some of the fondest memories I have from my childhood are the weekends I’d spend at my nana-nani’s house.
nana would return from one of his trips down south to erode and Salem, or from the nearby city of Solapur – all known for their textile markets and mills.
he was a sole trader here in Bombay. For a child, all it meant was that whenever he’d return from his trips, he’d get me a freebie in the form of bed sheets, quilts, table runners, and towels.
not the conventional gifts, but gifts, nevertheless.
these textile treasures that he’d come back with, had stories woven in them. some would be a one-of-one, some with a new weaving pattern, some with the wackiest of prints – motifs though, mostly.
perhaps, that has something to do with my love for flowers too?
stories that he’d recite while we’d lay on a chattai (also from his many visits to textile markets) all through the night on the terrace.
so when I moved to my own space, it was a given that i’d be taking some of these gifts with me. one gift in particular came as a housewarming gift from my aunt, who my nana had given this bedsheet to.
she’d kept this one safe for years, in her own treasure chest of fabrics (it runs in the family i guess)
she knew christmas was special to me, has been for years now. so just before my first ever Christmas dinner, she comes home with THE christmas bedsheet. from one generation to another, already a memorable story there.
simple, cotton-made, white sheet, sprinkled with christmas décor prints in the perfect shades of green and red. it felt as though i didn’t need any other décor, the sheet lit up the entire room. took me back to feeling like a 5-year-old who was given a box of lego.
for me though, it was, still is, and always will be a way to reminisce the many other tales my nana would narrate.