Saree

Saree

Durga Puja. Festive season. New clothes. Class VIII. Dad said “ No more frocks. Legs should not be visible. You are growing up. Skirts? Worse still.” Brought up to resist Jeans, Shiuli opted for salwar suits. Why wear boys’stuff! Ma suggested “ Why not take a saree this time? Since your Dad is bent on tradition, you are free to own your first Saree this year Shiuli!” How sweet! A saree? All hers? Shiuli started fascinating on what sort of a saree she would choose for herself..the colour..the material..the design…the print…

It was a silk saree- cream base,violet print. Ma tried to transfer it to her own account, the colour being so light,and wanted to get for Shiuli a nice gaudy one,preferably,red. But Shiuli did not allow this change. As for Dad, he was happy,as long as it wasn’t skirts or frocks.

Ashtami. The day for putting on your best outfit. She wore it. Ma helped her wrap herself up. Smiled. Said “ It does not look all that light and dull after wearing.” Dad replied proudly “ My daughter will look good in anything she puts on.”

Shiuli stood in front of the mirror. Walked forward and backward..as if vacillating unconsciously. A new feeling! Legs no longer seemed legs, only a vague realization of an unreliable support below. Steps became shorter, and harder to take.Movement was stifled. Certain parts were suddenly exposed. As she moved in front of the mirror, Shiuli saw the pleats of the saree dangling. It was no longer moving..only shifting, rolling. The thighs were sweating. Legs were impatient to assert their presence… So were the breasts, protesting that they had done nothing so criminal as to deserve this additional covering…
Shiuli had cried the day she was forced to put on an additonal undergarment for her developing breasts…but now, it was alright. That suffocation was no longer there so intensely. And then she saw that lovely printed part of the cumbersome cloth dangling freely behind her..aanchol- as if the child of the saree,treated most carefully by those who make it and she who wears it, resembling the saree, yet different from it.

Years later, Shiuli was packing tiffin for Riya and Titli. Thighs were still sweating. Pleats were still dangling. Shiuli was no longer aware. “Ma”,said Riya, “We have our farewell function tomorrow. Can I wear that Dhakai of yours please?”. Shiuli replied, “not that one dear, it is so light! I shall take out those colourful sarees for you which I once wore..”
The girls kissed their mother goodbye, and left for school.

Shiuli went to the old cupboard. Opened it. Locked within were a wide range of bright colours, once a part of her life. She took out the maroon and navyblue kanjivaram. Riya would sparkle in this saree, she thought as she tucked her aanchol into her waist, maintaining the unity of generations.