Stories Behind the Sarees

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Librarian Kasthuri uncovers the timeless elegance and cultural significance of sarees in Singapore.

To an Indian woman, a saree speaks volumes about her life. She might remember holding on to the tip of her mother’s saree as a child learning to walk or wrapping her own child in her saree. An article in the Straits Times praises the saree as “an ingenious creation by the ancient civilisations”. It not only protects women from extreme weather, it also celebrates the beauty of the female form.[1]

I find it profound that something as intimate as an item of clothing has also been the inspiration for epic tales in history. An example is the Mahabharata, in which the disrobing of Draupadi’s saree brought about war and destruction. It makes me wonder if the first Indian female convict, brought over to Singapore by the British in 1825, would have felt as traumatised as Draupadi, when she was asked to part with her saree, to abide by the prison rules.[2]

Sarees also served as an inspiration for my creativity throughout my childhood. Memories of colourful tents and fortresses my brother and I “built” out of my mother’s sarees are still etched in my mind. Dressing up as Hindu goddesses was the highlight of our playtime, hence the possibilities for creativity was endless, thanks to these long drapes. Exploring the different ways of adorning a saree became my favourite pastime throughout my teenage years.

In a South Asian setting, some equate the saree to an Indian woman’s dignity. Others say it is tied to a woman’s identity. Sometimes, the saree becomes a show of status.[3] As academic Mary Harlow pointed out in her analysis of the saree, the pallu (the long, freely dangling end of a saree) serves as a connection back to centuries-old tradition on the one hand, while also allowing the flexibility to be used creatively to suit modern needs and trends. She also points out that a saree can be used by a woman to either veil or reveal herself according to the occasion or her wishes.[4] In other words, the type of body image conveyed through a saree depends on the wearer.

Above is an example of the practice of draping a saree without a blouse. A photograph of a young Hindu girl in saree, in 19th century Singapore. G.R. Lambert & Co, Fotoalbum Singapur (1890)
In the above, we can see a Tamil girl adorning jimikki (earrings) and maattal (hair accessories) with her saree tied with a blouse, photographed in 1920 Singapore. A photograph by A G.R. Lambert & Co. Tamil girl, 1920: headshot

In his article about saree-tying trends in Singapore in the late 1940s, Straits Times editor Gnanam Ponniah wrote that “the saree is one of the most graceful costumes in the world, but it often suffers in the hands of the ill-advised wearer”.[5] In his view, blouses with floral prints should never be worn with printed sarees; broad borders should not be worn by shorter women. Fast forward a decade, Violet Coomarasamy prescribes the types of sarees that will suit a garden party, a theatre show or a formal dinner in the 1950s.[6] It is notable that the contributions of these early “fashion police” have certainly influenced the evolution of saree-tying in Singapore today.

Indian women in sarees and long plaits while shopping in the 1950s. Indian women, 1950s.
Saris. In Her World (July 1960). Singapore: Straits Times Press (Malaya) Ltd., 38–39.
Saree as formal wear as demonstrated by the principal of Methodist Girls’ School, receiving an award in her saree from the Governor of Singapore in 1957. Mrs. Ellice Handy receiving the Order of the British Empire (OBE) from Sir Robert Black, 20 July 1957.

As superficial as it may seem to us today, the type of saree and the way a saree is worn has an effect on its “audience”. It was reported that when the Japanese troops came across the photograph of Mrs G. H. Namazie in her residence, tastefully adorning a party saree with a beautiful smile on her face, they proclaimed her to be a goddess and bowed in front of the portrait every day.[7] Mrs Namazie was a tireless social worker and owned a collection of at least a hundred exquisite sarees, which she generously used to loan out to others for special occasions.

The saree has also worn over women from other cultures. “The most elegant of western evening dresses cannot compete with the vivid saree…” stated journalist Kay Norton, comparing European gowns to not just the saree but also to other Asian women wear such as the sarong kebaya and the cheongsam.[8]

Such was the appeal of the saree to the western world that Singapore became a flourishing market place for fusion wear in the 1950s, where the writer shows how an evening dress, two cocktail dresses and a hostess gown could be made from one saree material, that is about six yards longs and four feet wide.[9] The growing popularity of sarees in Singapore soon boosted the sales in textile shops situated at High Street such as Sumanglam Impex and New India Emporium especially in the 1980s.[10]

Saree sale being advertised at P Govindasamy Pillai (S) Pte Ltd, a shop in Serangoon Road area. Ministry of Information and the Arts Collection, courtesy of National Archives of Singapore.
A saree salesgirl, 1980s. Courtesy of National Archives of Singapore

While sarees helped inspired creativity for many designers, there could be nothing as remarkable as stories of sarees that had saved peoples’ lives during the Japanese Occupation. Pearl Winifred Davis, an English nurse in Singapore, survived the Japanese Occupation without internment due to kindly neighbours and a saree as a disguise.[11] Similarly, Chinese women have also been assisted by their Indian friends by disguising in sarees to escape harsh treatment from the Japanese troops.[12]

Can sarees be eventually replaced by other forms of creative wear in the future? Well, when the five-year-old me got a taste of trying on my mother’s wedding saree for the first time, I already knew in my heart that I would never get bored of or run out of ideas on adorning these seven yards of wonder for the rest of my life.

A five-year-old Kasthuri in her mother’s wedding saree, dressed up and photographed by her father, 1988. Courtesy of Kasthuri Elamaran.

Kasthuri was a librarian with the National Library, Singapore.

[1]Clinging Passionately to Flowing Sarees,” Straits Times, 25 December 1981, 4. (From NewspaperSG)

[2] John Frederick Adolphus McNair, Prisoners Their Own Warders: A Record of the Convict Prison at Singapore in the Straits Settlements […] (Westminster: Archibald Constable and Co., 1899), 38–9. (Call no. 365.95957 MAC -[JSB]

[3] Mukulika Banerjee, The Sari (Oxford & New York: Berg, 2008), 11–22. (Call no. 391.20954 BAN -[CUS])

[4] Mary Harlow, “Palla, Pallu, Chador: Draped Clothing in Ancient and Modern Cultures,” in Marie-Louise Nosch (Ed.), Global Textile Encounters (Philadelphia: Oxbow Books, 2014), 15–24. (Call no. 391 GLO –[CUS])

[5] Gnanam Ponniah, “Hints on Sarees,” Straits Times, 17 January 1948, 5. (From NewspaperSG)

[6] Violet Coomarasamy, “The Fashion in Sarees,” Singapore Free Press, 14 October 1950, 1. (From NewspaperSG)

[7]A Goddess in Singapore,” Straits Times, 19 September 1948, 3. (From NewspaperSG)

[8] Kay Norton, “If It’s Glamour You’re Looking For,” Straits Times, 14 June 1949, 9. (From NewspaperSG)

[9]The Svelte West and Exotic East,” Straits Times, 13 February 1955, 7. (From NewspaperSG)

[10]Sarees on the Move,” Singapore Monitor, 29 March 1985, 37; “This Emporium Offers a Choice of 900 Designs,” Singapore Monitor, 29 March 1985, 38. (From NewspaperSG)

[11]White Woman in Hiding,” Straits Times, 21 September 1945, 2. (From NewspaperSG)

[12] Salachee Ratanam, oral history interview, 29 March 1993, MP3 audio, National Archives of Singapore (accession no. 000349)

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