You read about my getting engaged and embracing colour, a week ago.
But my preference for black and white hasn’t dimmed, not even now.
A month before our wedding, Holi was around the corner. Remember those were the – in love must gift – times ( please, I’d like the gifting to return, Mr Kadam ) and Ketav loved presenting sarees. Most of my heirlooms have been gifted by him.
Anyway, so we went to Kala Niketan, in Juhu, Bombay. I didn’t like anything there and we turned to leave. Just to the side was a row of tiny shops and we went to have a look see. One of them turned out to be a Bengali saree, ten feet by ten feet, store. He showed me umpteen red border with every colour saree and I kept shaking my head in the negative, because I already had lots of reds from the wedding shopping.
Finally, he brought out the black and white. A thick Dhaka silk in ivory white with black woven design. I fell in love all over again.
The story of the saree weaved by a master craftsman,who took 30 days to weave it, only increased the romance of the saree.
There was one problem. It was partly black. And I had been instructed, strictly, by both moms, his and mine, to not buy black since it was nearing the wedding and I shouldn’t be wearing the colour. In the Hindu tradition, black isn’t considered to be auspicious. Think black magic and evil.
But how on earth could something so lovingly crafted be evil ?
Ketav and I silently paid for the saree, decided not to show it to the moms immediately, and returned home.
I got my first holi present from Ketav twenty years ago. This black and white beautiful saree.
And serendipity. Here I am walking with Ally, who is wearing a silk ivory and red.
Saree#13/100