Most my saris don’t have stories because I really like saries and buy them because I want to. But more importantly, when I was working full time, I used to wear them regularly. But this gorgeous ilkal sari has a tale. Shopping for my trousseau, I saw this gorgeous purple sari at an exhibition and fell in love. In the minute I reached out for it, another woman who was shopping laid her hands on it and I politely let her have a look. The next thing I know she’s telling the guy she’ll take it. I could hear my heart cracking just a bit. I decided to look at it anyway and asked her if I could while she looked at other saris. I pestered the guy for another piece and he didn’t have it. The woman in question wandered off looking for more stuff and I must have looked all forlorn because the guy, after watching me standing around moping, said: “madam, yeh aap le leejiye. mein woh madam ko kuchh aur dikha doonga.” (Please take this. I’ll show the other woman something else.) I shamelessly grabbed it and ran to pay and get out of there. Before that I asked him how he get out of it. “Mein unko boloonga ka is piece kuchh problem hai.” (I’ll tell her this is a defective piece.) I could have kissed the guy.<\/p>\n
And now it has another memory of a splendid evening spent with two stunning, loved and funny women who need to be cloned.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Most my saris don’t have stories because I really like saries and buy them because I want to. But more importantly, when I was working full time, I used to wear them regularly. But this gorgeous ilkal sari has a tale. Shopping for my trousseau, I saw this gorgeous purple sari at an exhibition and…<\/p>\n