My experiments with Sari
As an Indian-Bengali woman of short stature, my relationship with Sari has remained somewhat complicated.
I love the idea of wrapping myself in one-oh the soft, silken fabric that dances along my fingers, promising an ecstatic experience.
But the actual experience of draping it often makes me cry out in despair.
Until I got married, someone always helped me drape it. My wedding sari, a very heavy Benarasi special, required four people & a huffing-puffing me. The process always felt laborious, involving constant upkeep. You have to be vigilant, like ‘can’t let your hair down’ level vigilant. I constantly fear tripping over the pleats, and don’t even get me started on heels, which I loathe.
I always found the draping process laborious. It requires constant upkeep. You have to be vigilant. Can’t keep your hair down level vigilant. I always fear tripping on the pleats. Wearing heels is another thing I loathe.
So my admiration for it and my actual experience never quite intersect.
Every time I wear one, my senses go into overdrive. I don’t drink water much because I fear having to use a public washroom. I keep my head down because I fear tripping. I have never tripped on it ever, yet. If it’s not about tripping, then I worry about a potential wardrobe malfunction owing to a misbehaving safety pin.
Anything is possible when it’s sari day- think of it as the Indian adaptation of The Final Destination franchise.
Having said that, I also never feel more feminine than when I am wearing a sari. I also feel terribly guilty of amassing a huge almost untouched collection of handloom Saris, gifted to me by my loving family.
I tried to make amends by wearing them myself during the lockdown days, I would wear them to the virtual workplace while remaining comfortably cocooned at home.
Thanks to the evolving fashion landscape, sari has also evolved to be more trendy and inclusive. We have ready- to- wear brands and saris designed for the petite us. However, I am yet to explore them. My sari sampling experience has always been under the guidance of the elders in the family.
I have never got a sari for myself now that I reflect on it. Perhaps the sensory experience of buying a sari shall make me approach it with more patience?
After all, we tend to be kinder to our own decisions, don’t we?
Fingers in symphony 