rabat circa 1960

I needed a picture from our Rabat days for a post written of the pwhy blog! This was the only one I could find in a hurry. This picture must have been taken on Gandhi Jayanti as mama has donned her khadi sari. I am in my usual party attire a nice frock with a stiff petticoat as was the fashion then. Come to think of it I just had 2 party outfits: one dress and one Indian outfit. In those days it was a cream satin gharara with a lace kurta and a velvet maroon coatie. Eeks but believe you me at that time it was a prices possession that came out on important occasions when I stood with my parents at receptions and parties greeting guests. Being an only child of parents that were 2 generations older, this was par to the course. Never mind if I was just 7 or 8 or older, I was part of the trio that was our family.

I remember how I had to curtsy to each guest and say the appropriate greeting: Excellence if it was a Minister or Ambassador, Monsieur for others. I never erred. I had been well trained. Curtsies were de rigeur in those days. I guess they are laughable now.

Mama's sari is one I had forgotten though I wore it many times in my late teens when I had decided to adopt the Indian look. It was cream khadi with a maroon pattern border and the blouse was of the colour of the border. I wonder where it is now, must look for it. Tatu, as I called my father was always in a black or shite suit with a Nehru collar and shining buttons. In my eyes he was the best looking man! I also remember the dress I am wearing. It was pale yellow and had a bright red ribbon and flower motives. I loved this dress and must have worn it zillions of times till I grew out of it and the next dress arrived.

The picture also brought back memories of our house in Rabat. 1 rue de Kairouan.I remember the swing that was in the basement where I spent hours and hours swinging and playing with my many imaginary friends. Imaginary friends are a must when you are an only child. As I swung higher and higher I could be an air hostess, a teacher, and God knows what else and I would even talk to myself for hours.

Was I happy? Yes I think I was or would like to believe I was!

To be continued