‘And like threads across borders stories unite and weave communities together just as a single silk thread drifting in the wind carries strength in its own tale’
Threads across borders
‘One day this’ll be yours’
the words hang in the air waiting to be held
You cast a fleeting glance over
half noticing the way your mother
surrounded by a pile of neatly pressed clothes
sits, a queen on her throne
yet the throne seems fractured
You’re distracted as a series of alerts
glide across your screen
book a lunch
plan a date
pay an invoice
schedule an appointment
You catch a glimpse of her meticulously
folding, unfolding, refolding
a creamy offset white dupatta
It shimmers with silver vertical lines
imprinted with flowers running down the fabric
And you think how the duppatta
with its on trend silver fringed border
will match your white outfit
for the many invitations pending
You watch as she gently lifts a green kameez
sparkling with golden sequins
And you know its a colour where endless debates will ensue
throughout changing seasons and lights
where no one will settle on the colour
but the colour will remain true
for four decades and more
Her hands flatten the creases over and over
as her fingers loop around the swirls of gold
tracing a path long forgotten
A reminder, her once nimble fingers
stitched each golden sequin one by one
Whilst her cataracts cloud her eyesight with doubt
She marvels at her once intricate handiwork
A single tear rolls out the corner of her eye
and lands like a coin dropped in a golden wishing well
Time sprints around you, refusing to slow
yet the memory of the golden thread tugs
threatening to unravel
and among the chaos
You crave a stillness
that never comes
You’ll remember that time
Your mother spoke of silks and fabrics
of a white dupatta gifted by her mother
for the wedding yet to be
Of a 15 year old daughter
who by the solitarily glow of an antique oil lamp
eagerly sat through the stillness of the night
painstakingly threading a silver fringed border
A new chapter loomed ahead of her
as excitement and fear churned inside her
She embroidered, knitted and sewed her anxieties calm
carefully sealing her dreams into beautiful crafted pieces
And so the dupatta travelled
along its very own Silk Road
from Pakistan to Britain
Wrapped up in a collection of hand stitched clothes
of sindhi, moti and sitara kadahi
eager to be worn on the most special of occasions
Milestones came and went
Houses turned into homes
The family grew and grew
Yet the special moment was yet to arrive
The dupatta would wait patiently
away from the heat, the sun and light
in a battered old suitcase
surrounded by the chitter chatter of children
raised voices and laughter
Days turned into weeks
weeks into months
years into decades
and those voices faded and returned
and disappeared once again
but the special occasion was yet to arrive
Here You sit, decades later
folding, unfolding, refolding
the unworn dupatta that crossed lands and seas
the silver patterned flowers catching the morning light
dancing a thousand unspoken stories
You’ll think of threads across borders
holding family ties and memories together
and while you’re searching for a sense of belonging
through archives, people and places
amid hidden histories and untold stories
You’ll find it, somewhat, in a tale about a dupatta
delicately handled by four generations of females
a skill you’ll hear, taught from a grandmother, to a mother,
from an aunt to her daughter
legacies tangled and woven through time
And like threads across borders
stories unite and weave communities together
just as a single silk thread drifting in the wind
carries strength in its own tale
And suddenly it makes perfect sense
this sanctuary you seek
in finding your place in the world
is not actually a place, a person or thing
but a connection within
It’s a love for yourself and all that you are
Shasta Ali works in the Third Sector and is a writer, anti-racism and women’s rights campaigner. Her writing explores race, identity and heritage, with work published and featured in Scottish BPOC Writers Network, The National, STV Scotland and Fringe of Colour Films, among others. Shasta lives in beautiful Edinburgh and can often be found with a cup of tea, pondering over how we’re all part of a global story, with more uniting us than dividing us. @ShastaHAli
‘i remember that i love you now as much as i did when we first met and i wish i had told you that on …