The yellow saree

 The yellow saree.

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My father bought this saree for my mother 40 years ago from weavers in Gadwal somewhere in 1984 or 85.; I was around 9 or 10 when I witnessed my parents discussing the saree.

Then, he was a member of the Telugu Desam party and Zilla Parishad, chairman of Adilabad.

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I was sitting on the double cot in my parent's bedroom when my father opened his suitcase and handed over the saree to my mother.

She took it in her hands, opened and spread it on the bed; I shifted aside, making space for the beautiful saree!

My mother made a face. "Why yellow?. Why do you want me to match with the Telugu Desam party color?" she unhesitatingly asked.

Watching from the sidelines, I worried it would escalate into a heated argument.

But my father smiled gently, "It will look good on you as you have a fair complexion. I like yellow, and when you accompany me to events, you can wear this."

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My mother was not fond of the color; she draped it rarely, and it had been folded away over the years, only making rare appearances at small events.

 Now, eighteen years after my mother left us, the saree is still lying in one corner of the wardrobe, a relic of a time gone by.

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Today,  I draped it for the first time, still feeling the warmness of her presence as though receiving her blessings in the touch of the fabric.

It is not just about the saree —but the memories woven into its threads. The saree had seen my mother's journey and my father's love for her, and now it is becoming a part of my life.

Draping it today felt like embracing her presence and blessings on a day like Karwa Chauth.

Unlike my mother's generation, who had smaller wardrobes and simpler lives, We have closets overflowing with clothes, but few items carry the importance of emotions like this yellow saree.

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I often tell my husband that we are like nomadic tribes. We were born in one place, raised in another, attended college in another city, married, and then moved to a different city. Finally, our work has brought us to an entirely new geographical location.

We have been gathering a bit of everything from every place we lived. The best part about us is that we are flexible and ready to adapt, accept, and evolve. We enjoy the exposure to different cities, cultures, languages, foods, and customs.

I cannot understand people who resist learning a new language(like in Karnataka). It is a blessing to experience so much newness in life.

Exploring ethnic festivities, listening to the folklore behind each of them, and understanding the reasons and logic behind each celebration is a choice we made long ago. I believe that the more I know, the happier my atma becomes.

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One beautiful festivity I am introduced to in the quest for newness is Karwa Chauth and the emotion behind its celebration. 

Fasting for the long life of the person we want to spend the rest of our life with; how beautiful is that?

There are no ifs and buts when praying for your loved ones. No reason, no logic, can deter me because nothing rewards like faith. If we have faith in anything, it will return to us with the gifts we seek. Trust in it and see the results for yourself.

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This old yellow saree, once barely worn, is now a bridge to the many lives I  lived in the spaces between then and now.

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Thank you, Mithila and Daman, for having me over and integrating me into your culture.

Thanks to all the fantastic friends who helped me feel at home .

Do send me all the pictures dear sakhis, I will save them for posterity!