A Letter to the Hands that Taught Me
Dearest Dadi,
Do you remember those quiet afternoons? While the other kids were outside, I was always at your feet. My things were the scraps of fabric you left behind. My friends used to fill their slam diaries with dreams of being doctors or pilots, but mine always had just one answer: I want to be a designer.
I grew up watching you turn fabric into magic. The patience in your knitting needles and the love you poured into every stitch of embroidery. Those are best memories.
Life moved fast, Dadi, but your skill stayed. Then came my own two little reasons to dream again. My daughter, with her “Blushy” cheeks and love for all things beautiful, and my son, whose “Moo” cows are his constant companions. Together, they gave me the name and the purpose: Blushymoo.
When the world stopped during Covid and my daughter’s first birthday arrived, I sat at a machine just like you used to and made her first dress. That spark of confidence became a flame, and today, it’s a brand.
 I want the children of today to feel connected to our India, to feel grounded and rooted in the values we hold, to slow down. Childhood is disappearing way too fast these days, and I want to offer them “Slow Fashion”, thoughtful, meaningful art that only our culture can produce.
I miss you every day. I still think about those three sarees you hand-embroidered. I wanted them so badly as a souvenir. I hope that one day, we’ll meet again, and I can sit at your feet to learn your secrets one more time.
Until then, I’ll keep stitching our story.
With a heart full of your lessons,
Yours Grand-daughter