing. With no exceptions whatsoever, every time I did a sari, I always thought of myself as an Indian goddess come on earth. This time, I wore it in a usual Indian style and modeled myself in front of the mirror. I first let it cover myself-head to toe kept it pleated and pinned up. The next moment, I undid a couple of pins, shifted the pallu to expose my torso and lo! I was a diva. I twisted, turned and waltzed around holding the pleats and pallu. My mum stood behind the mirror, laughing…”
>>
“Her ecstasy knew no limits. She had beautifully tied the garment across her waist, low risen I must add and she looked charismatic. I stood back, watching her change different styles. From looking modest and coy to changing it into a form that could give a western outfit a complex, she switched styles. And as expected, she did it effortlessly, seamlessly. She was walking in front of the mirror like she was satya Paul’s favorite model. Exuding the sultry, sweltry and sharp expression on her face, she gave the bring-it-on look.
She had always wanted to outdo others. Perhaps that was the reason, she learnt to do a sari earlier than most girls and she knew styles more than a lot of older women, may be me too. I remember, she was twelve-ish when she wore my sari for the first time in front of the mirror. We all could not help trip with laughter and amusement. Today, I saw she felt like a woman, not a girl anymore. She was not a stranger to her own frame, She knew which parts of her body to enhance, how low the sari must be, the way a blouse to be worn, how a pallu should be wrapped and to be a girl who hides all yet reveals all.”
“Her ecstasy knew no limits. She had beautifully tied the garment across her waist, low risen I must add and she looked charismatic. I stood back, watching her change different styles. From looking modest and coy to changing it into a form that could give a western outfit a complex, she switched styles. And as expected, she did it effortlessly, seamlessly. She was walking in front of the mirror like she was satya Paul’s favorite model. Exuding the sultry, sweltry and sharp expression on her face, she gave the bring-it-on look.
She had always wanted to outdo others. Perhaps that was the reason, she learnt to do a sari earlier than most girls and she knew styles more than a lot of older women, may be me too. I remember, she was twelve-ish when she wore my sari for the first time in front of the mirror. We all could not help trip with laughter and amusement. Today, I saw she felt like a woman, not a girl anymore. She was not a stranger to her own frame, She knew which parts of her body to enhance, how low the sari must be, the way a blouse to be worn, how a pallu should be wrapped and to be a girl who hides all yet reveals all.”
>>
“Ever since I understood what a sari was, I was twelve if I remember correctly; I used to try wearing it in front of the mirror, on top on my skirt and the pink Barbie top nonetheless! It suddenly dawned on me; I had grown big enough to be able to carry off a sari so easily. It came so naturally to me that I did not need my mum’s help to tie it across my waist. I looked at my wardrobe and gave a painful sigh for not owning one. Course I could not, but given a choice, I would have loved to go out in a sari the upcoming valentine than a black cocktail dress. Saris will remain incomparable, now and forever…
>>
“I finally realized, my daughter had grown big. She was big enough to wear a sari herself. From jeans and skirts and boys, in no time she would shift to saris and men. I felt a sense of nostalgia about all the years of her growing up. she no more wanted my little finger to walk in one or my helping hands to get her pleats right. There was a time when she was fourteen, for even a pair of jeans, she used to turn around and ask me if it was skinny enough, if the rise was low enough, if the fitting was right. For a blank top, she used to ask me the bra she should wear, if she looked slim enough, if the color she chose was right, if she could expose her naval, if she could wear a spaghetti. Till yesterday, I checked on her thrice with every garment of hers. Today, she was just about trying a sari and she did not need me to advice her on her drape, her pallu, her pleats. She knew her mind to decide what was right.
I was a little hesitant to the change though. But I sincerely chose to look back and watch her. Smile with every change that she brought about in the way she wore the sari and think, a black hand clutch with the sari will make it perfect for an evening wear. I understood her need for freedom. Her need for a friend who could tell her that she looked fabulous…”
“I finally realized, my daughter had grown big. She was big enough to wear a sari herself. From jeans and skirts and boys, in no time she would shift to saris and men. I felt a sense of nostalgia about all the years of her growing up. she no more wanted my little finger to walk in one or my helping hands to get her pleats right. There was a time when she was fourteen, for even a pair of jeans, she used to turn around and ask me if it was skinny enough, if the rise was low enough, if the fitting was right. For a blank top, she used to ask me the bra she should wear, if she looked slim enough, if the color she chose was right, if she could expose her naval, if she could wear a spaghetti. Till yesterday, I checked on her thrice with every garment of hers. Today, she was just about trying a sari and she did not need me to advice her on her drape, her pallu, her pleats. She knew her mind to decide what was right.
I was a little hesitant to the change though. But I sincerely chose to look back and watch her. Smile with every change that she brought about in the way she wore the sari and think, a black hand clutch with the sari will make it perfect for an evening wear. I understood her need for freedom. Her need for a friend who could tell her that she looked fabulous…”
“How do u like me in this sari?” she asked
“Oh you look so pretty, darling! We will buy a good one for your college fresher”
“Yay! Thanks a lot. I want to stand out that day.”
“Yes! We shall look into it later. Come, let’s eat lunch now. I have made your favorite paneer today!”
>>
“I undid my sari and quickly changed into my usual trousers and top. I suddenly felt like all the other girls who struggled with equations in school and mommy’s tantrums at home. From a lady, I changed back to a girl facing nothingness trying to look for purpose.”
>>
“My daughter was not a girl, not yet a woman. All she needed was time, a moment that was hers while she stayed in between. She’s not a girl but if you looked into her eyes, you will know, she will always find her way. Yet again, she is not a woman enough to wear a sari except in the mirror…”
So as the mother and the daughter left for lunch, the sari lay casually on the bed. It surely highlighted and enhanced the mother-daughter relationship and the realization of a various things unsaid. A nine yard of unstitched material it might be, but look! What it did the women?!
I can just say one thing- bingo!!
itz simply the best!!!!!!
ReplyDeletethanks a lot. :)
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