"Weaving Stories: A Sari Saga from Tradition to Modernity"

Interestingly, for ages, sarees have been woven, finished, and sold by men. When people ask me what my relationship is with sarees, I try not to delve into the fact that I can never say I am a saree connoisseur, but yet sarees have formed an integral part of my childhood and my growing up. My grandmother's and great-grandmothers and my mother, my sister, and my wife are now connoisseurs of sarees, and how much they know about the history of sarees is something to reckon with. I try to narrate the chronicles of the saree saga in the write-up that continues from the alibi of what I have been chronicling earlier with ardent fervor. Least, but honestly, my writing is based on the extensive research and development I have been doing for this blog. My humble request to my well-wishers: if you have something to share, please do let me know, but I wouldn't claim myself to be a plausible scholar in the Saree fanatics school of learning, but a true ardent follower and connoisseur, definitively yes. So here goes my continuation of my story of the saree.
With the advent of British rule and the influx of Victorian standards of propriety and morality, the fine, translucent saris worn by Indian women were considered too salacious and indecent. As a result, the blouse and petticoat were introduced by the British as a norm for everyday dressing to be followed by Indian women.
The industrial revolution began to influence India in myriad ways in the 1940s. While it served as a boost to technological developments and production systems, it had an adverse effect on the Indian handloom sector. Handspun and handwoven khadi saris were replaced by European mill-made chiffon saris, often worn with lacy petticoats and frilly blouses. This was especially popular among Parsi women.
When the Swadeshi movement came into full force, Satyagrahi women wore khadi saris and cholis, often draped in the nivi style. Popularized by Gyanodanandini Tagore (Rabindranath Tagore’s sister-in-law), this went on to become the most popular style of wearing a sari at the time and is still popular today. The nivi is the ulta palla style of wearing a sari, with the pleats in front and at the center of the waist. This style was also made fashionable by its prevalence in Bengali cinema and by looks that went on to become iconic in Hindi cinema, like the white chiffon sari worn by Rekha in the film Silsila (1981).
The sari is draped in more than 100 styles across the country, evolving with time and influenced heavily by geographical factors. A woman from the north of India could historically be found wearing a tunic with a woolen shawl draped as a sari, while a woman from Rajasthan, which experiences extreme summers, would drape hers in a relaxed, airy style. In fact, Rajasthani women also covered their heads, both as a symbol of modesty and to protect them from the extreme heat; sometimes they would even dampen the pallu in order to regulate body temperature.
Quite apart from aesthetics, then, the sari played a functional role. Kolis spent most of their time fishing with their feet in water; this required their women to have shorter saris, hence the nauvari (9-yard) sari, which was created and worn with one end passing between the legs and tucked in the back, similar to the Gandhara women of the Kushana period. This helped women stay comfortable in the warmth and humidity of the Konkan region while also maintaining their modesty. According to costume historian Rukmini Venkat, this drape was also popular amongst the 'nautch girls' of Maharashtra, as it allowed them to dance freely.
In the book Women of India by Otto Rothfeld, featuring illustrations by M.V. Durand Kar, the sari is described more as a costume and less as a part of a woman’s lifestyle. But for an Indian woman, the sari is not a costume; it’s a medium of expression, a way of life. It lends her a sense of ownership, pride, and belonging. It is her companion through good times and bad—worn to both celebrate her wedding day and mourn the passing of a loved one. Every pleat and every fold of a sari has a story to tell.

As Ally Matthan said in her TEDx talk, “When these saris die, the stories die, the voices of the women die, the voices of the men who weave these saris die.” When a woman wears a sari, she not only drapes herself in a piece of cloth, she drapes herself in history.