South Asian fashion enthusiasts eagerly awaited Saturday night, as our beloved Sabyasachi celebrated 25 glorious years. For those unfamiliar with his body of work, Sabyasachi is a visionary, deeply committed to celebrating India’s rich textile heritage and the incredible artistry of its craftsmen. From quirky to earthy, his creations are nothing short of magical, blending tradition and edginess. The show was escapism at its finest – a true testament to his unparalleled artistry or maybe sorcery is a more suitable word.

Watching the show, I couldn’t help but reflect on my own ‘relationship’ with Sabya. My mind wandered back to 2004 to a chilly February afternoon in Delhi. My mother and I had walked into Carma, then the only store in the city stocking his collection. I’d heard much about Sabyasachi and was determined to own at least one of his creations. A salesperson directed us to the collection, and I found myself in front of a gentle, clean-shaven man in a cream kurta and black vest/waistcoat. He introduced the pieces with care, asking about me, my life, and my preferences. Through this warm exchange, he convinced me that mustard yellow was my colour. I was skeptical at first but willing to trust him, encouraged by his confidence and my mother’s agreement. After an hour of trying on ensembles and sharing countless cups of chai, we settled on a mustard yellow saree. As I left the store, he thanked me for trusting him, assuring me that I’d never regret the purchase. Then, he introduced himself. I had just spent an hour in the company of the Sabyasachi. I was mortified that I hadn’t recognized him but in my defense, these were the days before social media. 

Twenty-one years later, that experience feels as vivid as yesterday. That mustard saree remains one of my most treasured possessions – not just for its beauty, but for the memories it holds. When I see it, I’m instantly transported back to that morning: my mother’s laughter, her gentle prodding to “khatam kar kahani” (just buy it already), the waft of ginger in the chai, and the deep gratitude I felt as she gifted me this masterpiece.

Later that year, my mother returned to Delhi for wedding shopping and found herself at Bridal Asia, where Sabya was exhibiting. Ever determined, she arrived early, stood in line and, as the doors opened, charged toward his stall. Small but mighty, my mother was on a mission, and no one could stop her. Within moments, the display was picked clean, but not before she snagged three sarees. Two of them being mustard yellow. She didn’t ask for my opinion; she didn’t need to. She called to proudly to share details of her haul. It wasn’t about the purchase; it was her patience, persistence and thoughtfulness that meant the world to me.

When I think of Sabya, I only think of my mother.  I think of her warmth, her wit, humor, her quirks, strength, and impeccable taste. The sarees themselves are exquisite, but for me, they carry something far deeper: an emotional connection, a flood of memories, and a sense of gratitude I can’t quite put into words. They remind me of a time when life felt perfect – my parents were healthy, my brother had just gotten married, my grandparents were alive, and I was thriving personally and professionally. A time when I felt closest to my most authentic self – carefree, energetic, I laughed louder and danced impulsively. 

Thanks to Sabya, I can escape – if only for a moment – to that blissful time. For that moment, time stands still and I am 25 again. 

Today, my mother is still as mighty as ever, though she struggles with memory loss and doesn’t recall the stories I hold so close to my heart. Sometimes, I remind her, and she laughs, though I can sense her wondering if I’m really talking about her. I haven’t bought another Sabyasachi ensemble since and don’t know if I ever will. Perhaps because I would never want to dilute the precious association and meaning it has for me.