Meandering thoughts - Sita Sreeraman

Well, it is officially about the near end of Autumn as I write this post. I have spent the past few weeks being awed by the different hues of yellow, oranges, reds, purples and browns, as trees shed their foliage and the pumpkins and nuts, clementines, carrots and beets, dahlias and chrysanthemums make their appearance. A final burst of colour before the landscape turns pristine white, broken only by the brown-black tree branches! The gray days feel like twilight as nature starts to turn off the lights and the fog, a collective contended sigh before a well earned rest!

Smriti Irani, the Textiles Minister launched a social media campaign to support handloom textiles in India sometime in April 2016. And it caught on with many joining this campaign, with pictures and posts. And I totally love this campaign and hope it goes on to revive Indian handloom, the prettiest, colurful and most comfortable of all clothing. Handloom, khadi have been close to my heart for many years. My love story with Indian textiles began in Bangalore, where I got to see textiles from various parts of India - be it Gurjari or Mrignayani, KSIC showrooms, Rangachari, Nalli for Kanchipuram and cotton sarees, or exhibitions of Bengal cotton sarees,  Kanta work, Benares silk, Ikkat, Tie and dye etc. I have always come back with a feeling of awe for the colours and patterns. So, here 's my picture for the campaign:

I lost my father this year on the first of March. Yes, it has been a shock and the experience of loss and void will never go away. It may fade but I often feel like a part of me died with him that day too, a beautiful part taken away]

When I was growing up in Cement Nagar, I was part of a small family of about 100-200 families in a small township. Families kept an eye on all children - it was not a my child only culture - as these days. We shared our food, played together, went to school together. If you did something wrong or unsafe, any elder could admonish you.. It was all part of growing up in a big family! People appreciated you, scolded you, accepted you as a family member. No one took offense. When we moved to Trikkur-Trichur, it was my father's family and village that became our world.  It was again a tale of  a big family, lovely gatherings, song and music. And again, anyone could admonish us, scold us, tell us off - be it my Chitappas, Athais, Periammas, Thatha, Paati, the neighbours. No one took unnecessary offense - the child or the parent. If there was a pattern, it would be addressed in the right way.  Most of the time, we ignored what was said. We did not fly with praise, fall with scoldings - t