More than words

Style choices may be limited for those with disabilities, but fashion still carries the same codes—of self-expression and individuality.

- By AVANI THAKKAR.

Safely tucked away in my nani's cupboard is a rani-pink cotton midi-dress with a billowy fit and pleats that have softened in the absence of its wearer. It was dear to her firstborn—my maasi—who passed away in 2019, just shy of her 45th birthday. Despite being unable to speak and carry out basic cognitive tasks due to a developmental disability, Tinu maasi relished the act of dressing up and was meticulous about her clothes. Having spent the majority of my summer vacations with her and my maternal grandparents in Gujarat, I was privy to her wardrobe, stacked exclusively with round-neck midi-dresses in every sprightly colour combination imaginable. These were custom-made by the local tailor, who accounted for her unique body proportions because ready-made garments failed her.

If maasi wasn't in the mood to wear her no-frills 'home' dress on a Monday morning and wanted to lounge in one of the fancy, velvet ones that my nani—her primary caretaker—had reserved for special occasions, she would tug at it until she got her way.

The entire house, and even unsuspecting guests, would know when maasi was sporting a new dress. There was no need for words; she'd just clutch her pleats and make intense eye contact, as if to ask “How do I look?” Compliments were met with a hearty laugh and playful hand gestures—her way of saying thank you.

Sunglasses and hats were not safe in her vicinity. She was infamous for sneaking up on you, swiping them and plonking them on herself. During winter, sweaters and beanies entered Tinu maasi's list of prized possessions—more things to choose from. When my great-grandfather brought her a shawl embroidered with pink roses from Rishikesh, she refused to part with it even when the season changed.