Twenty-six Saris

As I draped my first sari around my body, my hands moved as if they had performed this wrapping, folding and tucking every day for a lifetime. And perhaps they had, in some previous incarnation. The act of dressing in a sari always brings on an intense deja vu.

My twenty-six saris sit on a shelf in my closet, each beautiful in its own special way. Each chosen for some unique quality which appealed to my senses. When I purchased my last sari, I made a promise to myself that I would wear every one of them at least once before leaving this life.

I have worn nine of them. My hands have only to perform the ritual seventeen times more and my promise will be kept. Tomorrow I shall wear the sari with a procession of elegantly decorated elephants, trunks uplifted, promenading across the pallu.