ROOTS, the fourth volume of ALTR Magazine, explores the inner workings of the fashion industry as we understand it today, delving into the history, culture, and experience that has shaped the way we a
Every Saturday in my grandmother's house I watched the ladies of an ashram preach words of wisdom in pristine white cotton saris. "Why always white?" I once asked her, tugging at her pallu as we sat next to each other on the sofa. "White is where everything begins and ends, like Saraswati's knowledge," she explained, her voice soft with reverence. "It's pure enough to hold prayers, yet strong enough to hold grief." White in India isn't emptiness but fullness-breathing with the gentle power of all possibilities, like the blank page that contains every story ever told.
Finally, there's saffron-a color etched into my memory from the earliest pilgrimages with my family. As a child, I was mesmerised by the ochre-orange that seemed to belong neither to earth nor sky, yet somehow connected both. "This is Lord Brahma, the creator's color," my father explained as I watched saffron robes tread along the dusty paths. "In Persia, they believe this color holds the sun's resurrection power," he told me. When sunlight catches a sadhu's robe, transforming simple cloth into embers, you're witnessing spiritual commitment. Each thread carries intention, each garment embodies transformation. Like the spice it comes from, saffron is both offering and medicine, both adornment and essence.
ALTR Magazine