As a member of an inspection team on entering the biotechnology lab, we found a group of youngsters huddled before an enormous gadget oblivious to the intrusion. “Where is your teacher?” questioned the head. “I am!” replied an embarrassed petite girl. No distinction between the teacher and taught. The incident triggered a flashback.
The day I joined as lecturer, the formalities done, a shocker hit me: Sarees on teaching days. The diktat sounded archaic yet I nodded timidly. The initial days were a whirlwind of activity: Preparing lectures and planning sarees.
My saviour, Ma, opened the doors of her treasure. All these years, I had admired her draping the six yards elegantly each morning. With oodles of patience she taught me the subtle nuances of carrying a saree gracefully. During the early days while a prim and proper, sophisticated, feminine me walked in the college gate, a disarrayed, sloppy, ‘ghaghra’ clad nomadic me flopped back home. Post a few mishaps – a tear here, a big rip there, tripping over the hemline, I mastered the art, slowly but surely. Pretty soon, the saree folds enfolded my heart. Today, I am a diehard follower. I can drape it in a jiffy and carry it effortlessly all through the day.
The nine yards symbolise our cultural heritage and tradition. The diversity of our nation is reflected in multiple styles and region-specific fabric. Wander lust is ingrained in my blood. Traversing across the country, I unfailingly buy a saree as a souvenir. From bright bandhini/lehariya from Rajasthan, gorgeous silk of the southern peninsula, royal Banarsi brocade, Lakhnawi hand work, crisp tant Bengali weaves, sheer wispy chiffons to gorgeous chinons, my humble collection has grown over the years. The sarees cover a vast arena – from vibrant to sober, from poppy to sombre – in a humongous pallet and budget.
{{/usCountry}}The nine yards symbolise our cultural heritage and tradition. The diversity of our nation is reflected in multiple styles and region-specific fabric. Wander lust is ingrained in my blood. Traversing across the country, I unfailingly buy a saree as a souvenir. From bright bandhini/lehariya from Rajasthan, gorgeous silk of the southern peninsula, royal Banarsi brocade, Lakhnawi hand work, crisp tant Bengali weaves, sheer wispy chiffons to gorgeous chinons, my humble collection has grown over the years. The sarees cover a vast arena – from vibrant to sober, from poppy to sombre – in a humongous pallet and budget.
{{/usCountry}}Modernisation at times is misinterpreted as westernisation. The saree was relegated into old-fashioned, elderly attire and cumbersome. While Bollywood has promoted the saree in all its forms: Sacrificial matronly to rain-drenched, curve-hugging voluptuous sensuous to skimpy vibrant snow-sashing. Daily soaps have promoted elaborate flashy ones with matching accessories. Contemporary women, too, have been entrapped in the allure with ready-to-wear versions and a vast array of comfortable easy maintenance in multitudinous fabric to choose from.
Today, it has bounced back as one of the most fashionable yet traditional attire, a strong statement of elegance and femininity. There is a saree for every occasion, for every mood.
As the dress code in educational institutions or hospitality or corporate sectors, it has marked an indelible presence.
This World Saree Day on December 21, let us drape the legacy of our ancestors, rejoice and celebrate its glory. kalrasuruchi@yahoo.com
The writer is associate professor of English at Hindu Girls College, Jagadhri