Remixing heirloom saris

“It breaks my heart to see an old heirloom being ripped apart like this. After all its not just a sari, its six yards of memories,” says Walkeshwar resident Radhika Das, 52 as her younger daughter Momita, 21 cuts the border and pallu off an old Banarasi silk sari, her mom wore at her wedding. “All of us like the turquoise blue colour, like my daughter now, I had my eyes on this sari since I was little. My mom let me wear it when I was 20. She was furious when I spilt ice-cream on it.” We ask if she'd have approved of what her granddaughter's doing. “I guess she'd be okay. Parents have such different standards for children and grand-children,” she laughs. Unmindful, collegian Momita excitedly lays out the border and pallu on a plain net sari and animatedly discusses the  jewellery that'd go with it. “The sari was stained and torn in the body. In fact mom should be  happy I'm saving whatever could be,” she told DNA pointing out how she got the idea from a classmate.

Across the city in Prabhadevi, 85-year-old matriarch, Kusum Dholakia and her daughter-in-law Meena, 57 are sorting borders gathered from old saris over the years. The daughter-in-law has a passion for creating new saris from old ones. “I began doing it for myself and the family a decade ago but now  people come to me on their own,” says Meena.

The mother-in-law is happy that some of her oldest saris have been preserved in one form or the other. A new silk crepe from the South with buttis (Rs2,500) has been enhanced  by adding a magenta border from a 55-year-old Dharmavaram. “I'd  paid a princely sum of Rs90 then for the sari. The zari still looks new and Meenal has added a green brocade patti which makes it stand apart. Every time she wears it, she gets so many compliments.”

Yet there are some lines which must not be crossed, insists Meenal, who's preserved another grey-fuchsia Kanjeevaram (bought at the Handloom House near the old Victoria Terminus in 1946 for Rs190) which looks brand new. “I'll never touch this one ever,” she says holding against her face lovingly.  

Further north in Thane the senior women in the Billimoria household are aghast that the youngest, Dilshad, 29 wants her mom’s traditional royal blue gara (traditional Parsi wedding sari) cut to make a top (from the body) and another sari from the intricately-sequined border and pallu. “Dikra, this is a family heirloom. You could wear it at your wedding ne,” says grandmom Shirin. She wants Dilshad to change her mind. “But what if I don’t want marriage at all? At least let me wear it as much as I want. Now its just lying in a trunk unused and could get moth-eaten,” Dilshad says in reply, sealing the debate.

The grandmom sees her point and gives the go-ahead reluctantly. “Khudayya! What’ll happen to this generation?” she mutters going back to her prayer beads.

Momita, Meenal and Dilshad aren’t alone. According to designers many are finding ways to preserve familial heritage, hang on to sentiments and nostalgia and yet be ‘with it’ in one go by revisiting old family trunks and digging out forgotten drapes from a bygone-era. “Heirloom saris and ghagras maybe worn out and un-wearable but their elaborate gota, zardozi or brocade work borders have such fine artwork that it'd be a shame to discard them,” points out designer Shaina NC, who has not only been “besieged” with such demands, but also gone and reprised her own grandmom’s sari for herself. “That she wore the same fabric which I am wearing makes it so much more special. Besides it is a nice way to re-invent the contemporary with a touch of the old-worldly.”

But about those who do not have such a khandani legacy to plunder?

Well, trust jugadu Mumbai to have an answer to that too. “Everyone including designers for Hollywood period dramas like Troy come to Chor Bazar in search of antique zari and zardozi work,” says designer Nikhat Mariyam Neerushaa, who’s been designing for TV shows for a decade. Having sourced old zari and zardozi borders from them while designing for her latest the historical series Prithviraj Chauhan, she recommends Wahabbhai’s and Yusuf Sareewala's. “They have a great collection of borders and embellishments, which lend themselves beautifully to contemporary dress, tunic and trouser silhouettes. Whether it is J Valaya, Abu Jani or Neeta Lulla, they all shop there.”

Our next stop then is the 'thieves' market' with decade-old treasure troves, painstakingly gathered from across India through a widespread pheriwalla network, which buys age-old weaves for a pittance. Wahab Sheikh shows us a frayed, patchy 60-year-old “Banarasi beauty” worth over Rs1.25 lakh!

Seeing our jaw fall, he goes on to display it and explain. “The base fabric's tattered but the ornate embellishments are intact. Big names in fashion and Bollywood don’t come here for nothing.” Jodha Akbar had seen creations from his shop being used.

Designer James Ferriera, a Chor Bazar regular, admits some of the old borders can be quite fragile “I take a piece of brocade for example and get it fixed on to a net or chiffon fabric. One has to be very sensitive when working with such stuff.”

He says replacing the heavy base with a more drape-friendly one makes the sari, dupatta or lehenga that much more easy to manage. “It also ends up looking less dressy as the heaviness in buttis, border and pallu and the net offer a good contrast.”

Explaining why he goes looking for old work to reprise, Ferreira says. “When people want classy work they have to revisit old weaves. We either don’t have that kind of expertise any more or it would be prohibitively costly.”

He should know what he's saying. After all he's used antique sari borders to “rejig” everything from photo and door frames to palazzos, skirts and saris. According to him this trend needs to be encouraged. “It is giving new life to something so beautiful, like preserving heritage.”

So next time you're emptying your old trunks and wardrobes of the old ghagra, sari or dupatta think again. Pushing the borders could take you somewhere beautiful...