Sometimes, it feels as if there is a tether pulling us towards India. An unspoken draw that lures us back, time and time again. Almost as if the first time our mother visited – well over twenty years ago now – a seed was planted, and those roots softly stowed within us. Beautifully entangled and gnarled now around our very essence. Perhaps India’s allure is that it’s a place of contradictions; sounds, colours, and smells diverging the senses in a way that is at once dissonant and lyrical. Or maybe it’s the overwhelmingly vivid nature of the landscape, or the people with whom a conversation can stretch into an easy, languid lifetime. Perhaps it’s all and none of those reasons at the same time.
Either way, this story doesn’t finish quite yet. This is a story that webs and weaves across continents, sunrises and summers, and traverses the generations that tie it all together.
Our mother spent her whole career in the fashion industry, so it was her work that first carried her to India. There, she was introduced to the Sawhney family who run and operate a garment production company in Delhi. Mr. Sawhney has two daughters, who are coincidentally more or less the same age as us. As young women, they moved to New York – one studied at Parsons School of Design and the other worked in the financial business – and for over a decade the city was their home, until the tether tugged, as it so often does, and they returned to India to join their father's company.
Today, the factory is run by the two daughters, Shuchi and Shubhi. Mr. Sawhney and his wife remain closely involved, and despite his advanced age, he still visits the factory almost every day.