It's synonymous to the roots of a woman of substance whose power stands uncompromisable. The authority it gives is enough to bolster her through the roses and thorns. She engages with the storm within her like a gush of wave that swept her locks. She is the woman of power who has the strength of being her own wind beneath her wings. She wraps herself in the arms of purity and grace- Saree, call it the game of ace.
The attire that caters to the women across all the age groups and lives up to the promise of traditional yet contemporary weaves making it a heritage heirloom. Probably the only attire that pledges to restore the heritage craft.
The smell, the feel and the touch of this apparel isn’t replicable. Passed on from generation to generation and worn with one’s own style without keeping an iota of doubt about the emotion it would portray.
My grandmother threw her pallu with some money tied at its extreme end and keeping it so real like a breeze. Taken ahead by my mother who would tie it everyday in a jiffy to work with proper pleats of pallu resting on her shoulder, such kempted pleats that crossed when she walked like a boss. The big maroon bindi that depicted the essence of power and strength to complete her look. As a little girl with pigtails seeing her I would drape, I would pick her dupattas and start aping her. That’s the magic it emits. Today I am a young corporate woman who has her head on her shoulders. I wear my sarees my way, wrap the pallu around my neck and belt it at my waist. Makes me comfortable, brings me back to my roots and adds the little hint of contemporary fervour that sparks the look.
For centuries and beyond, Indian handloom remains unparalleled. In the world so judgemental, my saree remains unbiased and ever accepting. They are practically my yoga pants, I wouldn’t want to trade anything for.