Choosing A Graduation Gift For My Daughter
Not an object to unwrap but an experience to cherish
She chose the yellow sari. Not fuchsia, not turquoise, not purple. From the neatly arranged piles of saris made of silk, linen, and cotton, she picked the bright yellow one. Six yards of soft silk, plain and lustrous, like a ripe mango lit up with sunshine, its borders hand-painted in bold, primary colors, the sari beckoned to her.
I watched my 22-year-old daughter pick the yellow silk sari, just as my mother had watched me choose a sari 30 years ago. Knowing my preference for deep reds and brilliant greens, she had reminded, gently, that I needed to choose a yellow one for the wedding ceremony.
Amma wore saris every day. I did not. But I was getting married. The yellow sari was the first sari in my trousseau, the first sari explicitly purchased for me, a harbinger of all the firsts that lay ahead.
Tracing the path of a time-worn tradition
I am the same age now as Amma was when I left India after marrying the boy my parents had chosen for me. It wasn’t as awful as it sounds. I was not given away in a transaction without my consent. Our meeting was arranged by elders. Both of us said yes. Three weeks later we were married. Six weeks later I was on a…
