If Sarees Could Talk — Navaratri2023 — Day 3— Dhaka Jamdani and Tant Sarees

This is the story behind my day 3 of #navaratri, the red saree.

I know it’s long, It’s hard to tell these stories in few sentences. But if there is only one saree story of mine you read, it should be this one.

I cried a little when I received these sarees. My mother and I caught our breath for a mili-second in remembrance when I showed it to her. And then as I told the story to my aunt earlier today, I saw her eyes and caught the choke in my throat. I fully expect you will need a box of Kleenex too. But they are happy tears, shed in remembrance.

Sometime between Sept of 1984 and July of 1986, Appa took charge of East Asian Liner Shipping. The post that promised him the title of MD. During this time he made one visit to Dacca in Bangladesh. He by then had grown quite weary of his excessive travelling, and had also suffered one heart attack, so he didn’t seem as excited to go to a new place as he could have been But he came back more talkative and garrulous than I had ever seen him.

He was by nature a stern man. Not given to frivolous talk or friendly banter, particularly with his kids. He was social enough but could never be accused of being the heart and soul of a party. As most daughters would attest, and it was certainly true for me, he was most at easy and lightest version of himself with me. I was probably the only human to receive open displays of affection from him. To me, he was my giant, my hero, in…