Spice of life: Ready to embrace the romance of ‘rani pink’
It’s the effervescent laughter of a bride, the warmth of a sunset, the vibrance of a festival, and the unapologetic confidence of a woman who knows her worth. It’s India, in all her glorious contradictions —timeless yet trendy, subtle yet screaming
When I got married, my trousseau was nothing short of a vibrant showcase of Indian textiles. Each sari lovingly handpicked by my mother was a masterpiece — Odisha’s Ikats, Maharashtra’s Paithanis, Andhra Pradesh’s Pochampallis, Tamil Nadu’s Kanjeevarams, Assamese Muga silk, Mysore silk, and Rajasthani Bandhanis. It was as if she had raided every state with a vengeance. The pièce de résistance, however, was the omnipresent “rani pink” colour.
Yes, it was that shocking pink shade with a personality so loud that it could have its own reality show.
My mother, a quintessential Virgo with an unshakeable belief in the magic of all things feminine, had an unapologetic love for pink. Not just any pink, but “rani pink”, the boldest, brightest hue in the spectrum. She probably thought that draping me in it was akin to adorning me with a layer of confidence and feminine magic.
Historically, queens and royalty in India wore brightly coloured garments, and this vivid shade of pink became associated with regal elegance, hence the sobriquet ‘rani pink’. Interestingly, in Western design circles, ‘rani pink’, fuchsia, magenta, and hot pink have sometimes been collectively referred to as “the Indian black”, acknowledging their ubiquitous presence in Indian fashion.
Unfortunately, twenty-something me was a minimalist snob who thought browns, beiges, whites, and blacks were the colours of sophistication.
In a misguided attempt to tone down the vibrance, I committed the ultimate sartorial sin, I had some of those exquisite pinks dyed into neutral tones. Yes, I took ‘rani pink’ and turned it into, well, muddy browns. Looking back, it’s a miracle my mother didn’t disown me.
But life, like a sari, comes full circle and guess who’s dominating the spotlight and having a moment on the Indian fashion scene? ‘Rani pink’. The shade is everywhere, from winter weddings to high-fashion magazines to boutique racks, unapologetically screaming, “I’m here, and beige is passe.”
I couldn’t escape it, nor did I want to anymore. Somewhere deep in my soul, the seeds of pink had been planted long ago, and they had finally bloomed. I rummaged through my wardrobe like a treasure hunter and pulled out a ‘rani pink’ sari that had survived my youthful stupidity. As I draped myself in it, something magical happened — it was as if I had stepped into a spotlight. Compliments rained down on my sari like confetti. And for the first time, I believed them.
It hit me then that ‘rani pink’ is not just a colour, it’s an attitude. It’s the effervescent laughter of a bride, the warmth of a sunset, the vibrance of a festival, and the unapologetic confidence of a woman who knows her worth. It’s India, in all her glorious contradictions —timeless yet trendy, subtle yet screaming.
So here I am, a proud ‘rani pink’ convert, ready to embrace its romance wholeheartedly. My mother, of course, has been enjoying this victory for a while now. “Told you so,” she says with a triumphant smirk as bright as the sari I’m wearing. And honestly, she’s not wrong. It turns out ‘rani pink’ isn’t just a colour or an attitude, it’s a legacy. And like all good legacies, it refuses to fade.
punamsidhu@gmail.com
The writer is a Chandigarh-based former Indian Revenue Service officer