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A Date With Fashion Parade - Pageant

Discussion in 'Stories (Fiction)' started by Thyagarajan, Oct 13, 2019.

  1. Thyagarajan

    Thyagarajan IL Hall of Fame

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    :hello:
    A Date With Fashion Parade - Pageant :hello:


    Gar firdaus bar ruezameen

    asto hameen asto hameen

    asto hameen ast.*

    The purple satin banner with this blue Urdu quote of poet Amir Khusru was fluttering. Celebrities from fashion world and Kollywood were already present and seated around dressed round tables and cushioned chairs. There is no sign of my friend in the vicinity.

    My parents & I were seated around a round table positioned at a vantage point. The show began with welcome speech to distinguished visitors. I was thinking of my friend perhaps busy in green room at backstage.

    The lawn side lights went off.

    Two Padma Shri awardees attired in immaculate white kurta pajama and heavily embroidered black jacket were walking on a red carpet along the aisle while two videographers running backwards in front of them holding their focus on. But where is my friend?

    Celebrities and city elites stood up from their chair and welcomed the designers Shashikant Naidu and Wendell Roderick by high sounding clasping of their hands. At the same time, a distance band troupe was playing welcome song from a popular movie. They were escorted to the front row and seated on ornamental high back cushion chairs.

    On the stage some kids embellished like angels were chanting softly in chorus - a Sanskrit mantra**- in a whispering and alluring tone in pleasant pitch modulating their voice in a narrow range. It was akin to a gentle long ocean wave raising gradually reaching a crescendo, approaching crashing on the shore and waters retreating back to ocean. I was dreaming my friend beauty personified would be in great attire.

    But for some clinking of glasses and the peace promoting mantra emanating from angels on the stage, an occasional honking of cars from a distance, the place was vibrant. Fresh cut grass smell was wafting with the sound of mantra through the air, produced a kind of inexplicable harmony and set the mood for the next stage.

    This was followed by speeches by Padma Shri awardees. One was comparing the elements of dress making with seven swaras ‘sa-ri-ga-ma-pa-da-ni’ to fabric gray, texturing, weaving, colouring, painting, printing and architecture and the importance of youth vibe in fashion their presence vibes better with his mind, spirit and body.

    He said the celebration is about wedding of tradition with textile. Next the other designer spoke of his passion for thread and music; and weave and sue them in shape and put into use entire palette to express emotions of soul and ethnicity. The senior of the two, declared the parade of oeuvre. My friend, I imagined in some exotic ensemble designed by one of these experts.

    Mom and dad were sipping the orange juice from the tall shining glasses and I was just holding my glass in my palm. I told mom concealing my excitement of my friend would come on stage some time later. Dad was not aware of it.

    On the stage, tiny angels still chanting OM mantra were leaving one by one slowly to the backstage. The stage light dimmed for a moment. Another slim and sleek, lanky lady in yoga attire occupied the centre stage. A cone of ochre light beamed over her from roof, accentuating her contours and silhouettes.

    She gave a short soft speech in accented English about importance of daily yoga regimen for maintaining better fitness and demonstrated how to do the suryanamaskar effectively to reap full benefits. All lights, for enhancing effect dimmed.

    A set of bewitching lanky, fair and anorexic lasses striding one behind the other from either side of the stage tad slowly in the beginning and then accelerated and stood kicking their foot in style facing the audience for a mesmeric moment and then made sharp U turn, disappeared behind the stage.

    They attired in various hues of lehenga saree and khagracholi made of simple and luxury materials mixed such as cotton khadi, jute cloth and georgette with rich golden embroidery and kundan pearl work. I looked hard but could not find yet my friend in that group.

    A young girl and a boy, in fuss free jute ensemble riding on a roller skater from opposite directions, arrived at the centre of the stage gracefully and merged into one in style and then did the camel spin contact and variations of the swan’s lift which had the effect of freezing the time..

    They were said to be - Asian national champions in roller-skating competition. They made gracious skating movements, spun to glory and held the audience spell-bound and to edge of their seat.

    Next was a group of young girls and boys sporting dyed cotton khadi Capri, three-fourth pant with shredded hems and tops and matching kurta. Some of them were wearing stone studded broach which had the effect of making powerful statement. But where is my friend? Has she dropped out of the programme!

    One girl had a shoulder strapped red dyed khadi ripped pant with oval cuts above knee. My blood surged. She was almost resembling my friend.

    Dad was restive; was asking some tricky questions which I dodged answering. We three, for the first time witnessing a fashion parade. It was half past nine. Aroma wafting through gentle breeze from rich buffet food in silver bowls set up on immaculate white covered tables at a distance hitting the nostrils kindling voracious appetite.

    I was wondering whether my friend had any role at all to play on this stage. Also I was wondering how my friend could assure me of finding the stolen bike that I borrowed from my colleague and lost in the afternoon from the parking lot here. (Taj Hotel)

    Rhythmic tunes from clarinet of late Padma Sri Kathri Gopal Nath and appearance of Diva-like mounted on a lion-like figure on the stage with spot light revolving over wrested the audience attention. A sharp look at the figure with several hands behind carrying different type of weapons & coloured strands of threads and textile tools and a palette brush revealed my heart throb as a celestial cynasore.

    Goddess of power in “dyed jute” clothes.

    It was befitting the national festive mood and spirit as in August-September. Soft flute played along strumming violin.

    With multi level tiny electriclights radially displaced over a tall pedestal, glowing behind on either side of the lion which my friend mounted - everything around seemed stood still.

    Dad left to pick up food. I nudged my mom to attention to stage. She was tapping her cheeks with fingers and then kept her palms clapping at a high as others and I did.

    On the stage, from rear of my friend on lion, three crowned angels emerged from either side in a gracefully on their front foot and waist and stood still for a minute or two. It was a picturesque ensemble resulting in total mesmerized audience.

    They collected back again behind my friend and hid themselves one behind the other keeping their elbow on either side at different angles so that audience would see my friend as if she possessed multiple hands. They danced to some popular tune from a box office movie.

    I glanced at mom and she winked with a smile softly

    “Is that your she-friend?”


    *(if there is paradise on earth it is here it is here It is here)


    **असतोमासद्गमय।

    तमसोमाज्योतिर्गमय।

    मृत्योर्मामृतंगमय॥

    ॐशान्तिशान्तिशान्तिः।।

    asato mā sadgamaya

    tamasomā jyotir gamaya

    mrityormāamritam gamaya

    Oṁ śhānti śhānti śhāntiḥ

    From ignorance, lead me to truth;

    From darkness, lead me to light;

    From death, lead me to immortality

    Om peace, peace, peac



     
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  2. Thyagarajan

    Thyagarajan IL Hall of Fame

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    God thank you.
     
  3. FunChin

    FunChin New IL'ite

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    Thanks for posting the meaning of asato ma...good to read
     

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