Sari stories (back blip)

"In this old cupboard there is a bundle of clothes lying at the bottom 
Some old textiles, kunchi-topri (child caps), shela and shawls.....
Amongst these there is a Paithani sari kept with utmost care

This beautiful green Paithani has a pallu with narali and brocaded checkered design

My grandmother wore this Paithani on her wedding day Holding its palav (the decorative end of saree) she took the blessings of all ....

There are moments when I hold the Paithani close to my heart as close can be 
Its soft, silken caress brings my grandmother back to me

The intervening years vanish 
Time's broken thread runs whole again
 O golden squares of my grandmother's saree
 Tell her of my wellbeing then."

English translation of a Marathi poem by Sharanta Shelke




I found this poem in the museum, alongside the sari which it obviously does NOT describe, in the textile section. The gallery was very dimly lit, to  prevent the colours from fading. I found the social history of textiles fascinating. Loved the museum and it's grounds, even though I was sleep-deprived. 

We'd started out after breakfast, which is delivered to our rooms from a South Indian veg cafe (you just phone reception with an order, and it comes as a takeaway thirty minutes later). I had idli, which is pillow-discs of white rice with accompanying sambal and pickles. We took Ubers to the city centre, and then walked round a crescent that could have come from Bath or Edinburgh. Parts of it were pristine, others dilapidated. It's called the Horniman circle, I think. 
Then on to the Anglican cathedral, St Thomas's which is very simple inside and has many plaques, not just to fusiliers and great fighting men, but some to women, too. From there we had a pitstop for coffee, then some people needed the loo and we were directed to the fanciest Starbucks I've ever seen in my life. It was a Starbucks Reserve, which means something, and was in the fancypants banking area. Camilla then took us through the back streets to the museum. We pased 'Fox & Hedgehog LLP: solicitors" and printers offering Indoor and Outdoor Printing. Power cables drooped overhead, strung loosely between buildings. 

On arrival at the museum we dispersed, meeting up later to swap our tales of discovery and wonder. A particular cafe was mounted, but when we got to the Fab India department store, the cafe had closed. "Jamie Oliver cafe coming soon" announced a sign on the door. Hmm...Failed in London, try Mumbai! 

Somehow we got to the very fancy railway station, that looks a bit like St Pancras, that has now been renamed with a more Indian name. Inside it's a modern station, with an exquisitely decorated booking hall. We bought tickets for the Harbour Line train, (10 rupees/10 pence each ) and water (15 rupees a litre) and boarded the train. We women went into the women's carriage. Many vendors tried to sell us plastic scrubbing brushes, shoe laces and other humdrum items from a giant transparent container that they hung from a central hook so that it swayed between the bench seats like a punch bag. There were blind beggars too, and various other vendors. The train became so packed as we headed south that we had to fight our way off at Chembur, as if exiting the London tube at rush hour. 

We all grabbed a bite at the South Indian cafe, then had time for a quick shower at the hotel before heading to a concert. We took auto-rickshaws, known in some countries as Tuk-Tuks. My, how they drive! Weaving in and out of the traffic and around the bikes, constantly changing lanes, using the language of beeping: it's terrifying and wonderful! A wonderful skill and precision is at work there. 

The concert was South Indian karnatic music. The singer's grandmother was very well known. She is not. There were two drummers and a violin player, who played in the South Indisn style, which involvesa different scale and playing position to the western style we are more used to. The Violin follows the emotion of the songs. There is a lot of interaction, response and improvisation between the musicians. The 'drum-off' was terrific between the l'ong drummer' and the 'clay pot drummer. We had a job afterwards to get an auto that would take us back to Chembur, but the one that agreed in the end got us right to the hotel door, and it cost us all of 50 rupees! 

I was very tired, went straight to bed, and woke up again at stupid o'clock!  Some day I'll crack the habit of sleeping.