Another shade of blue

One of those days when a slice of memory from the past hits you hard. So hard that you realize it hits you the way it does coz you are so far away...



“Straight from Bengal. THESE madams are the original Bengal cotton sarees”, he beamed at us. Unmasked pride. “Unlike any others you get in South India. This is ORIGINAL”; drawling at original for emphasis.

Salesmen were common to our house. My favorites remained the bangle-man and the ladoo-man. Hushed squeals of delight when the wares would be opened to sparkling eyes. I would point excitedly at the colored glass bands and my mother would indulge in the whim. Red ones, blue ones, orange ones- every possible color of delight.

Silk saree vendors with yards of heavy cloth and arabesque patterns. Pearl vendors who would bring not only dull tiny objects that would roll in the hollow of your palm but also huge mirrors that lied, for they would make my fat and ugly aunt look almost beautiful. But only when you saw her in the mirror. The many pearls that often choked her neck did nothing to me except develop an allergy to chains. I never wear them.

“I don’t really like pearls”, my mother would politely demur. But she would say the right things when the rest of the people would buy terrible looking stuff which were colossal and ugly.

“I have too many silk sarees”, I would hear my mother murmur in dissent.

There never was a trace of regret. Quiet resolution. Strong. Unwavering. There never was a tinge of envy too. Her tone was and is something I have learned to imitate. To perfection.

But that day was different. I saw her fingers hover over a blue Bengal cotton saree. Hesitant fingers touching the material to find a defect that wasn’t there. To convince herself that it wasn’t as good as it looked like. Fingers that turned reluctant to stop touching it…

The saree wala with an instinct they all have when they know people are hooked, pounced on her. Classy. Would look bee-eau-tee-full on you. Elegant. Words rang. Amma seemed impervious to it all. It was a nice saree. I hoped Amma would buy it. I’d never seen her buy anything at all.

“How much”, she asked quietly. Her walls against temptation turned porous suddenly, I guess.

“350 rupees only madam”

Amma gasped. It was then that I realized that 350 rupees was huge an amount.

I guess even the saree wala knew it was huge an amount. He realized what I did not that day- it was too huge an amount for us. His interest wandered to my many aunts who were gleefully picking up magentas, oranges and purples. He even winced at one of my aunt’s selection and wowed it along with my mother- both of them sharing a conspiratorial smile. The prices went 300, 400, 600, 550… But 350 was huge an amount. Too huge. For us.

I saw my mother say the right things as always. Pretty of course. Oh, yes. Looks very nice and especially on you. Words she was adept at. But that day she was not at her best. Her attention wandered and constantly to the classy blue saree that no one wanted…

Many sarees were sold that day. Not the blue one. My mother must have been glad- I don’t know. I assume she was. She must’ve been…

The saree wala took a strange fancy to this quiet beautiful dark woman, for he said in a hushed tone against all the babble, “You can have it for 300”

My mother smiled a grateful smile, but shook her head in the negative.

“I have too many Bengal cotton sarees”

He smiled a knowing smile, taking in my mother’s old worn cotton saree, which stood in straight folds, starched with pride.

He wasn’t rich enough to lower the price any more and we were poor enough at 350 rupees being too expensive…

He bundled his wares after pocketing most of our family’s fortune, hoisted it up on his shoulders and walked away…

I ran after him. “When will you come again?”

He smiled. “Maybe when the young lady is old enough to wear sarees… and I sure hope you have as good a taste as your mother does”

I am old enough to wear sarees now.

He never came.

350 rupees is not expensive now. I buy my mother sarees regularly. But I’ve never found the shade of blue she wanted, the day 350 rupees was too huge a price to pay for a blue Bengal cotton saree.