India's Six - Yard Wonder : The Saree

   India's Six-Yard Wonder : The Saree

The saree, India's quintessential and ubiquitous garment, is a remarkably adaptable six-yard wonder that continues to evolve with time. There is significant enthusiasm, both domestically and internationally, for exploring India's diverse heritage and highlighting local craftsmanship. This bountiful diversity calls for a deeper engagement with indigenous styles. Acceptance and adoption of this legacy garment will be its saving grace, signaling a shift in perception that  the saree is no longer just a flat six yards of fabric, but a canvas of endless possibilities. The  urban Indian women has increasingly relegated the saree to occasion wear, similar to the Japanese kimono. Fundamentally an unstitched garment,  however, modern, pre-pleated versions provide ease to wear for younger generations, a "homecoming" that blends India's traditional brocades and silks with contemporary, stitched forms. Young graduates feel proud to carry forward their traditions by wearing saree  for their convocation by just  hitching a  hook to an eye at the waist and watching the pre pleated sari fall as their Mother’s Six yard wonder swayed effortlessly and with elan. The saree has witnessed  many changes throughout history. It is a profoundly democratic garment, worn effortlessly by people from all walks of life—from Bollywood screens to agricultural fields—making it an inextricable part of the nation's identity. Its essence can be  beautifully summarized by the French phrase Luxe, calme et volupté (Luxury, calmness, and pleasure).

• Pankaj Mala Bhattacharya

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Poetry: The Serene beauty

        The Serene beauty

( This poem was writen by me back in 1978 when i was a class 8th student at Swami Vivekananda High School, Chembur, Mumbai. I as very much enchanted by the French Teacher,her quite demeanor , her silent beauty .Though I was not her student, I observed her from a distance. A part of me longed to be in her classroom, to hear her speak a language I imagined was as beautiful as she was. It was her, as much as the language itself, that drew me ..Back then I  chose Marathi over French, Music Over Drawing and the direction of my  life changed for ever. And the French teacher, with her silent beauty, faded into a cherished memory. Learning both French and painting together , the opportunity came to me after crossing the age of Sixty,when I  felt that it was the time for the culmination of a journey that began while  i was kid of  14. But the delicate hands that once held a brush with youthful vigor were now fragile, and my memory, once sharp and quick, had grown frail. I had finally found the time, but time, in turn, had taken its toll ).

Her beauty was silent

                yet terrifying

She spoke no words

                her mouth quivered

In the depth of her eyes

                were shadows

of the sorrow

                that was

                insurmountable

yet measurable

                but still they called her

                The stone faced lady

Her unspoken words

                echoed in silence

                producing the effect of

                jingling bells

They are imperishable

                undaunted

But still they called her

                The stone faced lady.

- Pankaj Mala Bhattacharya

Poetry : My Son

                                           My Son

He refused to eat if asked

Even when hungry

He refused to sleep if asked

Even when drowsy

His innocent mind thought

          That `no’ was his weapon

      to draw the attention

     of the crowds

The inner him, refused to obey

He never understood why

He was shouted and abused

His big eyes looked marooned

He behaved as he thought was good

and was spanked

                why I thought

                          he behaved so

                was he a desperate child

                or a child who loved to be loved

                loved to the extent that elated him

Or was he a weak child

uncompromising, unadjustable

the inner weakness left him

boisterous but vacant

                He is the vision of my childhood

                unto him I see my past

                chided,scolded,nervous

                unto me I see his future

                dejected,desperate,loner

                yes he is a child,my child

-Pankaj Mala Bhattacharya

Poetry : Spiritualism

                     Spiritualism

Spiritualism is, a way of life

       a life time pursuit, a trip to eternity

It is soul’s safari,to the unseen world

where silence sings, and solace unfurls

It is the wisdom, saints know since ages,

The Sufi’s mystic, the seeker’s craving

For a  flame that neither fades nor dies,

To see what lies beyond the seen.

in the fleeting breath of life—

It is the soul’s pilgrimage , sans destination,

From transient dusk to deathless union;

A rest, a peace, a calm release—

The boundless breath of inward peace.

unchanged, unbound, timeless, eternal bliss

- Pankaj Mala Bhattacharya