i tuck in the right end of the saree checking for excess at the bottom, like revising, rewording, deleting words from a poem. turn once, tuck in again make up my mind about how i want the pallu, like i decide the end before writing the beginning. then comes the folding which i invariably get wrong the first time every time much like the infinitely pressed backspace key, followed by almost desperate slapping of keys. i breath a sigh of relief as i pin the pallu, content, before i move on to the daunting gathers - the middle of the poem that looks the same for all but i convince myself otherwise and look in the mirror and find a poem smiling back at me.
Desperate attempts at keeping up the challenge in the face of semester exams look something like this