Day 38. It’s melting hot today, Calcutta summer at its sweatiest, sultriest worst. And it’s only the beginning. My father-in-law said back in his desh (not Purbo Bangla where he hails from but the Howrah village where he spent almost all his working life and made his own) such weather would be called “jamai paka gorom”. The term probably stems from the fact that summer is also time for the Bengali festival Jamai Sasthi when women with married daughters invite their sons-in-law (jamai) to a feast and pray for their wellbeing. Along with all the different delicacies that she cooks, fruits of the season are a must…mangoes, litchi and kathal or ripe jackfruit. The last is one of the few fruits I don’t eat. I can’t stand its smell and kathal is known for what people who love it would call its aroma, it can be smelt from a mile away. So, this is the time jackfruits ripen to their sweetest best, just in time to welcome the jamais. To come back to the weather, the hot and humid weather was enough for me to decide that today wouldn’t be a sari day, no way. I had even taken out a suitably fading, soft cotton salwar kameez to wear. Ice cream was all I could think off but I have been off ice creams for a while and am determined not to break my resolve. And then I had my eureka moment. So what if I couldn’t eat an ice cream, I could wear one. Well, almost. So out came what I call my ice cream sari because it’s such a cool green it reminds me of pista ice cream. The laundered and starched sari (it took much help from both Mas to get the pleats to a wearable state) did make me waver for a moment, but not longer.
This Tangail is from Bangladesh. It’s very special because it was gifted to me by my mother-in-law and father-in-law on the first Poila Baisakh after my wedding. I remember having my morning (afternoon to be truthful) tea a few days before Noboborsho when my mother-in-law showed me this sari and asked whether I liked it. I loved it. And she said it was for me. At that time, her sister (Chhotomashi Mira Nag) stayed in Dhaka half the year and would bring back Dhakais and Bangladeshi Taant saris. My mother-in-law had gone to her sister’s place the day before and got the sari for me.
There was hardly any time to buy a blouse piece and get it tailored. So one day, before office, I made a trip to Gariahat with my mother-in-law. In that heat and crowd we scoured shop after shop for a readymade blouse but couldn’t find a match. Just when I had given up hope, we tried the last shop of the day and found a match. What’s more, it was a good fit today. So I got to wear the sari that Poila Baisakh and later got a blouse made too.
The pale pink pearl strand and drops are from China, gifts from my BoroMamu (Ma’s elder brother) while he was posted there on work). He hadn’t been able to attend my wedding but thanks to the China posting made a trip to India soon after.