#sareespeak

#womenofsareespeak

#silk

#pattu

#SS/23/100/2020.

Completion of week 3, completing week 4 soon. Sounds like a pregnancy trimester update, doesn’t it?
Let me tell you what transpired. Please, don’t roll your eyes and look away, and mouth ‘There she goes again’.
New Year happened. Juggled, not very well, I must add, a little cooking, work, music, prayers. But a day of love and hope, nevertheless.
Then my lovely niece turned 18 in Perth. One of the most memorable birthdays ever. We celebrated over Zoom. Her family in Perth, family in Malaysia, us in NZ, more friends in Perth. We sang, cheered as she cut her cake, we watched specially created videos on her, bloopers, laughed, cried. A beautiful emotional experience.
And I celebrated, at home, my 6 years in the organization I work for. My colleagues emailed me cake photos, and I spammed their inboxes with decadent chocolate ganache and rainbow cakes. Reminisced, reflected on the people I work with, support, empower, motivate and attempt to make feel better and more confident about themselves.
Cooking up chaos in the kitchen, alone, with daughter, with hubby.
Old favourites, new dishes, dishes from childhood. Amidst quarrelling, laughing, getting our much needed food therapy.
Just made rolls with him. I cut up the potatoes into tiny squares, trying to emulate my Malaysian Chinese neighbour Molly, who made these curry puffs to die for. Her pastry was buttery, the filling had these delicious potato cubes, perfectly cut,and am certain would have got the quality assurance tick of all having the exact same dimensions.
Fried red onions, minced garlic, potatoes, curry powder. Hubby made these delish rolls, coated in breadcrumbs, fried. Polished with chilli sauce.
And we watched the final episode of Best Home Cook. Yes, lockdown has turned us into these couch potatoes at night, watching cooking shows and Marvel superheroes – we watched Dr Strange yesterday, by the way.
We also have Mice.
When everyone goes to bed at night, they come out.
We discover what they’ve done, the next day.
Hazelnut and Turkish Delight chocolates missing from the chocolate box.
Unwrapping the chocolate in the fridge only to find empty gold wrapping and preserved chocolate label.
Bowls in the sink with Maggie Mee or Mac and Cheese remains. Microwave Popcorn packets in the bin.
Then, these nocturnal creatures, get into the bedroom beside ours, create a ruckus playing games, watching movies, with other such beings from other parts of the world.
After some threats, which these 2 legged variety of Pests ignore, they move to other parts of the house.
They morph into whales during the day, beached ones, mostly.
They will sound like whales too, with certain grunts and trumpets to be deciphered as ‘May I please have a coffee, Amma’ or ‘What’s for lunch’. Once they have transformed sufficiently into some semblance of my daughters, they will lure me into their crazy videos, pat my bottom as they pass me by to hibernate in their rooms, or occasionally crush me with a hug.
All said and done, Life can be quite entertaining with this dysfunctional family of mine.
I am in a simple silk beige bodied saree with peach and gold borders and pallu. Just to celebrate my work anniversary.
Wore this only for the second time now as I’d burnt the pallu a little during a Vijayadasmi morning puja 5 plus years ago, while lighting some lamps. Never got it darned. It is now lying folded beside me on the couch, expecting some TLC, which I hope to provide during this lockdown.
Blessings all, stay safe in your bubble.

#sareespeak

#womenofsareespeak

#cotton

#SS/22/100/2020

New Year. New beginnings.

Hope. Let’s Hope. Let’s Dream.

Tough as it may be to look beyond the murky realms of our

New Normal.

Clap yourself on the back. Clap for the frontliners. Clap for those who stay at home.

Blast some music and dance.

We have managed,  adjusted, adapted,  accommodated to

A lot Less,

no eating out,

no takeways

No Shopping,

No physical Socialising,

No Hugging.

But I am grateful.

And I’m going to list the reasons in no particular order.

Why?

Because I can’t quantify or sort my gratitude.

This grateful feeling is nice and warm, and

I am grateful,

For

Today.

Tamizh, Sinhala New Years, Vishu, Vaisakhi, Poila Boisakh.

For My blessings, too many to ennumerate.

For Saree Speak. Formed 4 years ago. Popped up on my notifications. Invited myself in, got accepted.

And I Love it.

The sarees, the sakhis, the posts.

Thank you is the very least I can say

for allowing me to pour random musings, jumbled thoughts.

No one judges. They laugh, comment, send little hearts and thumbs up.

My virtual friends.

I DO know you.

I know what you feel,

what you write,

what you do with your day,

how your beautiful minds work,

why you choose to wear that saree.

I see your soul through your writing and photos.

And it never ceases to amaze me about how wonderful each and everyone of you are,

Working your way through the challenges and blessings of each day, in your inimitable ways,

How you are able to, with a single like, absolutely just make my day.

How we can each encourage and cheer each other on,

And how You have got to know Me.

All because of a Single Woman’s Vision

To give the Saree its Due,

To lift us Ladies

To make us feel even better about ourselves.

I have draped this handloom cotton, purchased on a music pilgrimage to India, a mustardy greenish yellow olive toned saree. With bright orange and gold borders and pallu. Borders and pallu have temple korvais with my beloved Annapakshis/Swans. Am at last wearing the matching blouse.

After a home puja. My smile says it all.

Stay safe, blessed, much love to all of you.

#sareespeak

#womenofsareespeak

#cotton

#SS/21/100/2020.

And so it goes on.
Life is generally a challenge, more so during lockdown?
With these lockdown challenges :
Food challenge, share a recipe challenge – now even on email, saree challenge, movie challenge, chores challenge. You name it, there’s a challenge for it.
Don’t get me wrong, I love them.
But am not sure if my family has caught on.
My food challenges have cluttered up friends’ posts on social media. I have apologised profusely and have told them to ‘unfollow’ me. Instead, they have set dates for coming over once the lockdown is lifted. Not sure whether to insert a happy or crying smiley emoticon here so shall do both. 😂😭
Anxiety is setting in as my husband seems to admire his growing beard – no shave challenge.
I like the white hair contrast against my bright red lipstick – no dye challenge.
Girls challenged us to watch the Marvel series and Harry Potter.
It took hubby and I, half the evening to decide what to start with, our marriage is built on healthy disagreement, it tends to be upsetting when we find we agree on something.
I wanted Thor, who wouldn’t want Thor, or Captain America, he wanted Harry Potter.
We agreed to disagree and watched Petta. Note, neither conceded defeat.
Petta was watched with the girls, in the midst of food prep, another challenge, Nachos, daughter 2’s grilled parsley, mozzarella, garlic, chilli toast.
Daughter 2 left halfway to hibernate in her yellow room. Daughter 1 left three quarters of being into the movie, to look at the spoilers on Wikipedia.
My already fried brain was on overdrive, there were so many plot twists, I went to bed, quite confused.
At least, we had a topic of conversation the next morning.

Yesterday we watched Spiderman : Homecoming while slurping our instant noodles, another food challenge?
Oh yes, music, dance, art challenges?
Take an iPhone ring tone tune, embellish it.
Create some fusion music.
Enthusiastic me challenged the girls. I’d hoped they’d come up with an intricate music video but no,
They sent me videos of them doing voiceovers to tik tok videos. Funny but sigh..
I shouldn’t have challenged them, I now feature in their videos which only they and their friends seem to understand and find the embedded humour.

Challenge yourself dear Sakhis,
Make a dish, recycle fridge leftovers, my dishes are aptly named ‘Parabhrahman’ – nameless, formless, after cycles of recycling.
When you shop, add some chocolates to the list and gift them to the ladies at the cashier counter.
Call a friend, an elderly person, a lonely person, a not lonely person, have that long chat about nothing in particular or that deep and meaningful conversation.
Order some groceries online and get it delivered to someone you know would welcome that extra support.
Send some crazy whatsapp videos and memes, however irritating you or they think it may be.
Or look inwards, meditate, read, reflect, whatever floats your boat.
Pay it forward.
Just remember, anything positive you do, will help, even if it helps only you.
Laugher is infectious,
Goodness is way more contagious than the virus making its rounds.

To add to the growing list of challenges, I draped a saree to symbolise the Ayiram (1000 in Tamizh) challenges we can set ourselves to keep going during this lockdown, to maintain the sanity and well being of us and those whose lives we touch.
Am in an Ayiram butta saree – A saree that has buttas within each of the squares, amounting to approximately 1000 in the entire saree. My saree features my favourite woven Annapakshis/Swans and Rudraksham/circular pattern. A Chettinad pure handloom cotton. Purchased on a trip to India some years ago for intensive music lessons with my Guru for a few months stay. Handcrafted, handwoven saree from weavers of Karaikudi. Perfect for the Chennai summer heat as the drape of the saree is so comfortable and lightweight that I would wear it without any discomfort the whole day. Incredibly easy to maintain by hand or home machine washing.
A favourite khaki body and borders, buttas in gold and orange, with stripes of Annapakshis and Rudrakshams in gold and orange running through the gorgeous olive green pallu.
And finally..
with its Matching green blouse with black and gold borders.
Stay safe, blessed, be kind, be happy. Lots of love.

Here’s a link to a lockdown challenge in NZ.

http://www.indiannewslink.co.nz/lockdown-releases-homegrown-talent-among-siblings/

#sareespeak

#womenofsareespeak

#cotton

#SS/20/100/2020

Still in lockdown.
Lots of decisions. Running out of milk. Do we get milk when we go for a walk? Shall we shop together as there is a fairly long grocery list? Do we go to A as it’s smaller, easier to shop at or do we go to B as there are gales, cold blasts, probably rain expected and there is underground parking?
First world problems. Set that aside and move onto

Easter. A Four day break.
Great to reach out and send a text or make a call to anyone and everyone just to say Blessed Easter.
Eve of Good Friday, prepped lunch then the half went for a walk with me, his better half. (It feels so good to word it this way, small thrills as a result of a stay-at-home-overfried brain). The autumn landscape a stark contrast against cloudless blue skies and green grass. Lots of stepping aside, keeping our distance when seeing other fellow strollers or cyclists. Quick waves, hellos.
We have decided on some lockdown challenges, the two of us, a sprightly middle aged couple.
His challenge, well, I challenged him – to not shave until end of lockdown,
And mine, I challenged me – to not dye my hair until end of lockdown.
(I did say sometime way before lockdown, that I wanted to try the graying look, the only response I got from him was that he’d have to stop dying his hair too. It was probably a sweet gesture on his part, but more likely stemming from vanity).

Had a class on the evening of Good Friday.
I looked for a white saree in line with this month’s theme, pulled out a gorgeous creamy white, heavy, Benarasi silk with rust borders and pallu. Gifted by mum 20+ years ago. Pulled out the blouse, succedeed in getting it through the arms, but it wouldn’t button up past the fourth hook. Pulled it off. Looked through blouse basket for a matching blouse. Got a simple khadi cotton grey and cream striped blouse. In a crumpled mess. Ironed it, put it on, only to find, it was the most mismatched mismatch of all mismatches, against the Creamy silk saree.
So I dug out this starchy brown cotton. Draped it hurriedly as my class was on in 10 minutes. At that point, mismatches didn’t bother me.

Class over, calm, collected me asked a daughter to take a shot.
Daughter 1 didn’t want to leave her yellow room and took some horrible shots against her open cupboard and stuffed toys on the floor.
Daughter 2 took a quick shot against some further mismatched cushions in my family room, all the while chiding me for
a. Not dying my hair
b. Wearing a mismatched blouse
c. For not pleating lower pleats neatly.
Told her off, and decided to rant about defiance in this post.
But left it too long, so defiance has worn off.

Or maybe not really.
If I want to drape a saree, wear a blouse, be reasonably well presented, get a picture clicked and post this with my thoughts on Saree Speak, I shall.
If I choose to not colour my hair, so be it.
If I decide to wear a grey and cream with a brown and brick red rust orange or what-not, I shall.
If I don’t accessorise or wear make up,that’s fine too.
Why?
Because I am comfortable in my own skin,
I kind of like who I am,
and if I like me,
It would make me a better person, I think,
And you would probably like me too.
So that’s my defiant rant of the day.

And this is the photo from the shoot that caused the rant. Featured saree was gifted by a dear friend, decades ago. The top is khaki brown and it runs into an orangey rust bottom, with zigzag and korvai borders, and to ease the khakhi merging into the rust, there is a korvai bordered separation of orange, maroon,olive green, brick red stripes.
Appropriately Mismatched with the following
a. Cream and grey cotton blouse
b. Not-sure-if-I-have-on lipstick
c. In-its-natural-state hair.
Stay blessed and safe, be kind, have a beautiful Easter of loving and giving.

Oh yes, and I’ve added a Black and White shot too just to get in on the theme.

#sareespeak

#womenofsareespeak

#artsilk

#SS/19/100/2020

Week 1.
Lockdown.
Forgive the rambling, please. This lockdown has just about done my head in.

A week of working from home, Zoom, calls, remote support, cooking, planning meals, chatting with family, friends, social media bombardment, binge watching Serials (what’s new). Rising early, trying not to think too much, going with the flow. I think that’s the trick, don’t think, don’t rationalise, just do.
I’ve always believed in Jonathan Livingston Seagull’s ‘Let Go and Let God’, to the point where my girls and students end my sentence with a chuckle before exams, performances.

Working from home is actually a little tough compared to Working from Not at home. We have been deemed an essential service, which is an honour, but tough honour, so days are spent on calls, providing tech support and just lending a ear. Hearing distressing stories, pointing towards the right direction, the correct channels, handling remote tech support challenges, but taking it one client, one task at a time. Almost serving up fried brains for lunch. Stopped rushing. Breathing, thinking, prepping documentation to instruct on line. In a sense, prepping for the future, if this is to be the new normal.
I seem to be constantly Zooming too. Work. Music. Haven’t zoomed for friends, family as yet. No, that’s on my Whatsapp chat feed. I read, place the phone down, pick it up and there’s sixty plus messages.

Then there is the general kindness, goodness of people. Tomatoes in Indian grocery shops, are cheap! So are avocados. Goodness of human nature or supply demand theories? In Sri Lanka, Colonies place their jackfruit, mango harvests, in a common place, for the inhabitants to share.

Went shopping. Apart from the isolated case of a lady asking me to move my trolley as she thought we weren’t maintaining the 2m distance, and her poor husband apologising for her stressed-out behaviour, it was an overall hassle free experience. The cashiers were wonderful, smiling, attempting to make small talk, doing their little bit to ensure that we are not made to feel like pariahs.

Murphy’s Law wreaked its mindless havoc on the day of the impending midnight lockdown.
My daughter had transferred data from her laptop onto an external drive, only to find that the drive had crashed later .
Mayhem, Major Meltdown.
We went from tech store, to hard disk recovery online support, to hardware store to some form of resignation.
I was simultaneously trying to sort out a client’s tech issue – she was in danger of not being with a working computer during the lockdown and needed to help her son with schoolwork.
I think what we come away with here, is that,
We have a choice,
We can embrace the situation, try to be as positive as we can, yet allow ourselves to cry out loud or in the shower.
My coping mechanism is to smother my family with recycled or otherwise food, hence the crazy food posts, and write, meditate with my instrument.
In these trying testing times, it is as if we are in a war zone, owning invisible ration cards, queues snaking out of supermarkets up to carparks, no one smiling or making eye contact, shelves empty or stacked with one or two items, shopkeepers shaking their heads when asked if an item is in stock.
This is exactly when we,
As a family,
A street,
A community,
A nation,
Must rally aorund and support each other the best way we can.
Be Kind.
No tearing down of people’s posts,
No rants when someone decides to post a delicious, artistic meal,
Instead, we must remember
To Each His Own.
We all have individual coping mechanisms.
We cook, post, laugh, write, dance, sing happy, sad songs, let it be.
And while we find ways to cope, we heal, nature heals, we hear and see fauna and flora thriving. A friend mentioned being awakened at 3.30am by a rooster, he’d never heard this earlier, another friend was having a cup of tea on her deck, observing a Kereru bird amongst the palms.

In the words of The Beatles, Let it Be.
“And when the broken hearted people
Living in the world agree,
There will be an answer, let it be.
For though they may be parted there is
Still a chance that they will see
There will be an answer, let it be
Let it be, let it be. Yeah
There will be an answer, let it be”.
Let it be, let’s be positive and move on, things will get better.

Sorry, this is a long post. Let me end on this bright note. The girls released a music video at the end of week one of lockdown. Recorded in two different homes, exhausting, syncing tracks, takes, retakes. With a single mic, a laptop and non commercial software. In two locations, a virtual concert during lockdown. Amidst the music making, Meltdowns, tears, cheers, featured aplenty.
On the bright side however, they were occupied totally.
A meditation, living in the moment, unknowingly practising Mindfulness.

Am in an oft recycled saree, light silk, green border, multicoloured flowered body and pallu, with a totally mismatched brown checked, orange bordered blouse, against my daughter’s happy wall, hoping maybe that some of that yellow sunshine will rub off onto me.

Have a listen to the girls’ music video too, to add a little more sunshine into your day. Stay safe and blessed dear ladies.

#wewillsurvive

#sisters

My sisters are the threads that define me.
Like the saree, they are the wefts and warps that together make me whole.
We lost our father young. I was 15, Thaya 12, Shuba 6.
He had cancer, we were 14, 11, 5 respectively when we found out.
Towards the end, when he was hospitalised for a not brief stint, poor mum used to complete chores, cook and leave early for the hospital, returning only in the late evenings, sometimes going back to be with him.
It’s weird how we tend to feel sorry for ourselves years later, but never at that time.
Probably because of our wonderful support mechanism of childhood friends and siblings. And uncles, aunts, neighbours.
My Thaya was my bestie then and always will be, My Shuba my baby, yet the one I’m in awe of, and love to bits.
Thaya and I used to sort our snacks, help Shuba with homework, and basically mother each other.
Thaya and I studied overseas together, completing the same degrees, my best friend became her husband, my husband was a good friend of hers (and mine), we got married on the same day on the same dais.
Losing dad only made the bond grow stronger, mum included.
Of course, then we never realised what it would have meant for 35 year old mum to lose dad at 40. Now, married with families of our own, struggling and overcoming individual trials and tribulations, we marvel at those days, we weep feeling sorry for ourselves, we pat ourselves on our backs, for what we had gone through.
That sealant causes us to continually spew one liners, jokes, advice, welcome or unwelcome, in WhatsApp groups, one aptly named Sisters;
We call, forgetting time differences across continents, to seek approval after chiding our children, advice on decisions, to laugh, weep, gossip.
And when we’re done calling, we linger over Social Media posts, revelling in the beauty and grace of a niece’s dance, or the excitement of a nephew’s futsal match, we tap the Love button and post a comment, the next best thing to being there, and smothering each other with hugs and kisses.
We know each other so well, that whatsapp messages sing with joy or cry with despair, a monosyllable signals an unhappy or preoccupied sister, a paragraph indicates a gossip or advice session is due.
We know exactly what to say to make things better, and in that same vein, how to be scathingly mean, we know each other’s vulnerabilities.
So, in the words of Toni Morrison, I believe she’s an American novelist and I haven’t read her books,
“A sister can be seen as someone who is both ourselves and very much not ourselves—a special kind of double.”

#sareespeak

#womenofsareespeak

#aucklandnzss

#saree/17/100/2020

#artsilk

sunday

My norm on a Sunday is veena classes from 9 to 2.
I start with a Skype lesson with a lovely Vainika in the UK. I get to see her gorgeous family and beautiful Labrador.
Then comes the Little Ones, with their eagerness to show off, giggles and off topic conversations.
The Seniors, a long session, followed by the Ladies.
Now, needing to err on the side of caution, all classes have been cancelled.
Except for my Skype class which we both thoroughly enjoyed.
Working out logistics of holding online classes for students sitting for practical and theory exams.
So here I am, in a red, black and cream soft art silk Saree, ironically gifted by one of my Sunday budding Vainikas. Paired with a cream cotton blouse with gold embroidered flowers.
On my veena as I’d normally be on a Sunday.
Attempting to practise not only music, but
WHO’s recommended guidelines of
Not socially distancing
But instead
Physically distancing
And
Socially connecting.
Reaching out to friends, neighbours, with food, lending a ear, a hand..
(To clearly showcase the saree, the third photo was taken at the end of a long day, a couple of nights ago. Matched with a black cotton lace blouse. I let my hair down – literally).
(Cooked too, but that’s on Foodspeak).

#SS/16/100/2020

#sareespeak

#womenofsareespeak

#cotton

#aucklandnzss

In this era of viruses, what does one do, what can one do?
My whatsapp and social media feeds are inundated with status reports from all over the world, from family in 3 different continents, from places they don’t live in, conspiracy theories, remedies, homeopathic, ayurvedic, allopathic.

Email updates from my organization daily too, keep us on edge.
No rest home visits, one on one interactions, social distancing, triage client – ask the necessary questions –
Travelled, anyone visiting who’s travelled, how many people at home, anyone with cold or flu symptoms.
In the end, not many clients can be seen as they too are in a vulnerable, high risk group.
Listened to talkback radio as I always do on way home from work. Was quite put off by the attitude of a man who pooh poohed the whole thing. Said he’d had a long lunch with lots of wine, given the waitress a firm handshake, not practised the 2m social distancing and said ‘hey if you’re going to get it, you’re going to get it’.
I thought that was absolutely irresponsible behavior.
Measures are in place to prevent spreading, to keep our elderly, sick and vulnerable safe. It’s not just about us, the hale and hearty, but the wider community, the high risk categories who may not survive if they contract it.
I’ve cancelled my music classes.
At work client face to face interaction has slowed.
And I’m doing what I haven’t been doing in a very long time.
What saints and philosophers have been stressing since time immemorial.
Living in the moment.
Meditating.
Aren’t we all attempting to be aware,
conscious of
Not touching our faces at all!
Having to wash our hands constantly.
Not hugging, handshaking.
Keeping 6 feet, 2 metres apart?
Doesn’t this boil down to being mindful?

Anyway, with more time on my hands, I now
Keep calm and cook.
Keep calm and chat on the phone.
Keep calm and practise veena.
Keep calm and read.
Keep calm and switch TV Channels, then become less calm.
Keep calm and switch between Netflix and Lightbox, and again become less calm.
Keep calm and plan some family activities – games, movies, music, discussions, then become agitated during Monopoly when one daughter refuses to play because she hasn’t got Mayfair, Parklane, the other collects rent everytime I breathe, husband builds hotels by the minute,
Keep calm and look out for how we could volunteer in our local community.
Oh and keep calm and write a classic like ‘Love in the Time of Cholera’.

And generally,
Focus on the Us and not the I.
Lose the self centredness.
Take just that one hand sanitiser, Dettol wipe, Vitamin C. Leave the rest on the shelves for the Us.
Check with friends who have returned from trips abroad, now in self isolation, if they need home cooked meals, shopping, errands to be run.

And of course, when you have time on your hands,
Drape a comfy, feel good, soft bright cotton.
The brightest purple, with checks,
with gold annapakshis/swans and mangoes on borders and pallu, then
Match it with a loud red, white, purple checked blouse.
Complete it with a crazy-and-straight-from-the-heart Saree Speak post.
Saree stolen from mum, as daughters tend to do, around 35 years ago.
(Truth be told, I draped this for a music programme over the weekend, before the health crisis here escalated). Some photos and clips of performances in comments.

#sareespeak

#SS/15/2020

#womenofsareespeak

#kanjivaram

#kanjivaramsilk

#silk

#aucklandnzss

Attended wedding of a friend’s daughter. Let me rephrase that. I know both sides. So friend’s daughter and friends’s son.

Got saree and blouse ready the night before as it’s quite a ritual. I have to move the orange mat, drag the camphor chest forward so that the lid, when open, does not hit the ledge of the mirror on which sit some cacti – not real live ones but plastic ones, (will replace with real ones as no self respecting person is able to kill a cactus).

Coming back to the chest, once dragged sufficiently forward, I must remove glass top and gingerly rest it atop bed cushions.

Then, open chest, stare at sarees on top for a minute or so, all the while trying to remember chest contents without having to rummage around chest.

I dig deep into chest, spy the bottle green and pull it out. Press all sarees down, close chest, place glass lid on top, push it back to its pride of place under mirror ledge, drag mat to lie in the centre between chest and bed.

My oh my, what a ritual to select a saree. But worth every minute.

Another gem from my wedding trousseau. Bottle green, almost black, with deep maroon borders and pallu. With pure gold zari Annapakshis, mangoes, the works. A kanjivaram to die, not literally I hope, for.

I believe sarees age like fine wine, and women. The saree seems to look better with age, 30 years old.

Matched with a cotton khadi blouse, the reason for me not wearing the original blouse has been disclosed in a previous post.

Had a lovely time with Gayathri, and her girls. (My trio was out of town at a rehearsal).

Weddings are also a time to sit quietly and reminisce about treasured moments aeons ago. The anticipation, excitement, trepidation, ecstasy, was it possible to have felt those cascading sensations all at once?

Then, the honeymoon, getting to know each other..better, settling down, feeling loved and wanting to love, unsure why the other is quiet, feeling all at once a surge of love and irritation..

The girls arrive, and it’s all about them, convos on kindys, schools, camps, music lessons, dance classes, report cards;

we lapse into apathy and complacency, occasionally coming up for gulps of fresh air,

Now, walks, talks, chats, movies, trips, family dinners or dinner for two, eventually back to pre girls’ days, almost empty nesters, yet fully invested in the girls’ lives, and knowing that, not too far away, the next generation will arrive for the cycle to continue..

The Cycle of Life in Lion King,

The Maori Koru in New Zealand,

The Fibonacci Sequence in Life..

Pulled back to present day reality by the haunting strains of the Nadhaswaram.

Can’t help but muse on the words of Dave Meurer,

“A great marriage is not when the ‘perfect couple’ comes together. It is when an imperfect couple learns to enjoy their differences.”

My green kanjivaram,

my go-to, feel-good saree, comforting, thick, rich, resplendent, heavy with the weight of stories, experiences, from the housewarming of my first home, my daughter’s aayush homam, countless pujas and weddings,

has got me reminiscing about marriage and relationships.

Rich, intricate, delicate, fragile, and hard work, but worth every minute moment of sweat, toil, tears, joy and bliss.

I’d like to take back what I wrote..

Just had a mini disagreement, (in my mind, I’ve played out a fist fight),

About how toilet paper must be fitted.

Learn a new thing a day.

Well, actually, ongoing learning for the past 30 years.

I place it such that the part to tear is against the wall to minimise waste. He claims that it should be front facing, against the metal cover so that the metal cover can be used to tear off the paper.

Nothing much has changed, nothing much is going to change, here’s to a lifetime of toilet paper altercations.

Added photos to capture the rich dark green of this kanjivaram. The last 2 are from an older post.

#sareespeak

#womenofsareespeak

#disneyprincesses

#silk

#internationalwomensday

Disclaimer – a collage of old sarees, please allow this for Women’s Day.

This picture kept popping up on my newsfeeds, whatsapp and the various social media I subscribe to.
On a whim, I asked my little one to find me some photos of myself to match the ladies’ costumes.
Unsure if I was thrown any weird ‘omg amma’ looks, but when you’ve been a mum to two camera savvy young ladies, you tend to selectively decide what you need to bother about.
An hour later, something beeped. Was going to ignore it.
Just to fill you in on my need to ignore my notifications if i haven’t muted them. Hubby and I are part of myriad whatsapp groups – his side, my side, my sisters, his sisters, his cousins, my cousins, my various veena groups, my All veena group, my weight watching friends, my daughters only group, the four of us group, Need I go on? That’s not the end of it though, everyone hails from different time zones, so when We do decide to look at our devices, we have an avalanche of 83 messages from his side, another 70+ from mine, and that too from a group that may have celebrated an office reunion.
Strayed too much, coming back to
The Beep.
Saw this photo collage. Thrilled at first, then the vain streak that runs on my side of the family took over. Texted her – she’s in the next room, mind you, as to why she had chosen those particular photos. A text zoomed in instantaneously, if texts could talk, this would weep in frustration. The text insisted that those were the most relevant photos with the most apt colours.
So here I am draped in a green checked jute silk, a yellow tussar silk, a teal, light blue linen, a red cotton silk and a deep blue cotton silk. To emulate the feisty Disney Princesses.
To celebrate Women, Us, in our many Roles, Avatars.
Not just the career women, the policy makers, the professionals, the academics, the CEOs,
But
The makers and growers of these women,
The Grandma who regaled me with stories of her many childbirths. I know, not really a bedtime story you’d tell a granddaughter, but my family does have a twisted sense of child rearing as you may have gleaned from my previous posts. About how she’d wake up grandad only after she’d got the clean towels ready, water boiled, and he’d grumble, then ride off to get the midwife.
The Mum who told me how her father had torn up her teacher’s training college acceptance letter as ‘girls needn’t be so highly educated’. The same mum who lost her husband to cancer at 35, and raised three strong successful young women.
The Aunt who recounted the tale of her getting on board a plane to the UK, the first in her family to do so, to complete her nursing degree in the late 60s.
The Sister who is a consultant, pathologist, academic professor, who still comes home to take her children for classes, cleans the bathrooms, folds and irons clothes, takes care of her mother and mother in law. (By the way, this sister has a part time maid and prefers to clean the bathrooms before the maid does them, I have no clue why?!)
The Teacher who tirelessly explained the intricacies of integration by trigonometric substitution.
The Music Guru who patiently changed all the strings on the veena two nights before a performance.
The Dance Guru who sewed costume hems, ironed dance saree pleats and force fed bhadam kheer.
This institution of Wonder Women should be saluted,
The ones who emanated strength with their words, actions, as they oiled and braided plaits, woke their daughters at 4am to study, with hot cups of milo, cooked wholesome healthy meals and stayed awake as their daughters burnt the midnight oil during exams,
This day is
For Them,
For Us too and
For the Daughters of our future.
We cannot exist without each other, we are too invested in each other and inextricably entwined, intertwined.

Happy International Women’s day to
Each and Everyone of you,
And the Women in your lives who have touched you in any minute way.

If interested to read more,
Here’s a link to a speech my feisty Disney Princess wrote sometime ago on the New Age Disney Princesses.

Disney Princesses – A Daughter’s Perspective