Embrace The Sari

Today, I had gone to a handloom expo held in my city where textile traders from all over the country came together to exhibit their work. When we were leaving, I saw a fully grown woman with her son and husband, waving her hands and stomping her feet in frustration. Listening closely, I realised she was throwing a tantrum saying, "That chanderi sari we saw back there... I want THAT one." :)

I was immensely entertained, but that's not the point. The only things I can think of that could induce so much passion in a woman's heart are shoes, bags, and saris. We LUST after them. There's just something about seeing yards of beautifully floaty brocaded cloth draped along the walls of a stall, the feel of smooth silk between your fingers, the intricacy of embroidery around the edges and the deep, bright colors. Just fingering the material makes you want to buy it and wrap it around yourself and never let it go.

I know this sounds almost creepily intense, but I have never gone to a sari shop without coming home half in tears because my mother wouldn't let me buy one. And she does have a point. I would never dream of wearing a sari to design class or to a movie with friends. What bothers me is, why is wearing a sari such a big deal? Teenagers in so many other countries embrace their national dress (no matter how odd it is), but here in India we have such an elegant and beautiful way to dress ourselves and we pick jeans and skirts instead.

My great-grandmother (Mother’s grandmother) is the only person I know who can wear a 9-yard sari by herself. I find that number horrifying. The nau-var (nine-yard) is a traditional Maharastrian technique of draping a sari that goes around your legs like a pair of pants. Tell me, could there be anything more convenient for the modern woman? Draping 9-yards is a dying art, and I hope that I’ll be able to learn it in my lifetime to pass on to my daughters and keep the tradition alive.

No matter what people think, draping a sari doesn't take more than five minutes with practise. It's elegant, chic, sexy, empowering... Everything a woman aspires to be. Saris look beautiful on full, curvy Indian figures (I actually think that skinny people look rather stick-like in saris) and can be dressed up or down just as easily as the little black dress. They're perfect.

I do know that most girls end up wearing saris at school farewells or for family functions, but why can’t that be extended to regular use as well? Our grandmothers do it, even our moms do it sometimes, so why can’t we? Decide a day with your friends when you’ll just randomly show up at class wearing saris. Try to drape a sari yourself, at least once. Experiment with 9-yard and 5-yard saris, go to the movie theatre wearing saris… start the movement. The main thing to realize is that wearing a sari isn’t something monumental or exceptional. Make it a part of your life. Rub the cloth on your cheek, obsess over the zari and gota work with your friends, revel in the lushness of the pallu and swish the pleats at the bottom. Buy special shoes to match your saris and see what a backpack looks like as an accessory. Hug saris. Sleep in them. Embrace the sari as a piece of clothing, not as a rare treasure, and use it that way. That’s the only way saris are going to survive their seemingly inevitable fate of storage in boxes and the smell of mothballs.