Creative Writing Journal

My mother’s obsession with sarees has a lot to do with her relationship that she has with her mother, whose choice of colours for her sarees deemed highly of who she is as a person. I’ve never seen her wear the colours that my mother now has a habit of wearing. Maa’s wardrobe now boasts a varied collection from almost every corner of the country. The ones on Banarasi Silk and Bhagalpuri prints are very rare pieces that she dons on very special occasions only. I’ve never seen my Naani (grandmother) with anything except crimson shades of Blue and light Pink Khatau Cotton sarees. For her to get Maa a Chanderi Silk saree for her marriage in 1989 which has a subtle variation of every possible colour that is there; my mother proudly calls it Satrangi because it has all the colours that her mother was never really comfortable with, which is something that’s reminiscent of the equation that they share. I find it symbolic to the history and culture of Mughals, Rajputs and Marathas that Chanderi Silk carries. I now find the traces of their relationship in our house lying on her dressing table sometimes and sometimes through the 10 minute phone calls that she shares with her very rarely. I wish to trace back these impressions whenever my mother is comfortable in letting me find my shade of Chanderi which I know is somewhere deeply embedded in the invisible corners of her wardrobe. I think she is going to wear it today.