Grow up to a Saree

 “I don’t want to be stuck in a government office wearing a cotton saree”, that’s the reason my neighbour’s daughter gave me, when I asked her if she ever considered following in the footsteps of her bureaucrat mother. Ridiculous as it might seem, that’s the way “Youngistan” thinks of sarees. Good for government offices or weddings, but too much of a hassle for everyday wear, too old world! So it’s not too surprising when every time I wear a saree, I am greeted by incredulous looks. “A saree?”, “How come a Saree?” or “What made you take the effort of draping a saree?” are a few vocalised raised eyebrows. Why not? I wonder.

Convenience seems to be the most common reason for not wearing this traditional Indian piece of feminine clothing. And sure enough in our sales-pitch-at-office-maid-AWOL-child-down-with-fever-inlaws-are-expected scenario, it definitely seems easier to just slip into a trouser. Yet there is an army of women who practically live their whole lives in sarees. Anyone travelling by local trains in Mumbai is sure to witness multitudes of women, who must have woken up at the crack of dawn to cook, pack off kids to school, draped a saree and sprinted to board a 8:13am train to reach office on time. You’ll meet them again in the evening, not a pleat out of place, all geared up to fight their way in the already bursting-at-its-seams local train, in a hurry to get back home and continue their buzzing lives.

Then there are the home-maker kinds as well. Speaking of which reminds me of my mother. I’ve always seen her in a saree. Growing up with a bureaucrat father, we were posted in the remote corners of Maharashtra state; where for a good part of the 80’s one could not find bread or ice-cream! Yet one could find sarees from various corners of India! My father’s colleagues came from different parts of the country. And their wives had trunk-fulls of sarees – the prized wedding saree, the everyday wear cotton one and the slightly formal one for party wear. There weren’t many socializing options at the time, but people made time to visit each other at home (another tradition losing popularity!) And dinner wasn’t ordered in (Yeah, it’s humanly possible!), but cooked at home. Ladies came in proudly wearing their sarees from their home-state. Anyway, to carry on the point, I was introduced to the rich textile traditions of India pretty early on. Of course I was an eager listener to all the wonderful conversations about sarees and food that would take place at these get-togethers. The evening usually ended with recipe-swapping and promises of bringing back new sarees from the respective next home-town visits.  So you see, sitting in a remote corner of Maharashtra, my mother learned the secret of making the softest of Idlis, the spongiest of Dhoklas and even Hyderabadi biryani. Not to mention the ever expanding wardrobe of Kota cotton, Kanjeevaram and Pochampally silks! Perks of the hubby’s job, one might conclude. Also being a bureaucrat, my father was required to travel for various official meetings and training sessions to various parts of the country, which was always welcome. Because it meant that wherever he went, he picked up a local weave for mummy! I remember the time when my father was posted in Nashik, close to Yeola…the home of the Paithani saree. Mainly because the ladies of our extended family became proud owners of the Paithani saree, known for its time consuming tapestry weave.

At the time, it seemed “Saree influencers” were everywhere. The elegantly dressed Air-India hostesses who popularised the “pinned-up air-hostess” saree drape! Unfortunately the newer airlines seem to have traded the elegant attire for tight, short skirts. And who can forget the very elegant and classy anchors of Doordarshan. They pretty much dictated which sarees flooded the market soon after! And yes, I also remember Shabana Azmi in movies like ‘Swami’ and ‘Apne Payare’, wearing crisp Bengal cottons. Not to forget the teachers of my Delhi school, who turned up in crisp cottons in summers and lovely silks paired with smart jackets in winters.

When I look back, it seems that my mother spent a lot of time in her sarees as well as in taking care of them. She was and is incredibly proud and possessive of her sarees. Every morning after she packed me and my sister off to school and my father to office, she used to bathe and wear a crisp cotton saree. She effortlessly went about her daily chores in a saree; cooking, shopping for vegetables, having tea with friends, socializing at the club, all that while maintaining the crispness of her saree. And it didn’t come easy. Come summers, she undertook the ritual of starching the cotton sarees. An unthinkable ordeal! She home-made the starch by boiling Saboodana, dipping the cotton in this sticky liquid and drying them in scorching sun. The entire household staff would pitch in, while we kids were not allowed near the hot boiling, foul smelling Saboodana liquid, thank God for that. These freshly starched sarees would last her for a few washes. And then the ordeal would repeat.

She was also nightmarishly particular about storing her sarees. All her silks were stored in a trunk, individually wrapped in muslin. We enjoyed making small potlis of muslin filled with spices, not to forget the neem leaves which worked as natural moth repellents. These sarees were regularly aired and the folds changed. During this process, my sister and I would have happily jumped into this heap of soft silk of rainbow coloured cloth, but for the eagle eyes of the lady of the house! She even ironed her zari silks herself, by placing a muslin cloth over the saree, irritatingly time-consuming, but she preferred that over trusting the Dhobi.

Many-a-times I wonder where did my mother inherit this love for the saree. My naani, having migrated from Pakistan after the partition, never wore a saree and till this day proudly wears the Pakistani salwar! But my mother still behaves like a child in a candy shop, when in a saree store; and if left unattended will pick up a few handfuls! Of course, buying a saree is not enough for her; she loves the whole process of visiting a “matching center” to pick out the exact shade of petticoats and blouses.

Both, my sister and I, have inherited her love for sarees and Indian textiles. Not to mention her Kanjeevarams. My younger sister wears a saree to work every day, and it takes her 5 minutes to drape one. Here’s the little secret; it doesn’t take a long time to drape, yet people believe that you’ve made an effort to dress up!

It’s sad that many women today are ditching the saree for western outfits. Not anything wrong with wearing skirts and trousers, but please do make some space for the saree in your wardrobe. Many believe that a saree would make them look older. Nothing could be farther from the truth. On the contrary; there is nothing more feminine and elegant than it. The soft, fluid saree takes the shape of your body and enhances your personality. You can take a saree anywhere.

Even though I say that the younger generation is reluctant to adopt the saree; this seems to be the most exciting time for it. A lot of cross-regional techniques are blending with contemporary designs and patterns resulting in a metamorphosed new age garment. Lucknowi chikankari on the sheer chanderi, khadi with natural dyed hand block print, Mangalgiri weave meets age-old ajrakh, Ikats with kalamkari, the options are unlimited. The young guns of Indian fashion are pulling out all stops in contemporising this fantastic garment.  And its fluidity lends itself beautifully to the new world order. The magic of the one-size-fits-all garment keeps one enthralled. It is wild & whacky, traditional & sedate, it’s all in one. Organic and socially engaging, it walks tall and holds its own. Wherever you take it!

Every piece of attire has its place and a saree has been a part of our culture and tradition for time immemorial. Give it the rightful place it deserves in your wardrobe.



Photo courtesy: Sudar FM