My Grandmother's Saris

When my grandmother moved in with us this year, she brought two suitcases full of saris. Silks in deep red and gold, cottons in soft blue and green, one bright orange that she wore on her wedding day in 1958.

On Sunday afternoons she takes them out one by one and tells us their stories. This one she wore to my mother's school graduation. That one she bought in a market in Varanasi after bargaining for an hour. This green one was a gift from her sister, who embroidered the border herself, every stitch.

My daughter, who is eleven, has started trying them on. My grandmother wraps her in them carefully, folding and tucking the fabric, teaching her the pleats. They laugh at how long it takes. They take photos.

For Diwali this year, my daughter wore the green one with the embroidered border. My grandmother looked at her and said, "My sister would be so happy." Then she made us all dance.