6 yards of nostalgia

Sarah Huda
Jul 23, 2017 · 4 min read

I was color averse and bling phobic in my teens and in my early 20s which carried on almost till my 30s. Till I took to wearing the beautiful yards of saree of course. It became my fixture after my baby was born. I think sarees singularly kept post par-tum depression away from me. The waxing and waning self found a forgiving partner in the 6 yards after all. Plus we go back to our roots as we move along . I did find mother-hood maturing me. Don’t ask me why. I just did.

Hand embroidered organza saree by my husband’s late maternal grandmother, 82/100 #100sareepact

I have always gawked at my mother draping her sarees. It usually meant 1) she would be cross if you bugged her during her Ma to Mrs H transformation by touching her trinkets when I was small 2) she would be cross if she saw you too happy to see her all dressed and gone soon to muck around with study time when I was not too small. Best was to look neutral. But it was more than just looking. It was loving every little thing Ma did and still does. The 4 inch heels have given way to kitten heels but she turns heads. At home and outside.

Having bought many a sarees, my heisse liebe is the Mekhla. The traditional Assamese attire. Easy to drape, this two piece ensemble looks like a saree but isn’t quite a saree. They do look the best on Assamese women somehow. It’s the typical soft, tad slow way of life. Or maybe the moon faced round faces with frank eyes and ready smiles. Very maasor tenga and bhaat ( tomato sour fish curry with rice) I would say. Or maybe I am just romanticising. I go hunting for mekhlas with a hunter’s acumen when I go to Assam. My father also joins the fun search with Ma and I. He has to be the cutest father on planet earth. His constant feedback is taken very seriously by both us ladies. Now we have another daughter in the family. She is a fun darling too.

Cotton Mekhla Chaddar from Assam. I love teaming my Mekhlas with halters and cholis. Sometimes even crop tops.

I have collected sarees and Mekhlas from quite many sources. Bought them, got them as gifts and taken a few as souvenirs: from my two aunts, my paternal grandmother, one even from my husband’s grandmother: hand embroidered red rosettes. I plan to pass them off to the tot and I hope she wears them too.

Sarees … they mean some kind of nostalgia. I survived a 100 Saree pact year two years ago. It was fun and oh the obsession. It reached a point where I was willing to raid even the linen closet. For instance there was this kalamkari pillow cover that made me wonder …. er a blouse may be ?

I had two sources of getting my blouses stitched. One high end boutique owner who talked about silhouettes and tucks and darts and how beautifully my blouse gloved over my back. She was being nice. I was one lumpy woman with a recent child birth. My not very high end tailor, one Ahmed, well he was a piece of art. He knew my anthropometric dimensions much better than anyone. It is hilarious the intimacy you develop with not very high end people. They are devoid of affectations and fake veneer. He, sir, would actually say things like “ Didi, aap bohot mote ho gaye ho, toh mein inseam zyaada dalta hoon” … which translates to “sistah you are one fatso! I have to put more fabric along the inseam”. I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to feel grateful for his observation and proactive stance or clobber him to death for calling me fat on my face. The nerve!!

I miss draping them sarees here in Singapore. I do wear them but not very often, not as prolifically as I would ideally love to. Maintaining the ones I have need time, effort and well money… all the dry cleaning and steam ironing. Uh huh sisters that ain’t coming cheap!!

What is it about aging? Why do suddenly all those things to which we show high dosage of callous indifference start mattering to us? Do we pause and wonder because being an iconoclast doesn’t cut it anymore? I don’t know. Home made food, warm company of few good friends, old flannel pyjamas, a tattered old T… funnily become our lovies.

I will show some love to my Sarees today… Get them out and sun them. Remember the times I played home n mommy when I was little. What’s the harm in just draping one sometimes just for ourselves and feel … all grown up and not so either eh?

Sarah Huda

Written by

Published Author of 25th Floor Baubles : An Anthology of Hundred Poems. Available on ISBN

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