1930, 1965, 2005...

note: this post was originally a caption for this picture on fotolog. it outgrew that 5000-character space so i transplanted it here, for the benefit of the lovely people who avidly adore le flog. oh, and you. if you like. :)

putting on bangles, before going out.

:+:

so i'm a little late with this "final" picture in the "awesomest sari i’ve ever worn" series. :)

this picture was taken on christmas eve, before a dinner with about twenty people (mostly aunties and uncles).

the restaurant choice was regrettable,
the company of those who populated the "younger" span of the continuum was less than coruscating and
the menu was not interested in pleasing herbivores,
but the night shimmers forever in my memory...

...because of those six yards of silk. the most unforgettable, inimitable, matchless silk i have ever worn.

i didn't know it existed, but somehow, i don't think the converse is true. i think it was waiting for someone, and i was lucky enough to her.

:+:

"beta, why don't you stay tonight as well? don't go back so late..."

"uncle, i wish i had planned for this and packed more clothes! i'd love to go to the dinner, but i came last night expecting to leave this morning...in my pajamas!"

"you didn't bring anything else?"

"all i have is the red sari from last night...which i'm sure will be fresh in everyone's memory...and this suit i'm wearing now..."

uncle frowned. "yes. everyone who was here last night will be at this dinner...that won't do. the sari won't work."

"it's okay, uncle...another time. honestly, this is unbelievable. i always over-pack for EVERYTHING. the ONE TIME i try and be efficient...look what happens!"

though i was laughing, i was inwardly surprised that the oxblood salwar kameez i had on wasn't "good enough". it had a delicate, filigreed sort of embroidery near my neck and a smattering of flashing beads across the front. it was simple, but pretty enough for a mere dinner. what kind of event was i planning to miss?

uncle read my mind. "you can't wear that suit, either."

i could feel my sparse brows ready to collide like two metro trains on the red line...i am always over-dressed, for every event. that's just me. given the choice, i'd obviously prefer to wear something prettier than some salwar, but the vast majority of women i knew would happily adorn themselves in the finery i was now scrutinizing, for church, parties, dinners...whatever. besides, for the umpteenth time, i hadn't brought anything else! this was maddening.

in the critical second before my forehead embraced new wrinkles, uncle's eyes widened. "i've got it," he muttered. up the stairs he went, moving swiftly for a man who was as old as my father would be, were he alive today.

i followed him, but stopped shyly when he reached his bedroom door. it felt like an invisible wall stood before me. you just don't *go there*.

normally, i think my very proper, refined uncle would agree. this was the exception to confirm that rule, however.

"come, beta. look."

i hesitated for a few moments, then padded over to the largest master bedroom closet i've ever seen. uncle was to my left, moving a large box...i felt like i was in a movie. everything slowed down. i heard wind chimes in my mind, and immediately decided to fire my mental sound effects guy. how hokey.

i grew up without the benefit of grandparents; i grew up without an attic full of old clothes, i grew up with a mother who didn’t believe in saving “useless things”, things which i’d consider relics. the memory of being six-years old, at my best friend francesca’s house came roaring back…she was playing dress-up, and i was watching, too shy and unsure to join her. “what’s wrong with you,” she demanded impatiently. “i’ve never done that…” was my reply. when i went home afterwards, i shyly approached my mother in the kitchen. she was stirring a curry while looking at a different pot full of rice. my sister toddled about her legs. “mummy, can i play dress-up? do you have old clothes, too?”

“go find something that isn’t worthless to do,” she snapped in malayalam, before i turned away in tears.

:+:

uncle had carefully discarded the box which was probably too heavy for him. before i could berate myself for letting him lift so much, he was yanking a non-descript piece of fabric off of something, with a flourish. it reminded me of a magician, unveiling the denouement of his act...

"booty," i murmured, feeling delighted and apprehensive all at once.

"what?"

i shook my head. "nothing, uncle...sorry." it looked like a pirate's treasure chest, and my inability to suppress my lunatic inner monologue had manifested, yet again.

latches were unsnapped, and a creak that was worthy of a horror film snaked through my ears.

"these belonged to auntie," he quietly said.

i was almost shocked mute. "have...you..."

"have i opened it since? no, beta..."

twenty years? TWENTY YEARS had passed since the legendary silks and chiffons within had been touched? my mind reeled, and as uncle methodically flipped through each folded square, wrinkles unmolded from two decades of waiting, faint strains of rare perfume escaped, and an anxious slideshow of every picture i've ever seen of auntie commenced in my head (uncle was and is quite the photographer, you see...look at the picture above, look at the camera that was used).

"i gave away hundreds," he informed me, his voice low. "who would wear them again?" uncle had no daughters. he now had one daughter-in-law, but she detested saris, barely wore indian clothes. "when raj married _____, i thought, maybe...but she does not wear these things."

i thought i was going to faint. auntie was a creature of myth, rarer than unicorns as far as i was concerned. during the go-go 80s, she went to fashion week. she was halston's "hag". HALSTON. when every other auntie bought a handbag at kmart, auntie swept into gucci for accessories. her love of fashion evolved until she owned her own boutique, for fun, and at this improbable business, her designs were addictive to the moneyed MILFs who were crazy for her wit, her opinion, her talent.

do you have any idea what kind of clothes this woman had?

a good fifteen minutes had passed, and uncle was still cataloguing fabric. the immaculate new closet floor looked as if a bombay sari palace had ulti'd all over it. "there's this...and this...oh, and this." each square fell with an aristocratic thud to the ground, as uncle narrated its history: where it came from, who bought it, what event auntie had made others jealous with it at...

uncle selected a classic red benares silk. "it's christmas! perhaps you could wear this?"

i had my heart set on something else, an aquamarine dream of filmy perfection that reminded me of a dress valentino had once designed for the red carpet.

uncle smiled at me pleasantly. "no, beta. wear the red."

too meek to voice my considerable longing (and still battered by the shock of it all) i nodded.

a few moments later, i had an epiphany that threatened to derail my cinderella story. "uncle...ah...i would love to wear ANY of these, they're magnificent..."

"but?"

"but...where are the...blouses..."

uncle dropped a seventh shahtoosh shawl on the pile of fabric riches. "oh! i have not seen any, beta!"

i nodded glumly and helped him sift through the remainder of the trunk. nothing.

"maybe you could wear the blouse you wore yesterday? it was red, na?"

i knew it wasn't the same red, but i dutifully went to my guest room, carefully picked up the glorious new blouse my aunt had sent me from india, and returned to the closet-treasure chest with it. i laid it solemntly on top of the sari.

"that goes...doesn't it?" i didn't reply. uncle kept looking, then he cocked his head to the right. after squinting for a second, he sighed. "it does not go."

like a wistful teenager, i picked up the aquamarine dream. unbelievably, improbably, the jewels that glittered from it were the same colour as my singular blouse.

"no, beta." he pronounced reluctantly.

"if it were summer...", i started.

"exactly."

we both sat amid the silk, feeling forlorn. just when i was about to excuse myself from the event, uncle moved his hand through the pile to his left. he slowly removed a special bundle. "there's this..." his voice trailed off.

cliched as it might seem, i gasped. no bleeding way. no WAY.

"you'd have to be very careful..."

"of COURSE, uncle!"

i was terrified. part of me didn't want the responsibility of wearing something so treasured, so irreplacable. i think he sensed this, and that's why he looked me in the eye and said, "who else can wear it, but you? it sat here and did no one any good. tonight, it means you can stay. i can't let you leave for lack of an outfit when such things lie unused..."

"thing" was an injustice as far as this sari was concerned. legacy. asset. heirloom.

perfection.

"seventy-five years ago, my mother made that border by hand. it took her months to embroider and bead it. when i married your auntie, she teased her and said, 'you are marrying my youngest-- that means he's not bringing any inheritance with him. all you are getting is this.'...auntie laughed and accepted it happily, saying it was more than she needed. this was forty years ago. your auntie searched for the perfect fabric and made this. she didn't trust anyone with this border, so she stitched it herself...look."

he flipped over the area he had been cradling, and i saw tiny, careful, perfectly even islands of thread rising from the silk. eighteen feet of them. she had painstakingly attached it herself. i passed the border through my hands until i reached the pallu. i wasn't surprised to see a flawless job.

"uncle...i can't believe you're letting me wear this. i don't think i should. it's too important-"

"just be careful, beta. she'd want you to wear it. she'd want it to be seen again."

:+:

Comments

[amit]

wow, i can't believe she stitched that together. it looks amazing!

[sanoj]

Dear,

With all you pics you make me lose control you look like the girl in
http://www.URLremovedbyANNA.com

check out

is that you ????

[Jana]

Now that's a touching story...it nearly brought a tear to my eye. And for a second - the fact that i've got three thousand deadlines drenched in the putrid odour of mass chaos - doesn't seem to matter. So, thank you.

The sari is gorgeous. Actually, scratch that. Gorgeous just doesn't cut it. It's heavenly. Spun together by nimble fingers of celestial beings. I love it!

And im envious. My amma wasn't a pack rat either. She made letting go an artform - clothes, people, memorabilia...all of the above. I never played dressup and at 27, I'm definitely making up for it.

Enjoy your treasure chest m'dear and may you bask in the warmth of silk sari's, musky memories and veritable booty!

Cheers,
Jana

[anon]

Sanoj, you are sick. Go now and die in whatever way suits you best.

[Amardeep]

Wow, nice story. I don't think people of our generation have any concept of the labor involved in producing something like that!

On a somewhat unrelated note, have you read Rupa Bajwa's novel "The Sari Shop"? It's not a perfect novel by any means, but I liked her descriptions of the sari business, shopping ritual, class issues in today's India, and sex/gender ugliness in Punjab. You might like it...

It's available in most U.S. bookstores.

[brimful]

Swoon!! I love aged silk. And old saris seem to have much more impressive work on them (even moreso when a loved one did all of it). I wore a 30-year old sari of my mother's so many times that she threw it away to try to force me to wear more "up-to-date" clothing. Obviously, our mothers have the same approach to keeping old treasures!

[andrea]

The night before you posted this, I had a dream that you gave me a hot pink sari with red embroidered in it... very strange...

that is sooooo beautiful.... would look good with a black blouse too, of course... wow... i'm speechless.

[amietoo]

well I don't know about anyone else, but that made me cry!! When I was little I was always so envious of the Indian girl in my class, with her smooth, dark skin, huge, deep eyes and quiet way of speaking. she hated that she was different, but I wished I could be so badly. For grad 2 years ago, she surprised us all by not following western convention and wore a beautiful blue sari. she was by far the belle that night. I was really proud of her too, for finally holding her head high and showing all of us that she was proud of her background. she is the most beautiful girl I know.

[love]

pl. help us women pl.
http://www.petitiononline.com/leilaa/

[biju]

that was an amazing story. pretty brave of you to don an heirloom like that. you did it justice girl.

[Sanoj]

Thanks a lot anna for wishing me death guised as anon :))

love

[andrea]

sanoj - i doubt that was anna. she'd be a bit more verbally scathing than THAT.

if you had read her blog thoroughly, you'd know that porn is probably the LAST thing Anna would do. Failing that, wouldn't it have been more discreet to ask her that privately if you just had to know?

and a general comment : living in the Bible Belt, I can't really fault anyone for being both fanatically religious and a closet porn watcher. The two are not mutually exclusive, and sometimes one is a consequence of the other. You see it a lot 'round these parts. I also don't think it's hypocritical to be religious and watch porn. What IS hypocritical is to walk around religiously preaching the evils of porn and THEN watching it yourself.

but remember... discretion is ALWAYS a good thing, especially in dealings with people you don't actually know. Even though it's NOT her on the site, I bet she was embarrassed to read that comment up there and know that others read it too. Would you want the same for your real-life sister, or your daughter? Ask yourself before posting such things.

[julie]

that's a great story. unfortunately, my mom wasn't much of pack rat either. the few things she brought with her to America in 1970 were ruined after the fire, so i never really got to play dress up and enjoy the old finery.

i'm were able to play "dress up" even if it was 20 years later. that just makes it all the more worth it b/c you can do justice to the beautiful creation now. =)

[Sin]

Remind me, one day, to send you pictures of my Ammi's saris from back in the day. God knows I'm never going to wear them...

[Niki]

My mom's 'manthrakodi' was all ruined and still to this day I yell @ her for not taking good care of it.
You look beautiful in that sari!

[Guava]

I don't remember doing the dress-up thing, and can't picture how I would've done that with saris back when I was about three feet tall. I am mostly a salwar gal, but I can appreciate an awesome border like the one on that sari. What a treasure.

[tarf]

Good post, Anna.

Sanoj, if you read this, please send the URL with the pics to tarf@rediffmail.com. Much obliged, thank you.

[Lowered Eyes]

I didn't actually think you would mind, but I would like to ask if it was all right if I linked your site on my blog?

I've been enjoying your writing since the piece on the Bhopal disaster.

[Twilight Fairy]

that's an interesting anecdote.. and that's a beautiful saree! :)

[Rajiv]

Wow, how beautiful! You are truly blessed. Not just because you come across such beautiful people, places and incidences, but mostly because you are gifted with such a beautiful mind. You seem to notice elusive moments that pass the rest of us by.

I normally hate reading. This is the first time I have thoroughly read a whole story, despite the pile of work in my 'in tray'.

Thanks for sharing your beautiful moments with others, and may God bless you Anna :)

[Blurker Ancien]

Lowered Eyes,

I'm sure she wouldn't mind. In a world where Rohan Pinto gets virtually lynched, (and rightfully so) linking is the sincerest and most just form of flattery. ;-)

[Preeti]

Lovely story. I had tears while reading... I think I'll be around more often, I love your writing.

[Swaroop C H]

Wonderful story :) ... reminds me of 'old is gold' but more appropriately 'love never fades'.

[safia]

Hi Anna. I chanced upon your blog earlier today, randomly started reading "1930, 1965, 2005..." and was gripped by the story almost immediately. It brought tears to my eyes. I love the Indian vocab you include in your writing... words like "beta" and "ulti"... :)

I decided to leave you this note in praise of your blog. You write very well and I can see why you would win the Blog Awards.

Keep writing! :)

[Gina]

... I'm stunned to silence. Your writing is beyond beautiful... eloquence beyond comparison... the essence of all the is perfect in the world, wrapped neatly under your nimble fingertips. May your mind forever dance with such creative splendor...

I feel blessed to have come across this site!

~Gina Marie