Intro

As my journey of reconnecting with Punjab neared its end, a strong feeling pulled me towards my ancestral family home, the house on my mother's side where I was born. Before leaving, I hoped to find some tangible pieces of our family's story, perhaps old photographs or cherished keepsakes, something to carry back with me that held the essence of those who came before.

Echoes in a Changing House

The house itself was in a state of transition. Renovations were underway, a physical reminder of how time moves and reshapes things. Dust from disturbed plaster and the distinct, earthy scent of old concrete and bricks hung in the air. It was emotional to walk through rooms that held so many unspoken family memories, now being prepared for a new chapter.

Amidst the areas marked for change, one room had been left largely untouched, almost as if it were waiting. It was there, with my mother helping me sort through forgotten belongings, that we came across an unexpected treasure. Tucked under a dusty covering was my grandmother's dowry chest. It was a magnificent piece of woodworking, heavy and solid. Such chests were heirlooms, meant to carry the important items for a bride's new life, symbolizing hope and continuity. Opening the chest felt like opening a door to the past.

A Forgotten Gift

Inside, nestled amongst heavy quilts and large brass vessels once used for festive family meals, were layers of carefully stored linens. And there, as we carefully sifted through, my mother pointed to a length of fabric, folded meticulously, almost hidden. Even in the dim light, its delicate floral pattern caught my eye. The colours, vibrant purples floral prints, softened with muted grey and overall white. It seemed to hold stories.

My mother then pieced together the memories for me. Decades ago, my late grandfather, during a work trip to Germany, had brought this fabric back as a special gift for my grandmother. He had hoped she would have it stitched into a beautiful salwar kameez, a traditional Punjabi outfit. But, for reasons now lost to time, maybe she felt she already had enough, or perhaps life simply got in the way, she never did. And so, the fabric remained folded, preserved in the quiet darkness of the chest, waiting for years.

An Unspoken Connection

Holding it, I felt an immediate, strong connection, especially knowing I was standing in the house of my birth. While floral prints like this were often liked by older women of her generation, this felt different. It wasn’t just cloth, it felt filled with purpose, with the love of the grandfather I barely remembered but knew had been overjoyed when I was born, and with the quiet presence of the grandmother I wished I’d known better. It seemed like more than just a coincidence that I, with my mother by my side, should find it now, in this place, at this specific moment of personal rediscovery.

A strong desire grew within me, this fabric needed to be used as intended. I decided then and there to have it stitched, but into the traditional salwar kameez my grandfather had imagined. It felt like a way of honouring them, of bridging the gap between generations. It was like allowing their hopes and intentions, which had been dormant for so long, to finally come to life. Wearing it wouldn't just be wearing clothing, it would feel like being surrounded by their presence, carrying their legacy forward in a real way.

Symbolism Woven Through Time

This forgotten textile, holding quiet beauty and waiting for the right moment to be brought into the light, felt very symbolic. It reminded me of my earlier experiences on this trip with simple, natural remedies, and the profound sense of balance they offered.

Like those effective natural ingredients sourced from the earth, this fabric was a gift from the past. It was filled with an inherent value that had been preserved, untouched by time, much like how traditional methods like solar drying preserve an ingredient's natural potency. Both represented overlooked treasures holding quiet wisdom. The remedies held the power to heal and balance skin; the fabric held the threads of family history, love, and resilience. Both were waiting patiently, not to be simply admired as old things, but to be revived, used, and woven into the present with care and intention.

This discovery, in the house where my life began, felt deeply significant. Finding that forgotten fabric, much like rediscovering the wisdom of simple, natural remedies, became a quiet affirmation. It wasn't about a vision forming in that moment, but rather about recognizing the immense power and meaning held within these rediscovered pieces of heritage. It was a reminder that the past holds enduring strength and beauty, ready to enrich our present. These moments, these threads of connection, stayed with me, shaping a quiet commitment to honour such wisdom and explore how it might be carried forward with purpose. 

— Rupali, Founder