These chaddars had been embroidered by Biji, my great grandmother, Ishar Kaur, for her own trousseau probably some time in the early 1920s. Often, women of those times would collect or make such items for their trousseau – handcrafted or embroidered cloth – which later could be used to make several smaller items like dupattas, rumaaley, tablecloths and bedsheets.
This letter dated 28 October, 1942 made its way from Ceylon to Thrissur. It is written by my grandfather and speaks mainly of family matters and describes his life in Ceylon. My nanaji, like many other migrant workers, stayed and worked at the plantations for 7-8 years to support his family.
This type of ghagra or popularly known as ghagri, is typically found among families belonging to the Shekhawati region of Rajasthan. This ghaghri was my great-grandmother, Tejwati Sekseria’s.
Since 1987, not long after he retired as Class II Income Tax officer, thatha has been filling up one page a day with the words Sri Rama Jayam, meaning Jai Sri Ram in Tamil. Every single day, the same words repeated until they cover the entire page.
That’s the thing with tangible objects. They demand to make their presence felt. It’s impossible to ignore the texture of paper made brittle over time, the smell of it, the weight of history that’s contained within. More than the fact of the object, a book in this case, it suggests the owner’s state of mind.
These buttons used to belong to my maternal grandfather, my nana, Sri Ram Puri, who must have likely bought them in the 1920s or 1930s. When he died, my mother received two sets of these buttons from my nani, his wife. One was given to Dolly, my sister and I got these ones.
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