Sometimes, out of the blue I smell starched, sun dried clothes & I wonder if it has something to do with my grandmother, if she around.
One of my clearest child hood memories is picking up the dry sarees off the gravel in the front yard with her.I even remember the color & the motif. Little pieces of gravel stuck to the fabric, still warm from the sun, We held it up with both hands on either sides & shook them vigorously to shed the stones, pulling the ends diagonally to straighten out the starched folds.Once the fabric was squared & free of gravel we folded them,still warm & smelling of sun, passing ends from one to the other.The pile went straight to her almari by her bed.The wooden shelves filled with the scent of sun
One of my clearest child hood memories is picking up the dry sarees off the gravel in the front yard with her.I even remember the color & the motif. Little pieces of gravel stuck to the fabric, still warm from the sun, We held it up with both hands on either sides & shook them vigorously to shed the stones, pulling the ends diagonally to straighten out the starched folds.Once the fabric was squared & free of gravel we folded them,still warm & smelling of sun, passing ends from one to the other.The pile went straight to her almari by her bed.The wooden shelves filled with the scent of sun
