100sareepact 73 and 74. Saris rustle, bangles clink, jewellery jingles, strains of shehnai fill the air. Smiles, hugs, laughter, hugs after ages, hugs to last a lifetime. The conch shell blows, as if a siren, a siren that announces a flashback. Another wedding, another time. A month ago, a year ago, a decade ago. Memories…some shared aloud, inviting laughter and an exchange of smiles. Some quietly remembered and cherished in private with a quick smile that lights up the face.
Every wedding is a kaleidoscope of memories, a chiaroscuro of happy faces and welled-up eyes. Every wedding is a chance to meet, a chance to create memories.
And a wedding in the family is a chance to wear two saris in a day. In the morning, it was a peach Mangalgiri gifted by an aunt for my wedding. I call this my sunrise sari. I love the colour, it reminds me of sunrise, of hope, of love. I wore this the first time at a friend’s wedding a few months after my own. I remember I couldn’t miss work, so I only went in the morning.
The sari for the evening was a rich purple Dhakai Benarasi gifted by my Matu (Mashi). She had bought it from a sariwallah but instead of wearing it herself, she gifted it to me, complete with the fall stitched, net on pallu and tailored blouse. The resham work gives the sari an old-world regal look. The colour of kalo jaam/jamun, the sari reminds me of a fruit I don’t eat because it leaves my tongue blue and my palate dulled and a sari I wore once but which belongs to my Mami. A Baluchari.
Two saris, one occasion and many a person asking me about the pact. Thank you Anju and Ally for making each one of us a star.