16/100. I am old enough to have had a childhood with memories of grand-aunts going from wearing any colour under the sun to wearing whites, off whites or at the most, pale, pale beiges in the space of a day. The day they lost their husbands. I also remember that it was usually voluntary – inasmuch as anything shaped by convention can be – and that family members would try to coax them back to eating non-veg and on occasions, would gift them coloured sarees. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. I wonder what they felt – wearing the colour of their loss every single day for the rest of their lives…

Three years ago, there was a death in the family. And aunty started giving away all her colours. Three months later, on Poila Boishakh, I gifted her a pale blue saree. She asked me to exchange it or keep it for myself. Her instructions were clear – white or off white and with no hint of red/maroon/pink anywhere. No butis. So I went and bought her this saree. It was white. It had a grey border. And grey butis. But I bought it for the sparkle. The saree has silver khari work – block print with silver colour. When I gave it to her, I could see her fighting a battle in her mind. I am happy to say, the saree won and has been worn many times since. And this also marked the transition to wearing colours – albeit soft pastels – again for her.
She lent it me to wear when she heard of the pact. I wore this Bengal taant today with a blue-grey blouse with maroon prints, a favourite pair of silver and garnet earrings and maroon-red nails for all the women whose lives were leached of colour…