My aunt, Neelam, tells me that this silk banarasi saree had been a gift to my grandmother, Chandrika Devi, from my grandfather’s side and she wore it at her bidai, when she left her father’s home for her husband’s. It is a Gulabi pink colour and has been woven in the finest banarasi weaving technique – Kadhua or Kadwa, which means kadha hua or embroidered
Amongst these items was a white cotton mulmul odhni, a large scarf like a dupatta, entirely hand embroidered with chikankari by her grandmother, who was from Lucknow, and presented to her on her wedding day on 29 June 1954. I cannot recall ever being enamored by anything as much as that odhni.
This Kirpan belonged to Shanta Boora, my nani , my maternal grandmother. She always carried this with her.
One such thing is a beautiful Persian carpet, which started its life in Qom where my husband’s grandparents bought it while on holiday more than 50 years ago. In the centre is a medallion, a tradition harking back to early 15th century Persian Manuscript covers. The medallion has four flowers coming off at each corner topped with a palm tree motif.
One of her aides in acclimatizing to her new environment, was the family cook, Misser ji. Custodian of lost and aged recipes, raconteur par excellence and caretaker of all the silverware used for cooking and serving – the young girl that my grandmum was, latched on to him to not just pick up the unfamiliar language and its nuances, but also conquer palates with dishes such as ‘kulfe ki kadhi’ and santre ka raita, beaten yogurt with oranges.
Receive a new story from somewhere in the Indian subcontinent in your inbox every week!