May 14, 2009 09:32 PM
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The word "silk sarees" was synonymous with South Indian maamis (auntyjis), lots of Gold jewellery (uncleaned for ages) fading jasmine flower and big bindis and kumkums. Aversion was the most natural feeling, which happened whenever I used to hear women talking about "Pattu Podavai." (silk Saree). My first pattu podavai was when I was in college and had some function at home. I wasn't desperate for more until my own wedding, when it became mandatory to buy half a dozen.
If you are from Delhi and used to shopping quite often, then you are in for quite a number of surprises.
1) For one, when you go to Chennai silk saree shop, you would usually find the sarees neatly piled up and covered with glasses unlike Delhi saree shops where the concept of glass slider for the shelf is non-existent.
2) There wouldn't be many sarees on the table.
3) The lazy shopkeeper would pull out just one or two sarees unlike our Bhaiyya (this species is found in North India, predominantly in Delhi) who tirelessly spreads at least five layers of different pieces within the span of 30 seconds.
4) Be prepared to ask him more than once to open the saree to see the pallu. According to him, showing a saree for a longer time means its value is diminishing. It can't be kept open for long.
5) The fellow grahak would elbow his (rather her) way to where you stand, even if the shop is less crowded. There is one interesting thing we observed. The sarees liked by us were kept aside - which means, we may buy it but will reject it if we get a better saree than that. Now, two women would come and look at that saree, examine the texture, say something positive about it and would wonder if they can buy. Your mood for self-praise will be replaced by an urgency to buy it in case the women want to buy the same and you have already decided to buy it without giving another thought. Of course, your pride of selecting a good saree receives a boost, but little do you realize that the strangest part is that this happens at every silk saree shop you go to. There isn't even a slightest doubt of the whole episode to be a marketing gimmick to make you buy things fast, until you exchange your ideas with another relative who also hails from another place other than Chennai and he/she also replies the same happening to him/her.
6) Be warned that there are no places to sit and you would be standing most the time, unless the shopkeeper shows some sympathy on you and asks someone to bring a stool. There are subtle arguments in case you show a slight displeasure towards the colours. In case the shopkeeper is known to you, he will offer an orange colured drink - presumably Miranda or Fanta (may be they are available in huge quantities for less amount). But its uniformly orange in every shop.
We headed for Kanjivaram which isn't as arrogant as Chennai. The small-town people are always more frank/blunt, honest and patient. The empty shop is a welcome change for someone who is always pushed away by the loud and curious aunties. By now, I assure you that colours and sarees would be moving in your head and even if you close your eyes, some new combination of saree and border would emerge in your brain. Or you have a very similar sarees everywhere and would be slightly dissatisfied until you find something, which is totally new, which would be rare.
Silk is slowly catching up in North India. Apart from elegance, it is said that when it is worn during havan or Puja in South, it has the power to absorb the mantras chanted. Though there is a section of people who hate silk since silkworm is cruelly killed... I agree with them too ( well, this is going to be my last purchase)
It isn’t a bad experience, but in case you are not too sure, head straight for Nalli (especially when you are in Delhi)
