Sari Soiree

MOH and I believe in division of labor. He has his chores, I have mine, and never the twain shall meet. In our house, picking up the mail is exclusively a male domain. The only time this rule is reversed is when I go on an online sari shopping spree. This happens…ummm….maybe once in two or three months. Here is how the whole thing works.

I come back from work and feed the hungry brat some leftovers from the previous night’s dinner [picking her up from school is an exclusively female domain]. Then, while she is busy catching up on Maya and Miguel’s latest antics on TV, I hook up my laptop and settle down to some “quiet time.” Usually, this means logging in to YM and chatting with my buddies Lucy and Avi. On rare occasions, when both Luce and Avi are busy or unavailable, I go on a virtual safari – a sari safari. Yes, that’s the name of my favorite sari shop here in the US.

I stumbled upon this website quite by accident while doing on internet search on Kantha saris. Embroidery and quilting is something I do when I need to keep my hands [and my mind] busy. I have been trying to experiment with the running stitch style embroidery from Bengal, known as kantha. I was on the lookout for traditional kantha patterns one day, and I did a google search using “kantha saris” as the keywords. Sarisafari was one of the links that came up. I was intrigued by the very different name, and I immediately clicked on the link. What an adventure the safari turned out to be!

Melinda, the owner of the sari shop, has stocked up the website with more than 600 specimens of traditional hand loomed saris. Each one is unique and hand-picked with care. I simply adore traditional Indian cotton fabric, and these saris were like a dream come true. I ordered three saris that day.

After that first visit, I was hooked. I went back again and again. Melinda’s attention to detail and the prompt turnaround [delivery] time are a welcome contrast from the other disinterested unreliable sariwallis [or sariwallas] trying to peddle their wares online.

Every time I make a purchase, Melinda, my very own sariwalli [as she likes to be called] emails me an invoice. Then I begin “lurking” at her site to see when she takes the pictures of my choices down. Once the pictures are down, I know the saris are in the mail. That’s the easy part. Waiting for the package to make its appearance in my mail box is the hard part. I have to be very careful to get to my bounty before MOH can get to it. So, I wait in front of the mail box and accost the mail lady while she’s in the act of actually placing people’s mail into their respective mail slots. When I see her place the envelope with Melinda’s neat handwriting into my slot, I let out a silent cheer, “YES!”

I wait for the lady to lock up the mail box with her master key. Then I open it again with my key and get my saris out. I run home and rip open the packet like an excited kid opening presents on Xmas morning. Next, I stand in front of the mirror, try on my saris and preen till MOH gets home.

I did this whole stunt today also when I became the proud owner of two new Narayanpet saris. I was so stunned by my own beauty [after I had donned one of the saris] that I didn’t quite hear the garage door go up when MOH drove in. So, I couldn’t get out of my sari in time before he walked into the bedroom. “What? Another sari? How many do you need? I’ve personally counted 80 saris in the closet,” exclaimed my indignant hubby. Ok, ok. I admit I do have a sari fetish, but 80? I don’t think so. But even if I did, what’s the big deal? Every girl has the right to “collect” something…Imelda Marcos had her shoes, I have my saris. No, I haven't actually counted how many I have. I don't believe in counting my blessings, lest I jinx my good luck :)

Notes*

Sariwalli = Hindi for seller of saris [female]

Sariwalla = Hindi for seller of saris [male]