Sarees from Gujurat

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The suitcase opens, seven girls lean in,
the familiar smell of earth and dusty roads
spirals into the room, coiling around me.
A package. Black and white newspaper,
cotton string. I untie the bow and glimpse
aqua, purple, magenta. I tear paper, colours
spill into my lap, the silk like sand
slipping through my fingers.
Gems, beads, sequins, exquisite and exotic.
I sink my hands into the silk, lose myself
in the smell, the touch, I can taste the richness.
I let silk fan out by my feet,
jewelled underlayer. This is the one.
I bundle it quickly. Seven girls
eyeing the sparkling border.





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