Close your eyes.
Hear the wooden closet door creaking open.
Buttery saris lay in their wooden palace waiting to chronicle their memories.
Listen to the stream of rose tinted water, as it escapes energetically from the wrung silk yarns to the bucket.
In the silence, the rhythmic mantra of a shuttle swiftly sprinting across, completes the warp and weft.
Clinking bangles and clapping looms.
The spiced aroma of wood entwines with the ambrosial scents of silk, bringing to life a bewildering but soul-stirring fragrance.
This is the heart of Bindu Giri.
That heart-warming cultural patronage that threads together narratives.
Threads together lifetimes.
