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| note: this post was originally a caption for this picture on fotolog. it outgrew that 5000-character space so i transplanted it here, for the benefit of the lovely people who avidly adore le flog. oh, and you. if you like. :)
putting on bangles, before going out.
:+:
so i'm a little late with this "final" picture in the "awesomest sari i’ve ever worn" series. :)
this picture was taken on christmas eve, before a dinner with about twenty people (mostly aunties and uncles).
the restaurant choice was regrettable, the company of those who populated the "younger" span of the continuum was less than coruscating and the menu was not designed for herbivores, but the night shimmers forever in my memory...
because of those six yards of silk. the most unforgettable, inimitable, matchless silk i have ever worn.
i didn't know it existed, but somehow, i don't think the converse is true. i think it was waiting for someone, and though hardly worthy, i was lucky enough to be her.
:+:
"beta, why don't you stay tonight as well? don't go back so late..."
"uncle, i wish i had planned for this and packed more clothes! i'd love to go to the dinner, but i came last night expecting to leave this morning...in my pajamas!"
"you didn't bring anything else?"
"all i have is the red sari from last night...which i'm sure will be fresh in everyone's memory...and this suit i'm wearing now..."
uncle frowned. "yes. everyone who was here last night will be at this dinner...that won't do. the sari won't work."
"it's okay, uncle...another time. honestly, this is unbelievable. i always over-pack for EVERYTHING. the ONE TIME i try and be efficient...look what happens!"
though i was laughing, i was inwardly surprised that the oxblood salwar kameez i had on wasn't "good enough". it had a delicate, filigreed sort of embroidery near my neck and a smattering of flashing beads across the front. it was simple, but pretty enough for a mere dinner. what kind of event was i planning to miss?
uncle read my mind. "you can't wear that suit, either."
i could feel my sparse brows ready to collide like two metro trains on the red line...i am always over-dressed, for every event. that's just me. given the choice, i'd obviously prefer to wear something prettier than some salwar, but the vast majority of women i knew would happily adorn themselves in the finery i was now scrutinizing, for church, parties, dinners...whatever. besides, for the umpteenth time, i hadn't brought anything else! this was maddening.
in the critical second before my forehead embraced new wrinkles, uncle's eyes widened. "i've got it," he muttered. up the stairs he went, moving swiftly for a man who was as old as my father would be, were he alive today.
i followed him, but stopped shyly when he reached his bedroom door. it felt like an invisible wall stood before me. you just don't *go there*.
normally, i think my very proper, refined uncle would agree. this was the exception to confirm that rule, however.
"come, beta. look."
i hesitated for a few moments, then padded over to the largest master bedroom closet i've ever seen. uncle was to my left, moving a large box...i felt like i was in a movie. everything slowed down. i heard wind chimes in my mind, and immediately decided to fire my mental sound effects guy. how hokey.
i grew up without the benefit of grandparents; i grew up without an attic full of old clothes, i grew up with a mother who didn’t believe in saving “useless things”, things which i’d consider relics. the memory of being six-years old, at my best friend francesca’s house came roaring back…she was playing dress-up, and i was watching, too shy and unsure to join her. “what’s wrong with you,” she demanded impatiently. “i’ve never done that…” was my reply. when i went home afterwards, i shyly approached my mother in the kitchen. she was stirring a curry while looking at a different pot full of rice. my sister toddled about her legs. “mummy, can i play dress-up? do you have old clothes, too?”
“go find something that isn’t worthless to do,” she snapped in malayalam, before i turned away in tears.
:+:
uncle had carefully discarded the box which was probably too heavy for him. before i could berate myself for letting him lift so much, he was yanking a non-descript piece of fabric off of something, with a flourish. it reminded me of a magician, unveiling the denouement of his act...
"booty," i murmured, feeling delighted and apprehensive all at once.
"what?"
i shook my head. "nothing, uncle...sorry." it looked like a pirate's treasure chest, and my inability to suppress my lunatic inner monologue had manifested, yet again.
latches were unsnapped, and a creak that was worthy of a horror film snaked through my ears.
"these belonged to auntie," he quietly said.
i was almost shocked mute. "have...you..."
"have i opened it since? no, beta..."
twenty years? TWENTY YEARS had passed since the legendary silks and chiffons within had been touched? my mind reeled, and as uncle methodically flipped through each folded square, wrinkles unmolded from two decades of waiting, faint strains of rare perfume escaped, and an anxious slideshow of every picture i've ever seen of auntie commenced in my head (uncle was and is quite the photographer, you see...look at the picture above, look at the camera that was used).
"i gave away hundreds," he informed me, his voice low. "who would wear them again?" uncle had no daughters. he now had one daughter-in-law, but she detested saris, barely wore indian clothes. "when raj married _____, i thought, maybe...but she does not wear these things."
i thought i was going to faint. auntie was a creature of myth, rarer than unicorns as far as i was concerned. during the go-go 80s, she went to fashion week. she was halston's "hag". HALSTON. when every other auntie bought a handbag at kmart, auntie swept into gucci for accessories. her love of fashion evolved until she owned her own boutique, for fun, and at this improbable business, her designs were addictive to the moneyed MILFs who were crazy for her wit, her opinion, her talent.
do you have any idea what kind of clothes this woman had?
a good fifteen minutes had passed, and uncle was still cataloguing fabric. the immaculate new closet floor looked as if a bombay sari palace had ulti'd all over it. "there's this...and this...oh, and this." each square fell with an aristocratic thud to the ground, as uncle narrated its history: where it came from, who bought it, what event auntie had made others jealous with it at...
uncle selected a classic red benares silk. "it's christmas! perhaps you could wear this?"
i had my heart set on something else, an aquamarine dream of filmy perfection that reminded me of a dress valentino had once designed for the red carpet.
uncle smiled at me pleasantly. "no, beta. wear the red."
too meek to voice my considerable longing (and still battered by the shock of it all) i nodded.
a few moments later, i had an epiphany that threatened to derail my cinderella story. "uncle...ah...i would love to wear ANY of these, they're magnificent..."
"but?"
"but...where are the...blouses..."
uncle dropped a seventh shahtoosh shawl on the pile of fabric riches. "oh! i have not seen any, beta!"
i nodded glumly and helped him sift through the remainder of the trunk. nothing.
"maybe you could wear the blouse you wore yesterday? it was red, na?"
i knew it wasn't the same red, but i dutifully went to my guest room, carefully picked up the glorious new blouse my aunt had sent me from india, and returned to the closet-treasure chest with it. i laid it solemntly on top of the sari.
"that goes...doesn't it?" i didn't reply. uncle kept looking, then he cocked his head to the right. after squinting for a second, he sighed. "it does not go."
like a wistful teenager, i picked up the aquamarine dream. unbelievably, improbably, the jewels that glittered from it were the same colour as my singular blouse.
"no, beta." he pronounced reluctantly.
"if it were summer...", i started.
"exactly."
we both sat amid the silk, feeling forlorn. just when i was about to excuse myself from the event, uncle moved his hand through the pile to his left. he slowly removed a special bundle. "there's this..." his voice trailed off.
cliched as it might seem, i gasped. no bleeding way. no WAY.
"you'd have to be very careful..."
"of COURSE, uncle!"
i was terrified. part of me didn't want the responsibility of wearing something so treasured, so irreplacable. i think he sensed this, and that's why he looked me in the eye and said, "who else can wear it, but you? it sat here and did no one any good. tonight, it means you can stay. i can't let you leave for lack of an outfit when such things lie unused..."
"thing" was an injustice as far as this sari was concerned. legacy. asset. heirloom.
perfection.
"seventy-five years ago, my mother made that border by hand. it took her months to embroider and bead it. when i married your auntie, she teased her and said, 'you are marrying my youngest-- that means he's not bringing any inheritance with him. all you are getting is this.'...auntie laughed and accepted it happily, saying it was more than she needed. this was forty years ago. your auntie searched for the perfect fabric and made this. she didn't trust anyone with this border, so she stitched it herself...look."
he flipped over the area he had been cradling, and i saw tiny, careful, perfectly even islands of thread rising from the silk. eighteen feet of them. she had painstakingly attached it herself. i passed the border through my hands until i reached the pallu. i wasn't surprised to see a flawless job.
"uncle...i can't believe you're letting me wear this. i don't think i should. it's too important-"
"just be careful, beta. she'd want you to wear it. she'd want it to be seen again."
:+: | | |
| princess in love :)
and if that isn't disgusting enough for you, go here.
oh my...i think that's the first time that content showed up HERE that WASN'T pasted from H~E~R~S~T~O~R~Y...life really *is* all topsy-turvy, innit? ;) | | |
| not quite 100 things...
100. i have no desire to try hot and sour soup; that is what RASAM is for...
99. if i were trapped on a deserted island, and i was only allowed one book, i think i'd take wikram seth's "a suitable boy"
--- are bells going off in some of your heads right about now? "oh, so THAT'S why she-" yeah. exactly. ---
b/c it's such a long book and i've never read the legislative parts (have mercy!) in their entirety. i'm always reading it. i first read it when it came out, years ago, and then i closed it, sighed, started to feel bereft that it was over...and so i opened it again minutes later. it stayed on my nightstand for several years, and i'd read it every night before going to bed. i've been through it four times. suddenly i wonder if my insomnia in CA is related to the fact that my "suitable" book is in nyc...w/the rest of my
belongings/life....
98. the only sport i've ever played was indoor futbol.
97. the trouble with kittens is that they end up as cats. blech.
96. i'm an amazing catholic even though i'm not. and despite the fact that my father's fam is RABIDLY anti-catholic.
90. i prefer haagen-dazs pista kulfi to jen and berry's
89. my father chose all of my library books when i was four or five and he chose damn fucking well:
- the nightingale
- babar
- madeline
- whatever else he picked.
88. my soccer sandals are the original blue and white adidas...and they've been mine since '93
87. i'm allergic to small furry worthless housepe(s)ts: cats, hamsters, rodents, chinchillas, gerbils, ferrets, rabbits...etc etc.
86. i keep kosher, for the most part. i was better at it back east.
80. i prefer decaf and so do you (for me). trust me.
79. when i was a small girl and my parents wanted to really fuck my shit up, they'd ground me by taking away my library card. since i read (on average) about three dozen books a week, i'd weep and beg for a beating instead. every parent should aspire to THAT level of absolute nerdiness in their offspring; "no, daddy, PLEASE...ANYTHING but my books...please don't take my books..."
78. i hope and PRAY i marry an ex-footballer...have mercy them boys is foyne.
77. my puppy rani, had a slightly older brother named raja...they were littermates. he died in '02.
76. i don't get these huge arena churches or churches that use rock and roll in their ministry. and i will NEVER wear a pair of pants to sunday services. ugh. fucking barbarians. i like formal.
70. i don't drink coffee or tea w/o CREAM. fuck that herbal shit.
69. when i worked at barnes and noble in college, i spent almost exactly as much as i made.
68. if i can't have a soccer player, then someone who was on the swim team will do.
67. my first puppy was a german shepherd/wolf hybrid and he was flawless, gorgeous, brilliant and pure sweetness. his paws were as big as your face.
66. my family is vegetarian for religious reasons, so don't try and fuck with that. (i.e. comment derisively, try to convince me it's wrong etc).
60. i've been vegetarian since conception-- mom's pregnancy was fueled by green grapes and strawberry ice cream and our household was viciously veggie.
59. when i ask someone what the last book they've read is, and they ask "do magazines count, b/c all i read is Maxim. Cosmo. Pneumatic Retards Monthly."... i feel like throttling them and saying "NO YOU SAD MOTHERFUCKER, MAGAZINES MOST CERTAINLY DO *NOT* COUNT!!!! WHAT ARE YOU, A BLOW-ADDICTED FERRET WITH ADD???"
58. my dad used to get my doctor to write me a note excusing me from PE a year at a time...he was terrified i'd get hurt.
57. my wolf puppy used to jump up to kiss my uncle on the nose, resting his paws on my uncles shoulders...my uncle is 6'1.
56. the zen class i took last year changed my life. mindfulness. that's the answer to EVERYTHING.
50. i don't drink soda unless it's vintage, glass bottled-coke and it's going in my WHISKEY.
49. once, when on a date with an adorable indian boy who had eyes you could melt in...i asked "what is your favourite book?" he said. "oh. i don't read. books suck." i smiled sweetly, excused myself, and LEFT.
48. thanks to my congenitally fucked up knees, i can't run for shit. that's why i interval train.
47. my wolf puppy died in '96. :( RIP... R.M. Singh.
40. yes, i CAN taste the difference between evian and other waters. fuck you if that bothers you.
39. when i read a book, you can't tell that i have; i don't bend pages, scratch the cover or otherwise leave it molested. when someone borrows one of my books and they return it looking shitty, i'm livid. words are sacred, you philistines.
38. i don't know how to swim. i'm serious. i'm not pressed though...that shit fucks with your hair.
37. my dogs have always been outside doggies. moms and veena are deathly allergic.
36. there's never been a moment of my life when i DIDN'T believe in G-d.
30. black and coke is good. gold and coke is better than french kissing.
29. i went through a phase where i read nothing but stephen king. what's amusing about this is how i was so terrified; every night, before i went to bed i'd rush outside my room, drop the book WAY out in the hallway, and then run hastily back to my bedroom as if cujo himself was nipping at my cowardly heels. i refused to sleep in the same room with his books. :( haven't read him in well over a decade. i'm a fraidy cat and PROUD of it. :)
28. baseball is the sport i like the least. p.s. bowling and golf are not sports as far as i'm concerned. go fuck yourself if you disagree. i don't think F-1 is really a sport either, as much as a pastime of the Gods.
27. if i don't have dogs, i have fish. that's it for pets for Anna. i LOVE fishies though. :)
26. when i was little, i wanted to be a nun.
20. i go through these bizarre appetite-free periods in life where i am sustained solely on liquids; when i was two, it was similac. when i was 20 it was whole milk. ever since 27, it's been chocolate BOOST.
19. anastasia krupnik. beezus and ramona. deenie.
18. my daddy loved playing footie. i wish he had taught me when i was little. he sent me to tennis lessons, which ended prematurely, instead.
17. i kinda want an itty bitty doggie. like a yorkie. or a pug.
16. for the first two decades of my life, i NEVER missed church.
10. there are at least half a dozen types of cheese in my fridge at all times.
9. if i wrote a well-loved children's book, i'd consider it my greatest accomplishment EVER.
8. despite living a life that was free of athleticism, i want my kids to play assloads of sports.
7. i don't like pitts. or rotts. i obviously don't have issues with big dogs, my dogs all weigh(ed) around 100 lbs. originally, i was supposed to get a Mastiff.
6. i think G-d lives at St. Patrick's cathedral. to me, it's the holiest place on earth.
1. i love okra as much as i hate cooked onions; my favourite fruits are mango, raspberries, strawberries, blackberries, tangerines, cherries, pineapple and kiwis, almost in that order. my favourite fruit masquerading as a wegetable is the tomato. i fucking love those things.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
i know, this isn't complete. i've been working on it...more soon. | | |
| farewell, sex and *my* city.
and....it's over.
the show that once convinced me to pay extra for HBO in order to see (well, that and the sopranos)...the show that taught all of you exactly what to call the heels i live in...the show that vindicated my unappreciated, misunderstood fashion experiments...is gone. i haven't watched it in almost two years. SATC kept me afloat when i was turning allergic to d.c. i feened for it back then...once i got to live in new york...correction, once i got to live my charmed life in new york city, i no longer needed to dream vicariously through SATC. suddenly i had my own adventures and punny conversations. :)
anyway, you should stop reading this post NOW if you've tivo'd SATC and you don't know how it all ends. i'm about to discuss. this is what's known as...a spoiler. so hie thee to another blog/post/distraction if you are the only eskimo on the planet who doesn't know whom carrie picked, honeychile.
are you gone yet? fucking scram already.
all right, good. let's get on with it...
i could've told you that she would've picked big. i'm half-carrie (though i'm not buying one of those lame tank tops to declare it) and that's what *i* would've done. when she cheated on aidan with big...that's when i truly understood the depth of her love for "john". i'm not a cheater, in fact i condemn them vituperatively...but i didn't hate her for doing it. life isn't a simple as it was when i was younger, and i had black and white rules that governed my own personal morality. i'm not endorsing infidelity-- that thought alone makes me laugh...i'm the girl so loyal that i won't dance with other boys when i'm someone's girlfriend-- i'm just stating that i understand why she did it...and if you do choose to do something like that then recognise it for what it is; a sign that cannot be misinterpreted. if you're going to hurt someone good and sweet (like aidann) for someone else, than your heart knows the truth. "someone else" is the one you need.
i'm meandering all over the place with this.
it's just that i nodded when i saw the one minute synopsis of the SATC finale. i "got" it. after all, sometimes i think that i have a "big" in my life, too. maybe we all do. i'm a sucker for a brutal, edge-of-your-seat love story. and i'm glad that my 50% alter-ego got hers. may i get mine, one day. ;)
oh, who's my other half?
:)
charlotte. the sorority girl. ( i was almost a Kappa! ) the girly girl. the conservative. the sweet one. EVERYONE always gets me wrong...the real idiots think i'm "samantha", and that's just an apposite comment on how lame brown people can be..."oooh, anna says 'fuck' a lot...she's feisty...intimidating...she must be a whore!" ha. far from it. i bristle at that mischaracterization. anyway, no one ever confuses me for miranda, even though my entire world thought that i'd end up a lawyer. most people say "carrie", b/c of the shoe fetish, the writing and the center of attention thing. anyway.
i'm wasting your time and mine with desultory stream of half conscious.
this isn't what i was going to write...
you see, i have this very personal, important post i've been working on for a week now. it was 95% done and then my laptop died and i lost half of it. and it feels like torture when i think of having to retype it all...i can still see most of the words, where they were placed in that document (i have a near photographic memory for some things-- don't get excited, nothing useful)...how they flowed...maybe it's more than feeling like it's tedious...maybe i don't want to introspect that much again. writing that post was extremely difficult for me. can you blame me for not wanting to go there? it ouched.
sigh. don't worry. i'll go there. i have no choice. (all things shall become clear in due time, children.)
while i procrastinate poorly (i do have a bit of an excuse-- spending the last five days all vomity is NOT conducive to writing ANYTHING), feel free to leave me a comment telling me which SATCer you are. do not feel free to leave a comment telling me that you're getting one of those sad tank tops. i'll just "carry" you. publicly. for your consummate lameness. :) | | |
| THIS IS THE FIRST POST FROM MY *real* BLOG.
(it was once the "about me" section of my friendster profile.)
hot. sicker than your average. a beatnuts-level muchacha mala. a pain in your ass that you can't get enough of. vegetarian. works out four days a week. drives at triple-digit speeds for no good reason. two pet peeves: stupidity and hypocrisy. delta gamma at UCDavis, bartender at GW.
more about me? hmmm.
Now Reading: the economist and the bible
Now Listening to: george michael and dilated
Now Drinking: decaf earl grey with whole milk/chai spices
Now Eating: chor. mor. kadukamanga. ;)
still want to know more about me? you are mad. i love you. okay.
things that i LOVE:
my little sister Veena, new york, true friends, cashmere, naps, terms of endearment, st. patrick's cathedral, back-cracking hugs, writing, kisses on the forehead, the interweb, someone else playing with my hair, sanrio, unconditional acceptance, all 600 of my CDs, diesel jeans, extra whip cream, the times and post, vinyl, playing indoor futbol, 120 minutes, glazed donuts, the law, filthy goose martinis, lip gloss, flirting, wine flights, JD/MBAs, the view from the weehawken ferry, anna-proof rio mp3 with extra memory, san francisco extra sourdough bread, DJs, my shu uemura eyelash curler, cappuccinos with extra foam, minolta dimage x, "gym foods" (boost chocolate high protein shake, apricot clif bars, s'mores luna bars, toffee chocolate chip power bars), the smell of clean, dimples, ray's cheese by the slice at 4 am, glittery gel pens, fountain pens, soccer players, white roses/tulips/lilies, doing abs every other day, my vaio, affection, rockefeller plaza, my car, cadbury's fruit and nut FROM ENGLAND, text messages, FAT babies, parmalat milk in boxes, dogs, blogs and flogs, standing on the drawbridge in mystic CT, my shoe collection, mom's top-secret cranberry-golden raisin spice cake, indian clothes, my friends and Jesus.
now you know everything. :) and i can't wait to bore you some more ;) | | |
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