Ammi's saris

This is from Subs...

I finally picked up the courage to clean out ammi's wardrobe.

It used to be an annual winter ritual -- my time with her, when she'd take out all her saris, old angarkhas, fragile chiffon and tissue dupattas and sun them.

Each one had a story woven in it.

The stunning orange and black tissue dupatta interspersed with silver threads and a silver brocade border, which was specially woven by the Banarsi neighbor at the behest of ammi's dada for her initiation into reading the Quran, when she just about turned 4.

Or the delicate gold sari which her nani left behind as inheritance. Her nani had nobody to support her financially, but the stroy goes that each night as she prayed the "tahajjud" namaz, she'd find 3-4 gold coins under the prayer mat.

The peach gharara with a velvet top and silver gota work on it still retains the nawabi look.

Each sari was hand-woven for ammi's trousseau, the silk is tattered now in some but as I held it against my cheek, I could still remember each story.

I hope this does not end with me.

Subs and I met while working for the girlie mag and have been gossiping ever since. I have only met her mum once, when I went over to Subs' and aunty fed me the best biryani ever. Aunty wouldn't recognize me if I were to visit now, in fact, there are days when she has difficulty recognizing her own daughter. I can't even imagine how difficult it is sometimes for Subs, who bravely battles it all and hasn't lost a bit of that infectious giggle of hers.