The Unfortunate Weave

The Unfortunate Weave


Once upon a time, there was a young weaver in the rural textile town of Pochampalli. He worked as a daily wager in a huge factory, earning very little amounts every day. When he found out that he would be getting married in a short period of time, he decided to present his fiance a fine silk sari, a luxurious and lavish gift that a simple man like himself could not afford. But he worked diligently and saved just enough money to do as he wished.

Unfortunately, his mother fell very sick and he had to give up his hard earned money to contribute towards his mother’s expensive medical treatment, and nothing was left for his wife’s sari.

A year later, the couple were blessed with a young daughter, and on her naming ceremony, the weaver vowed to buy a silk sari for his daughter’s own wedding.

Competition in the textile market was high, and there was unemployment all over the country. The weaver’s wages dropped drastically. His working hours were tiresome and long, but he barely earned enough to feed enough to feed his family – under such curcumstances, he was in no position to save enough money for his daughter’s silk sari.

He finally decided to take matters into his own hands. Everyday as he came back from work, he would sneak one metre of think silk thread into his pocket, and would add that thread to the handloom at his home.

Days passed, weeks passed, and months were replaced by years. On one fine day, his wife unexpectedly passed away. Though heartbroken, he continued with his work, raising his daughter on his own. But just a few weeks later, as he walked out of his work place, he tripped onto the floor, and the silk thread spilled out of his pocket.

Immediately, he is thrown into prison unfairly without given a chance at a trial. He spends fifteen long years in jail. Finally, the weaver goes home after getting released from the prison, expecting a warm welcome from his daughter, only to find that she had dies that very day.

Tears flooded down the weaver’s cheeks as he saw his daughter’s lifeless body. He tears through the house, and takes his half finished sari project which was by then only 4 feet long. He tried to wrap his daughter in that square of cloth. To his immense dismay, the woven cloth was too short to cover the girl’s body. He tried to pull, stretch, and lengthen it, but his attempt was futile.

He fell down on his knees, but his tears stopped abruptly. He laughed maniacally, a vacant expression in his eyes. And for the rest of his life, his half fulfilled desire – his most ardent wish haunted him.


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