Today, on the auspicious occasion of Mahashivratri, I found myself surrounded by black black artifacts, emojis, gifs, video greetings and intricate rangolis. It was a stark contrast that took me back to my childhood. With due respect to all traditions, I felt compelled to jot down these thoughts on how much our perspectives have shifted.
Those were the days of a very specific family culture for girls where "black" was essentially blacked out. I don’t recollect seeing it anywhere around me not in our dresses, not in jewelry, and certainly not in our rangolis. I never knew the reason why, and I never asked.
I was very well known for my large and unique rangolis. While any other color was allowed to fill the background on the floor, black was strictly forbidden. In fact, it wasn't until I started working that I truly "bumped into" the existence of black rangoli powder. Even things like black nail paint only entered my consciousness much later, through my children.
I sometimes joke that perhaps those restrictions were why I was in a hurry to get married so I could finally, officially, wear those sacred black beads.
Back then, without any explicit superstition being explained, black was simply "not a good color." Yet today, I see it everywhere. It is in the rangolis at our doorsteps, in our festive sarees, and even in specially designed outfits for naming ceremonies. What was once avoided is now a statement of elegance.
I am at peace with both worlds the one with "no black" and the one with "all black." It is remarkable how much we have had to accept, adjust, and adopt in such a short span of years.
Felt like sharing, with due respect to the past and the present.
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