Even till the time I entered college, the saree was considered an important symbol of ‘growing up’ or entering the more mysterious regions of womanhood. Since our childhood was spent with many references to the ‘Six yards of feminine allure/mystery/beauty’, women of my generation grew up with at least a few representative members of this traditional garment, that had defined Indianness to the outside world for so long.

However, even as far back as twenty odd years ago, the saree was already under an attack of sorts. We wore jeans to college as often as we could, alternating with skirts rather than with a saree. When we wore sarees, it was more like a political comment, or a desire to seem as classy and ‘aware’ as our then idols, Shabana Azmi and Smita Patil, who acted in the alternative cinema of the time. If I had more sarees than many of my contemporaries, it was because I truly liked the garment, believing it made me appear more attractive than I actually was, through weight gains and loss, pregnancy and delivery.

It is hard now to find anybody committed to wearing a saree in the urban or even rural areas. Salwar-kameezes, nighties, jeans, skirts, capris, and a whole crop of dubious clothes going by the label of ‘Indo-Western’ garments have overtaken the saree in popularity. The saree is now being compared to the Japanese kimono - on the verge of extinction. My sister, a mere six years younger than me, cannot remember the last occasion she wore a saree, and regrets the cupboard space her sarees occupy. These remnants of her wedding, Diwali gifts, ceremonial souvenirs are slowly being given away, converted to other outfits, or just put out of sight.

Sari adds to the elegance and mystery that surrounds a woman and gives her personality a new dimension.