I watched 100 Saree pacts talk on Ted talks India last week. It is interesting to see how creatively they came up to connect with each other. Numbers confirm again the importance of Storytelling. But these connections should sustain a bond of positivity.
In particular, communication needs this creativity mainly here because India is still largely an oral society. We connect with each other by stories in many forms. These kinds of interesting pacts help us reach minute corners of the country by sharing each other’s memories, views through stories.
Past may not be useful at present, not equally important but it’s the past that defines us. Sharing experiences give each other a chance of familiarity towards the experience before the experience itself. Many times the purity of one experience gives smiles to many.
I wear sarees rarely. For me, Saree means mom. I never saw her in any other attire till now. She has a collection of sarees stacked up on various occasions neatly in two wardrobes. The Saree I love admiring her in is a royal blue one. A silk Saree, Bengali silk, so referred as Rasgulla Saree in our family stories. I remember that clearly because it’s one of the early fancy sarees she had got amidst Kanchi pattus and various cotton sarees. Besides, the shine and shimmer were intact even after so many years.
It came into our lives during one Pongal as an annual gift from my grandmamma. I remember that in my childhood; the Saree was reserved for going-out occasions like groceries shopping, to the cinema theatre on Sunday evenings, to parent-teacher meetings, or anywhere casual.
It had white dots all over on blue background which I liked the most. I wanted her to wear on nights too. So that I could sense the surrounding softness while sleeping. I got hold of it for my school role play teacher competition once. Mom chose that for me because she thought the saree got youth looking fiber in it.
Usually, after one or two years, my mom takes out the aging sarees, which shows the signs of decaying into the normal routine wear. That blue with white polka dots saree was categorized into a pooja saree then.
Since then, for every festival, the image of my mom stayed same until the recent times. On every festive day morning, she woke me up in blue attire with yellow-clad feet (due to Haldi), tied up wet hair and pooja thali in hand. From her look, I used to realize it’s a festival day.
People usually don’t let go off memories of any special person so easily. I understand that’s why they associate memories of different places and objects to the experiences related to the person. Here, saree was that medium of an affectionate memory.
What happened to that saree now? It did not become useless even now. Ultimately, it turned into an experimental object for my sister’s one of the hobbies, designing. She took the saree to make an outfit for herself; we are waiting for the result yet!! 🙂
Published on 100sareepact.com – Here