• By: RIYANKA
• Jul 01, 2025
• (1) Comments

Exploring the World, One Saree At a Time

This morning, during a random conversation with my friend, Sinchita, she shared an Instagram reel with me, and said, “I love how you wear sarees on all your trips. It’s so inspiring.” I smiled, half-embarrassed and half-surprised. I had never really thought of it as something noteworthy. But her words made me pause, and somewhere between texting her back and starting my day, I realised that I had never thought of wearing a saree as a trend.

Growing up in a Bengali household, sarees were a part of my everyday scenario. I never romanticised them. I never had to. My mother would run errands in them, take me to school wearing one, and whip up a five-course meal on a Sunday afternoon in one. She didn’t necessarily drape for special occasions, but that’s just what she wore. And Pishi (my aunt) was no different. And then there were the teachers in school, the neighbours, the women at the local market. I grew up seeing women living their usual life in sarees.

Sarees weren’t exotic. They were real.

But ironically, when I started travelling, sarees were the last thing on my packing list. I reached for what felt comfortable: jeans, tees, dresses, and so on. The idea of draping a saree in a hostel bathroom or hiking up a hill in one felt far-fetched.

But then, something shifted.

Over the years, as I kept hopping from one corner of the world to another, something inside me craved a sense of grounding. And often, in quiet ways, it came in the form of that familiar swish of fabric brushing against my ankles. I thought about how my mother would have travelled, if she did – and every time I imagined her in a particular place, she was in a saree, beautiful and elegant as she always was. That’s when I started carrying one saree, just one, with me wherever I went. A little piece of home folded neatly between hiking boots and travel adapters.

Much of this journey, I mean this ‘wearing-my-culture-on-my-sleeve’, quite literally, I owe to the two most remarkable women in my life: Maa and Pishi. They taught me that style doesn’t always have to mean what the magazines say it does. That comfort is a state of mind. That beauty lies in how you carry what you wear. I’ve watched them redefine elegance in their own ways, walking through rain and sunshine, laughter and loss, wrapped in their nine yards of confidence.

Now, I must admit that I wasn’t always confident in wearing one, and anyone who knows me well can vouch for it. Draping a saree wasn’t something I mastered overnight. But slowly, I grew into it. And it grew on me. Now, slipping into a saree, even if just for an hour at sunset in a new city, feels like coming back to myself. And it somehow makes me feel that I’m carrying a little bit of my mother with me.

I know it might not always be practical. Let me be honest. Like wearing a saree during a high-altitude trek or walking around the bustling streets in humid weather might not be the best choice. But it is joyful. There’s a quiet pride in doing something that reminds me of my roots. There’s a kind of strength in holding space for tradition, even in the most unexpected places.

And truth be told, the smiles and curious stares I get, especially from other travellers (in a foreign land) who associate sarees with Bollywood glamour, make it all worth it.

Today, my wardrobe boasts sarees that could see me through a trip around the world without repeating a single one (although I occasionally do repeat some). Most of them are heirlooms, ones that my mother left behind or precious pieces that Pishi handed over to me. Some are gifts from friends. And some that I have purchased over the years. Each of them has a story. And as I wear them, while hiking in North Sikkim, exploring the ruins of Angkor in Cambodia, or navigating the back alleys of Cape Town, I stitch new stories onto old weaves.

Travel, for me, has always been about self-discovery. But doing it in a saree? That’s been about reconnection. With who I am. With where I come from. And maybe, just maybe, it’s my way of showing the world that the saree isn’t just a festive garment pulled out for weddings or pujos.

It’s a way of being. Of belonging.

So, here I am, exploring the world, one saree at a time.

Not to make a statement. Neither to set a trend. But because it feels like home.

Here’s a bit of my journey around the world, one saree at a time!