A morning spent well, draped in my grandmother’s warmth as I wore a saree today that belonged to her, a smart beige silk with hand embroidered floral motifs in red and black. Looms back then were so special, crafting smooth, free flowing fabric, with lovely fluid textures. They really don’t make them like this anymore. This one is about 80 years old, and I have to thank my mother for preserving it so well, and more importantly, for parting with it the last time I was in India. I now own a precious, family heirloom ! 🙂

I teamed this one with a raw silk blouse and stepped out in jutis that I bought on my last trip to Amritsar to do something that has been on my cards for a while, visit the wholesale flower market in Seoul. And whilst I smiled at the amazing blooms that this market is famous for, I think the flowers smiled back at me, at my attire 🙂

My mother tells me I look like my Dadi when I wear a saree and this delights me like nothing else does ! Today I imagined how she must’ve looked in this one, how she would have draped it, effortlessly elegant, the pallu swung gracefully but firmly over her shoulder, comfortable to go around the household chores….I would give my right arm to carry myself with even half the poise, the confidence and the grace that she had.

Sharing a glimpse of it here, a saree which for me, is held together by much more than just those beautiful threads, a zillion emotions and sentiments run alongside them.