The sari that launched a template

The sari that started it all

update: is it just me, or has everything on this page -- except this post -- gone italic? is it a firefox thing? gaaah!

back to our regular programming.

the inspiration for my spanking new template (care of the supertalented rina) came to me amidst a flurry of gorgeous silks and a hum of rapid bengali. that december afternoon, my indian relatives were taking me shopping for indian wedding garb, and my still-jetlagged head was a-spin traipsing about the crowded intersections and buzzing sidestreets of gariahat market.

there i was, sitting disoriented in a shop called “the silk house”, while aunts gabbered on about fabrics and colors (well that was my guess—it was all greek to me), the shopkeepers pulling out ream after ream of richly colored fabrics for my perusal.

then a flash of chameleon shimmer caught me. it makes me chuckle to remember muniya being taken by it too, and helping me protest against more silks being piled in front of me. “you like this one, right?” she asked me conspiratorially. after receiving a dazed nod from me, she erupted into a stream of tart bengali that ended in my lovely, pink-chameleon sari being rung up at the register and packed neatly into a long, flat box.

then we tumbled out into gariahat again, this time in search of sparkling goodies to drape my lobes, neck and wrists with – all matching, of course, the shining colored green-and-pink sari i held in my arms.

i’ve wanted to turn my blog green and pink since coming home from india with the sari tucked safely into my suitcase. it’s a reminder of the part of me i found there, among my family. i can still remember my grandmother saying, with unabashed pride and pleasure, “you look like a bengali girl”, the first time i modeled a sari for her.

it’s also a reminder of one of the most memorable times marlon and i have shared together. i will never forget the first christmas we spent on our own, or discovering my family with him by my side…
...or the panic that rose up in me as i realized, on the day of the wedding, that i had completely forgotten how to make the series of deft folds and tucks my aunt taught me. my mind was an utter blank, and i honestly thought i would not make it to the wedding. after over an hour of twirling futilely in yards of silk, i gave up. we called upon our resourceful muchachos to get a local girl from next door to do up my sari for me. marlon made sure to document the whole affair on video, should i be called upon to wear a sari again sometime in the future.

… or the first time i stepped out of the house swathed in all that silk. it was, to say the least, an interesting play of contrasts. the slightly unreal feeling of being utterly beautiful and regal was by the gripping paranoia that the sari would tumble around my ankles at any moment and leave me stark freaking naked. i glided down to the street only to tumble gracelessly into the four-wheel drive sent to pick us up.
so here it is, my newly sari-fied blog. eye candy (i hope) for you, and wonderful memories for me.