The incident took place in early 1978. I was five months pregnant.
I was wearing an orange and white floral organdi sari which my father had painstakingly searched and bought for me. The next morning my husband offered to drop me at my university.
Since I was too early, I went with him to his office where a very friendly receptionist praised me on my glowing looks and the beautiful sari.
As it was time for university, my husband dropped me some feet away from my university and went back to work.
As I was walking up to my university, much to my chargin, I saw my sari trailing behind a cyclist's wheel. The poor fellow was unaware that a thread from the hem of my sari had got stuck to the wheel and he was gleefully riding away.
I stood rooted, shocked out of my wits and tears welling as I was standing on the road in my petticot and visibly pregnant.
By passers threw compassionate glances to see a woman stripped off her sari in public.
I managed to get my senses back, picked up the torn sari, bundled it together and walked up to university.
After reaching, I ran to the rest room and tied it with the torn side up so that the damage was not seen.
I visited a lot of tailors to repair the sari but to no use.
Finally a clever tailor managed to stitch the shreds and put them in place so that the sari looked wearable. It was a gift from my dad, so I did not want to throw it away.
Sadly, the sari is not with me. How I wish I had preserved it!!!
I was wearing an orange and white floral organdi sari which my father had painstakingly searched and bought for me. The next morning my husband offered to drop me at my university.
Since I was too early, I went with him to his office where a very friendly receptionist praised me on my glowing looks and the beautiful sari.
As it was time for university, my husband dropped me some feet away from my university and went back to work.
As I was walking up to my university, much to my chargin, I saw my sari trailing behind a cyclist's wheel. The poor fellow was unaware that a thread from the hem of my sari had got stuck to the wheel and he was gleefully riding away.
I stood rooted, shocked out of my wits and tears welling as I was standing on the road in my petticot and visibly pregnant.
By passers threw compassionate glances to see a woman stripped off her sari in public.
I managed to get my senses back, picked up the torn sari, bundled it together and walked up to university.
After reaching, I ran to the rest room and tied it with the torn side up so that the damage was not seen.
I visited a lot of tailors to repair the sari but to no use.
Finally a clever tailor managed to stitch the shreds and put them in place so that the sari looked wearable. It was a gift from my dad, so I did not want to throw it away.
Sadly, the sari is not with me. How I wish I had preserved it!!!
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