Amma was classy; my love for sarees is entirely hereditary. Occasionally, my dad bought her sarees, but for the last many years, my sisters purchased them as she couldn't go shopping. Thus, technically, most were not of her choosing, but she always managed to make them look regal.
She consistently wore matching blouses and petticoats, never with a stitch out of place or a mismatched or broken button. She had great patience with needles, always mending our blouses and other items with love. This tradition dates back to our childhood, when all four of us were of similar sizes. To distinguish our clothes, she would embroider them with our initials. Our dress slips, in particular, featured floral patterns and our initials, and our small handkerchiefs had various designs.
Over the years, she received sarees from all corners of India as my sisters traveled for work. She sure did justice to all of them with her grace and class.
She adored floral sarees, and I would often tease her about being stuck in her youth. In reality, though, she wasn't stuck—she truly remained forever young and stylish.
No comments:
Post a Comment