Just a saree story

"Her hands have magic", said everyone who saw her wield a brush. She had learnt the art of Patachitra as a kid. It was now paying off as she managed to make some money from it to fund her higher education. Her dad had left for his heavenly abode when she was appearing for her boards. Her mom was able to make only enough money to be able to send her younger siblings, a boy and a girl to school. She started doing odd painting work locally to make money for her college fees. Soon, she managed to find a lady who gave her an order to paint on a sarees. That day she widened her horizon and started taking independent works. Then came that "online" order which broke her back. A lady gave an order to paint a pic of Srinath ji on a silk saree. "Please make my Srinathji blue instead of black." The picture shared was beautiful. And she was confident that she would be able to make it. Moreover, the amount she was offered was good so she accepted. She borrowed money

Chaudhary ji was a very well respected gentleman in this small village. He had huge lands and was reasonably well-off but he was a good man with a heart of gold who would genuinely help his fellow villagers whenever and howsoever he could. That's why they had chosen him as their sarpanch and they trusted his wisdom and relied on his decisions and vision for their village. Although having earned enough to be able to send the kids in his extended family to study at premier schools and colleges in the cities, he himself still worked at the grass root levels, highlighting problems with the authorities and taking initiatives for resolutions wherever he could. Chaudhary ji's only child, a daughter, had just landed in the village. It was an unusual sight as she alighted from the driver's seat of her car. All the men wearing white had lined up in front gate of the house as well as in the huge verandah of their house. The ladies were cramped at the back with their heads covered

Just on the brink of nineteen, it was her first time. It just had to be special. So she stood grumpy in front of her cupboard flipping random clothes on her bed. "That's a nice pile of kurtas there," said her mom as she entered the room. "They are all useless," she lamented. "What exactly are you looking for?" "Something nice... Something right for today... Something that connects me to my culture and country." "I see... C'mon then... " her mom said. Her mom opened up her own cupboard wide for her. It was full of sarees, colourful and well organised. She smiled and reached out for one in her favourite Indigo. "Aah," her mom said. "Perfect that you chose this." "Why?" "Because this is an Ajrakh print saree, hand printed on the soils of Kutch, soaked in the waters of the arid lands and covered in patterns with natural dyes. What else will connect you more to y

She had opened the trunk in the store room to take out some extra blankets for all the guests arriving that day. Just as she picked up the last one, she saw the small package. It was bound nicely in a plastic bag with a thin jute rope over it. She hesitated but then picked it up gently as if her touch would spoil it. Slowly, she took it in her arms and softly wiped the little dust that had gathered over it, as if cradling a baby. She was about to put it back but didn’t have the heart to do it. She took a deep breath and held it safely between her bosom and the pile of blankets in her arms as she carried them to her bedroom. Her 14 year old son came running to take the blankets from her. She smiled and told him that she’ll manage and instead he can just go put a lock to the trunk lid and lock the storeroom door. “Okay,” he said as he leapt on to the storeroom.  She went to her bedroom and carefully laid down the blankets on her bed. She gently picked up the package and quietly crep

She had imagined that she would be happy with this new job but somehow she wasn't. It was supposed to be this big leap for her as she had finally forayed into the Senior Management. The youngest member in the ExCo and the only female, she should have been proud of herself. But there was something that was bugging her, something which left a gnawing feeling everyday, especially after some or the other ExCo meeting. She had been introduced into a struggle most females in important positions are party to - the struggle of being ignored and snubbed by male colleagues. Add to it the fact, that she looked meek and childlike among the suited men with ties and spectacles. How could she ensure that people listen to her? She had to figure that out - and soon enough considering that she had the big presentation coming up on Investor Day. She had the presentation ready. She knew exactly what she had to say and she was confident that she would not fall short of words. It was just getting t