Six yards of memories

My mother wore sarees for the most part. In the last couple of decades, the salwar kameez wriggled into her closet, becoming the preferred garb. In the last decade or so, she added trousers to her wardrobe and sarees became occasional wear. She finds them inconvenient now. The irony is she did a lot more … Continue reading Six yards of memories

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Stranded memories

My ancestors lived and died in Kerala, a state rich in natural beauty and steeped in tradition. My parents sought their fortunes outside the country. Their children lost a heritage. Sometimes the longing for ancestral history is an ache, sometimes a vacuum. The stories I remember are thin strands of memories like the kasavu on … Continue reading Stranded memories