For my project, I have created an 8.2-meter sari using fragments of my mother's old saris. This piece serves as a metaphorical space representing her life, reflecting on the notions of repair and societal norms.

The sari's origin goes far back to the Indus Valley civilisation, when cotton was first cultivated and natural dyes enlivened it with colour. Notwithstanding its ancient origins, the sari's basic form even today remains largely intact. Perhaps for this reason, the sari is often understood internationally as being timeless. Technically, it is just a piece of unstitched cloth (most commonly nine yards long, 8.2 meters) that takes the shape of the one who wears it, unlike other garments where one needs to ‘fit in’.

In my work, I view the sari as more than just a garment or a length of cloth. Drawing upon my relationship with my mother, the sari for me is a vessel for communicating shifting notions of female identity, a language expressed through fabric, and an ideology that has evolved over time alongside the changing contours of the cultural landscape.

My strongest memory from childhood and youth is how my mother draped a sari around herself every morning. Almost like she was wrapping in the folds of her sari the anxieties, insecurities, and her complicated social world around her. It was the uniform of traditional Indian and Hindu patriarchy. It is quite ironic that Hindu patriarchy has chosen the sari as its traditional garment even though it is so freeing in its form.

Women have worn saris in their daily lives, in protest, in celebrations, in daily commutes, to the crown, in paintings, in cinema, and in the political arena, across various geographies all over the subcontinent. It has gone through fashion transformations at all levels, being woven in steel, knotted, and even belted. It has been reimagined to reshape its meaning, perspective, and architecture.

By definition, repair means 'to restore,' 'to renew,' 'to make good,' or 'to strengthen'. And fragmented and repaired cloths in my work, have been treated as a metaphor for grief and loss.

Through the slow process of repetitive hand stitch, I aimed to imbue cloth with emotion reflecting upon my relationship with my mother. In her youth, she used to practice the art of simple stitches called kantha. The word kantha is derived from Sanskrit, denoting a rag or patched garment. They are double-sided embroideries created from worn-out saris. Recycling, repurposing, and the stitching of layers of cloth together lie at the heart of traditional kantha-making.

The final artefact, a full-length collaged sari carefully reconstructed from some torn and some vintage pieces from her wardrobe, represents visible aspects of repair through the patchwork or collage of old saris layered with numerous kantha stitches. Here, the collage of reused old saris and stitches becomes the medium. I believe that the usage of textiles goes beyond restoration on a material level. Instead, it is a metaphor for psychological repair and for exploring the complexity of my mother's world. Due to its ability to adapt shape, the textiles—and more particularly my mother's saris—become synonymous with her story of resilience and survival in the face of domineering patriarchy.

Ed by Priya Khanchandani, The Offbeat Sari: Indian Fashion Unravelled (the Design Museum, 2023) p. 8, 9.

Shelley Rhodes, Fragmentation and Repair for Mixed-Media and Textile Artists (Batsford, 2021) p. 23, 52, 89.

Oum Kumari & Pratibha Mishra, Life after Death: A Saree as Memoir (Routledge, 2023)

Anindita Chatterjee, Weaves and Voices: Tracing the Journey of the Indian Saree (Routledge, 2023)

Pravina Shukla, Evaluating Saris: Social Tension and Aesthetic Complexity in the Textile of Modern India (Western States Folklore Society)

Usha Narasimhan and Preethi Narasimhan, Saree (Sahitya Akademi)