Sari Love + CMA
When I was five years old, we lived on Graham Street in Toledo, Ohio. My father was a resident at Toledo Mercy Hospital. He was one of several doctors who practiced at Mercy and settled with their young families on the street. I remember all the light sandy colored one-floor bungalows that were split in half with front and back living quarters, almost like barracks.
“Dr. and Mrs. Galani were our neighbors from India. It was the first time I ever saw another culture outside of my own that felt exotic, mesmerizing, and ancient.”
I remember smelling the amazing spices and other-world aromas floating from their house through open screen windows as I rode my electric blue banana seat bike (affectionately named Blue Lightning with handlebar tassels of course) down the sliver of blacktop driveway between our homes. Those scents were nothing like my family’s run-of-the-mill white rice, chicken adobo with soy sauce standard fare. Nope, next door felt foreign and downright potent, prickling and tickling my first grader nose. Which is funny, given I always felt like the lone Filipino “foreigner” myself. I found myself imagining how people might perceive our home and heritage through this “other / outsider” lens like I was with our Indian neighbors.
It was also the first time I encountered the concept of an arranged marriage. I always wondered why Mrs. Galani towered a foot taller than the petite Dr. Galani, who seemed to be descended from royalty with bushy eyebrows and a wide smile. I pictured him with a jewel-studded plumed velvet turban to match his regal air and Mrs. Galani’s curiously scarlet-dotted forehead. (I was enchanted by the Galani family, to say the least.) Mrs. Galani’s elderly mother came to visit from India once. At the time, I had no idea where India was, but I knew it was far far away. Mrs. Galani’s mother had tattooed writing all over her arms with earlobe holes the size of saucers grazing her shoulders when she sat cross-legged making naan. She seemed to have landed in the Galani’s living room, perfectly poised in swirls of her cream sari like a nest.
“I remember marveling at her brown crepe skin that folded and creased like dough. She sat with one knee tucked under as she made homemade naan from a blackened metal cooking dish.”
She looked like she came from another time, place, and orbit. I was clearly in a form of kid culture shock meets culture crush.
As a little girl, I thought my mom became an Indian princess when Mrs. Galani dressed her in a purple sari dripping with gold accents as if Mrs. Galani were an Indian Fairy Godmother from a Filipino-Indian Cinderella Saturday cartoon. It was so extravagant and over-the-top, and so not my practical Filipino mom. The excess sweeping silk fabric draped over my mom’s shoulder in an elegant swoosh with her pale belly peeking shyly from under her crop top. I had never seen my mom transformed before my eyes. I loved the photo with my dad in our front yard with my sari-styled mom beaming and radiant. Ever since then, I’ve been fascinated by the magic of all things India.
I’ve always wanted to go to India. I saw a photograph of a chalk-painted elephant festival not long ago. It was so arresting to me to see these majestic creatures kissed with colored chalk dustings and designs. Who thought this was a good idea? And why oh why weren’t Americans and Filipinos ever this imaginative, I asked myself?! I have my very own copy of the Bhagavad Ghita and am enamored by my Ganesh and Baby Krishna silkscreen prints, too – gifts from friends and their travels.
“Oh, the Indian food, textiles, fashion, spirituality, spices, and all of the mystical, magical energy. Plus the Hindu goddesses and the birthplace of yoga – what’s not to love about India I thought.”
I reached out to my friend Shalini to ask her if she would be so kind as to help me with an unusual request. I was planning to go to a Halloween party later that week at the Cleveland Museum of Art and was about to dig up my black sari from my friend Lynda who had given it to me as a present from when she went to India on an artist residency. Shalini was a great sport and wrapped me. I felt like an Indian princess, just like my mom when I was a kid.
What was it about Shalini that seemed so destined that we meet? Our very first conversation involved me sharing my fangirl love and lifelong fascination with India. Shalini launched a wonderful travel company, Exceptional India, designing custom itineraries and girlfriend getaways of a lifetime. Exploring authentic, off-the-grid local cultural experiences, Shalini wanted to share all the wonder and complexity of her beautiful Indian homeland. From mountains to monasteries, to tribal customs and spiritual treks in the Himalayas, I loved all of her spectacular photos, old-world stories about her family and cross-cultural adventures. When I was recovering from my cancer surgeries, Shalini kindly dropped off Indian comfort food with homemade yogurt, spices and grilled veggies that warmed my heart and spirit – just like Shalini. I especially love this quote from her site:
“I haven’t been everywhere,
but it’s on my list.” - Susan Sontag
I really couldn’t stop dreaming about India after we met. And I can’t explain it, but suddenly I was seeing elephant imagery everywhere.
Loving the sophisticated multicultural decor from Limelight…
More elephant inspo! All from Limelight!
I parked outside of an elementary school and saw a painted elephant with Indian motifs painted on the brick wall directly in front of my car. Eclectic elephant wallpaper and elephant planters straight out of Architectural Digest appeared out of nowhere (then everywhere!) in work and client meeting settings. Elephant journals and elephant posters. I was suddenly getting a strong magnetic pull like I needed to go on a trip to India. I could see it and feel it in my bones. I told my friend Maxene about this.
Magical elephant spotting – literally! – at Tyler Village
“‘I wonder what’s waiting for you in India.’ Her words reverberated in my head as a cavernous echo.”
I couldn’t stop thinking about what she said. “Maybe you were reincarnated, and lived there at one time.” See what I mean by mystical and magical? Not sure when I’ll be making it to India, though I know it is in my future. For now, I’ll continue to don my fave black sari any chance that I get – even if for once a year at Halloween.
I am suddenly (and well, always) hungry for some Choolah…