Saree Story: A Personal journey Across Memory, Space and Time

By Sharmistha Sarkar

When my dear sister Anindita asked me to write, I said, “What!!! I have never written much except for school essays and a few FB posts here and there.” But when I heard the topic, I knew I had to write. I knew it was a deep personal journey for me which was special in every sense of the term. I was apprehensive at first and did not know whether words will flow out but when I started to write it was spontaneous and took me back in time. Sarees have always been very close to heart, and I share a long and deeply personal association with them.

The first memory of the saree is the anchal of my mother’s saree that I used to wipe off my face as a child. I hid myself behind it and wrapped it around me like a shield. Being a Bengali by birth, my association with the saree goes back to my years of early childhood when I dressed in my mother’s saree and strutted around the house. I still remember how I and my cousins would wear yellow sarees on Saraswati Pujo and offer Anjali to God praying for good marks in exam. There was a strange innocence and purity in the faith of the young child who struggled to keep her stiffly starched new saree in place as she offered her prayers to God. With time the association between Saraswati Pujo and the saree assumed new dimensions as the little girl stepped out into the college and university.

 As a child I have memories of afternoons when I often used to wear a saree just to emulate my Ma and pretended to be like her. These are many reminiscences of my childhood where saree played an integral role. I dressed up in traditional sarees during family occasions and needless to say my aunts would say how I was growing to look like my Ma. Exploring my mom’s wardrobe was one of my favourite past times during holidays and summer breaks when I was confined indoors and had nothing to do or nowhere to go. I idolised my mom and knew I would definitely become like her one day. I used to smell her sarees and it still lingers somewhere deep inside me. My love for sarees kept growing with time. It gradually became my passion and obsession. There came a time in my life when I could safely say that I breathed sarees, I sang sarees, I slept sarees, I dreamt sarees… it was something that lifted me up when I felt low and down. It was a deep remembrance that I carried in me when I left my hometown for a new city and country thereafter.

If you ask me what kind of saree my favourite is, my answer would be anything that is handloom and handcrafted. I have collected and treasured some rare and precious sarees over time and countless memories are woven around them. Some of them remind me of long-lost faces, special relationships, some bear token of love, care and warmth and retain the fragrance of my loved ones which I still treasure deeply in my heart. With time I have seen how markets are flooded with refined and finely crafted power loom sarees which are irresistible and affordable but something about handloom weaves still fascinates the wearers like me. Not only because they are dermatologically safer but also because they are part of a long-standing glory which cannot be erased or replaced. Visiting Dakhinapan, Nalli’s and countless Gariahat stores of Kolkata looking for handloom sarees still constitute one of my deepest loves. When I used to stay in U.S., I missed my home, my mother and in the few sarees that I had brought as a part of my closet I would smell and feel my hometown, my familiar spaces of my childhood and adult years. During the celebrations in the foreign land, I used to wear sarees for they bespoke of the rich tradition of the country to which I belonged. There were many friends with whom I connected and there was a common bond that united us – the love for sarees.

I look at my wedding Benarasi in my wardrobe and it brings back so many priceless memories. I often keep wearing my mother’s sarees for it gives me a sense of power, sense of warmth and feel of comfort and feels as if my mother’s love is surrounding me. I know whatever changes may come in the world of fashion with time … handloom sarees shall never go out of trend.

India has a land of rich tradition of handloom sarees and many of them share poetic names too: Begumpuri, Dhaniakhali, Ikkat, Byomkai, Patola, Bichitrapuri, Pasapalli, Pochampally, Kanjivaram, Kotpad, Kantha, Gadwal, Tanchoi, Jamewar, Paithani, Valkalam, and Kaziranga silk, to name a few. I love variety in my sarees and over the years I have collected many of them and I spend hours gazing at them enjoying the skilled craftsmanship and art of excellence of the weaver. They bring back so many personal memories. I have preserved many sarees as sheer memoirs. The saree which my husband first gifted me, or my father bought me as I grew up still remains precious. I remember the saree I wore for my children’s first rice ceremony, and I could never part with them even when the sarees faded in the colour for they preserve a part of my life within their warp and the weft.

Draping sarees during Durgapuja is a must every year and no puja can be complete without them. I have also joined several saree groups in online platform wherein we have fostered several virtual relationships across the globe. This new euphoria has resulted in the awareness and revival of some rare weaves like Dongria, Kotpad, Moirang Phee, Bhujodi, etc. People are now becoming aware of the special weaves from North-Eastern regions of the country like Moirang Phee which were unknown earlier. Indian hand-weaves such as Patan Patola, Jamdani, Kanjeevaram, Uppada, Paithani, Baluchori, Chanderi, Maheshwari, Kota, Ikkat and Benarasi are being revived.

Sarees form a part of my deepest love. I am not sure if the next generation would be sharing similar sentiments for the six yards of glory, for many women these days are opting for western clothes which are easier to handle and travel. Nevertheless, in their sheer grace, glory, elegance and historical value, sarees continue to rule the red carpet of fashion world. My sarees bespeak of my personal journey, of the memories that I have collected over time as I have travelled across different cities, lived through different towns, homes and cultures. Even the simplest of phulia taant makes me happy. The white and red gorod has a pristine and irreplaceable glory. I have a special fascination for zero zari sarees; so I have procured a lot of Odisha weaves in my wardrobe like Dongria, Katki, Ikkat, Sambalpuri, Begumpuri, Kotpad, Patachitra, etc. Traditionally crafted Kantha stitched sarees hold a special place in my heart. It takes several days to make a Kantha stitch saree and Nakshi Kantha is famous in Bengal. These sarees bring back so many memories from childhood. It reminds me of the sultry summer afternoons in the village of my maternal grandparents where I can still visualize my grandma making kantha (cotton quilts made from old sarees and dhoties) in neat, even running stitches depicting the creativity of the immensely powerful homemakers. Yes, that is the origin of kantha stitch. A utilitarian craft by the women of rural Bengal, which was later transformed into an art form, katha stitch is still one of the oldest forms of upcycling in India. Bishnupur silks from Bengal are also widely popular as they are such comfortable fabric, making them ideal for any season. No matter where I travel, I always pack a saree or two. My kids find this obsession with sarees exasperating at times, especially when they are being roped in as photographers, but the saree lover in me never gets tired.

I always feel each saree carries a story of the weaver and as I drape it, at times I wonder what unknown stories might be hidden behind them. At times I become curious, and I wish I could hear the muffled stories of love, happiness, anger or tears hidden behind the threads of the weaves, but their silence strikes me and I realise some stories are never meant to be known.

Some personal memories:

Mother daughter duo dressed up in Dhakai Jamdani for a Pujo at my friend’s place

Pochampally from Odisha

A more than fifty-year-old Kanjivaram handed down by my mother

Zero zari kanjivaram which is an heirloom

South Cotton Chettinad saree worn in a Durgapujo during our stay in USA. Seen here with my other half who is actually photobombing here.

Bio:
Sharmistha Sarkar studied Business Management from the University of Calcutta. Currently she lives in Bangalore with her family and children. She has travelled across the globe and lived in many cities and explored diverse cultures. A saree enthusiast to the core, she loves to spend time with her family and friends.

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For more stories, read Café Dissensus Everyday, the blog of Café Dissensus Magazine.