Happiness is wearing your mothers saree to a simple orthodox South Indian girl. Well what can I say I am the typical me. Well I just aced my introduction!!!
A couple of months back I wore my mother’s 15 year old saree but the main problem was I did not know how to wear it. I ended by skyping my mother half dressed . My mother laughed at my awesome confused state and patiently followed me through as I did as she said. I was actually taken aback on how complicated a simple wrap up was. I would be lying if I don’t admit I felt nothing less than a present.
I don’t know why I felt so genuinly happy. Maybe it was the fact that wearing my mothers clothes or maybe I felt closer to her in some way as her faint fragrance lingres onto the fabric which reminded me of the crazy kid I was, wrapping her long dupattas as a saree and wearing her heels and applying her red lipstick unevenly and playing all grown up and try scolding my Dad by imitating her till both of us would burst out into puddles of laughter.
I have always adored my mother’s pink silk saree. When ever she wore it I would always feel the material of the cloth with nothing much but my fingers as I would glide my finger as I watched the soft silk smile back at me. Being the modern dysfunctional family my dad used to work in a different part of India, back than as my mother single handedly looked after me and my baby sister and proed at her job too.
How she used to get up daily at 5.00 clock to prepare for her lectures ,to do all the cleaning and cooking and make sure that both me and my sister did home works and got our bags ready for school in time.Even after a tired day at college she would listen to my rants of my social cader and help me with my homework. My baby sister could not sleep a wink without my mother by her side and she could go into the living room and remove the books in my mothers lap and curl up like a ball and sleep on my mother’s lap. I don’t imagine how my mother manages to prepare for her lectures and look after us. She never depended on a single shoulder even at her worst she stood strong and independent and that has always mesmerised me at how hardcore my mum was. She is a cyclone lost in her own momentum of life’s harsh ways. Her amazing way of pulling off life with a wide smile on her face always .She is used to live life as if its easy even when it isn’t. This has always spellbounded me and yet I am still learning to nurture this trait from her.
I used to hug my mum tight on the scootie as she used to drive us to school. My mother will always be a roll model for me. Those days were precious and priceless. On the contrary I don’t want to grow up now. Back than I was in the safe net of being a innocent but now reality of grown up has caught up with me and forced me to leave that kid behind. Maybe it was the fact that I am wearing her saree reminded me of all this. The saree with time got old but the memories are still too young and vivid in my eyes.
That day I got many complements that I looked beautiful in a traditional saree with the simple golden border but the best complement came from my Dad. He said I remind him of my mother and that I came a long way from his tiny princess wrapped in dupattas to finally rocking the saree swag . That day I felt proud that I came from a strong women and to the strong women I shall be one day.
This was my one shining moment of this year. A rare memory which I would like to share with my future son or daughter and maybe they could continue this lineage of priceless moments.
To be continued hopefully in the process of next 15 years…. to priceless moments part 2 a over thinking mind awaits patiently for that day