SARI MANIA

For many, one of the joys of travel are the unique shopping possibilities.  While I am not much of a shopper, some of our most treasured possessions are those that we have purchased while traveling.  Deb, on the other hand, loves to shop.  She loves to find that special treasure that can be found nowhere else.  Since Deb needed something to wear to Bikram’s wedding and we were in Kanchipuram, famous for its silk, we went on  a quest to find the perfect sari.

After lunch, we drive through the chaotic streets of Kanchipuram to local shop “famous” for its hand made saris.  The proprietor welcomes us into his shop and ushers us in to a back room where a poor man is sitting on the floor, eating a meager lunch.  At the boss’s command he crawls up into the loom to demonstrate how saris are made.  Dispiritedly he pushes the shuttle to and fro.  Deb and I are embarrassed and suggest that he should get back to his lunch. 

Returning to the first room we entered we are seated and shown to a wide variety of colors and patterns of cloth that are especially woven to become saris.  Each sari “blank” is  six yards of fabric, with specific portions of the length dedicated to the skirt, the body, the blouse and the over the shoulder part.  One buys the fabric and takes it to a tailor who, in a matter of an hour or so, cuts the appropriate section and  stiches it into a wearable garment all for just a few dollars.

After looking at several pieces, I am curious about the price as I have had glimpses of price tags ranging into hundreds of dollars.   When the shop owner starts quoting prices, I tell Deb I think we are in the wrong place.  She quickly agrees and we leave.

Back in the car, Deb asks the driver about the shop.  He admits that it is a tourist shop and prices are inflated.  Deb has the inspiration to ask the driver where he would take his mother to buy a sari.  He grins and says,  “I know just the place”.

We fight our way through the afternoon traffic and wind down narrow side streets to pull up in front of a rather nondescript building.  A simple blue and white sign proclaims:  A S BABU SAH.  Below the sign is a large blue drape that obscures the whole front of the shop.  We jump out of the car and slip behind the curtain.  We are invited to leave our shoes at the door where we enter into a chaotic (I seem to use the work chaotic a lot here) scene of hundreds of women dressed in a kaleidoscope of colorful saris. Multicolored bolts of fabric unfurl like flags in the wind to the accompaniment of a cacophony of female voices chattering excitedly.

 An attendant approaches us and asks what price range and fabric we are interested in.  We reply and are escorted into a room that matches our requirements.  We elbow our way to the floor where a wizened man starts asking Deb what she wants to see.  She says, ”Something nice for a wedding.”  He grins and says a few words to a female assistant who barks out orders to other assistants.  Soon we are confronted with stacks of fabric which the man starts flinging into the air to reveal the full glory of the sari.  

We look at tens of saris and I can see Deb is getting overwhelmed.  I try to help and after several minutes manage to narrow it down to around 15 saris.  Deb looks at one and looks up at the female assistant who gives her a nod.  Deb realizes she is on to something so continues to solicit the approval of the assistant who is soon joined by a gaggle of women who help Deb to further winnow  the selection.  Finally, we narrow it down to three saris.  

There are smiles all around as we thank everyone and head to the cash register.  Quickly, we are checked out and, with lighter pockets, back on the street.  We drive off to Chennai where we will spend the night before an early morning flight to Jaipur en route to the Pushkar camel fair.