Sorry not Zari

All that glitters is not pure zari silk saris anymore. Here is why and how they are vanishing from looms, stores, and your shelves.

- NIDHARSHANA RAJU

CLAD in a dull green sari, Keerthy Suresh's Savitri in Mahanati sits quietly in a taxi. She listens as the driver speaks of his daughter's wedding and his mounting worry of affording it. Upon reaching home, she asks him to wait. Inside, she lifts a worn out purse from beneath her pillow, only to find a few coins clink back. She turns to her once overflowing cupboard with gold, gemstones, and cash, and finds nothing but rows of saris. She selects one — gold zari-laced and lustrous silk sari — slips out the back door, and asks a neighbour to pawn it. Then, she presses a thick bundle of notes into the driver's hands and smiles — her kindness wrapped in silk and her downfall traded in silence.

This scene, in the film which earned Keerthy a National Award for Best Actress, lingers long after the credits roll. It lingers for its emotion, but also serves as a quiet reminder that once upon a time a silk sari was wealth itself. Even two decades ago, it could help settle debts or fund a wedding. But today, it's merely fabric that may or may not draw any returns at all, say retailers, weavers, and pawnbrokers, alike.