My saree stories: Part 18 (Ode to the Laal Paar)
This edition of my saree stories is a Durga Puja special. It is an ode to the laal paar saree. Red bordered sarees or laal paar sarees embody the quintessential Bengali woman. Red symbolizes fertility, while white…
Rage and outrage
The hazy smoke and fragrance of the dhuni still lingered in the air. The rhythmic reverberations of the dhak could still be felt long after the drummers had stopped playing. The smell of the bhog wafted through,…
Angry birds
I am getting ready for work when a loud tok-toking outside the front door grabs my attention. The tok-tok sound is repetitive. And persistent. It makes me leave what I am doing and walk to check its…
Bajka or Tarua: Fritters from Bihar
One item which is a must in every thali at lunch when guests come visiting to a Bihari home are bajkas. These are fritters made out of assorted vegetables. These are quick to make and can be…
My saree stories: Part 17 (Odisha weaves)
Today’s blog post is the second edition of my collection of Odisha’s gorgeous weaves. I have previously written about the Odisha handlooms in Part 13. (click here to read). In the previous edition I had covered the…
Dhirde: A Maharashtrian crepe
It all started with my college batchmate and friend Pallavi Waikar asking me if I knew how to make dhirde (pronounced धिरडे). Now Pallavi is a Maharashtrian and is married to a Bihari. And we often exchange…
My saree stories: Part 16
This edition of my saree stories has hand woven sarees from Uttar Pradesh, Goa, Madhya Pradesh, Assam and Vidarbha. And a unique yarn. Have you heard of the phenkwa technique? Or futki yarn? Can you differentiate between…
SPB: Parva illa Sir, you will still be around
I grew up in Pondicherry. I distinctly remember one evening, when my English teacher, Mrs Hawkins, came up to my father and said that she had to take me to see Shankarabharanam. She really wanted me to…
Lost opportunities
“She told me that you had given her a hug that day.” I hear these words and my heart sinks. It is a feeling I find difficult to describe. Guilt. Regret. Shame. Did that mean so much…
The walk towards light
I might have easily ignored the Whatsapp forward which talked about India’s first visually impaired company secretary. But my eyes fell on the name. Turab Chimthanawala. Surely, it couldn’t be the little Turab I knew. It was…
