Nine Yard Sarees is a multigenerational portrait of a fictional Tamil Brahmin family. Comprising eleven interlinked stories, this short story cycle traces the lives of nine women from 1950 all the way to 2019, shedding light on the community and its evolution through the decades. As the stories take us from India to Singapore, Australia and even America, we follow the experiences of the women in the family: Raji the matriarch who lives in seclusion at an ashram; her daughter Padma who struggles to raise her family the traditional way; Padma’s daughter Keerthana who is about to be married and don the nine yard saree, a symbol of womanhood. Tender, dynamic and full of heart, this cycle is a resonant portrayal of female solidarity and the complexities of the diasporic experience in contemporary Singapore.

Excerpt

1 May 2000


Dear Padma,


This is Amma. I believe this is my first ever letter to you. In fact, it is my first time in 56 years of existing in this world that I am writing a letter addressed to anyone in particular. I only ever pick up the pen to write ஓம்108 times each evening in my notebook. So, this feels strange to me, as if I am in first standard again.


The truth is, by the time you receive this letter in the post, I would have left your Ganesan Mama and Gomathi Mami and moved out of Chennai. I know this will come as a shock to
you and your younger sister. What kind of mother leaves without a word, you may think.

 

But I trust that the two of you are old enough to understand. You see, when your father left us and his atma merged with heaven, I had no idea what to do. It was different from losing my sister or my parents. You and Prema returned to Singapore after the funeral, and I was suddenly very alone in Chennai. You would not believe how people treat widows, the way they would hide from me as if I were a disease. Above everything, without the only man I have ever loved in my life, I was overcome with this foreign feeling of loneliness. You did ask me several times to come over and live with your family because you feared that I would feel this way. But I hope you understand—no place outside of India can ever be my home. It will never feel right for me, even if it does to you both, for which I am glad.


I do not have to tell you that your father was a good man. You know as well as I do. He kept me steady and strong whenever I wavered, and I have wavered so many times in this life. He was the one person who could make me believe once again in the goodness of people, and in the value of living. Of life itself. But without him, I am not so sure anymore.