East meets West

What happens when you take Indian maximalism and put it on a minimalist? THEA MULCHANDANI wears a little too much jewellery to find out.

- 

It's 10 minutes before we have to leave for my cousin’s mehendi and my mum won't stop handing me jhumkas, each pair bigger and shinier than the last.

And I won't stop turning them down, “It’s just too much gold for me to wear; I don't like it.” A thousand miles away on the Ganga river bed, the ashes of my Sindhi ancestors begin to shift.

My wardrobe is devoid of pattern, painted in solid shades of earthy tones and neutrals. When it comes to jewellery, I wear the same three dainty rings and two barely-visible necklaces every single day—the entirety of my collection. There must have been an error in my genetic code because I was born an oxymoron. A minimalist Sindhi. My personal style is inspired by the streets of Copenhagen, but when I walk down Mumbai roads, next to women in floral jamdani saris and glittering jewellery, I look bland. Somewhere along the line, I've gone from European chic to plain boring. And I do not want to be boring.

Sindhis are bold—unapologetically so. They show off the richness of South Asian design with unfaltering pride, and there is so much to be shown off. I felt both awe and alienation. Why can't I do the same—in a way that allows me to breathe and still feel like myself?