I’m sharing a little piece of my videography presentation and the words that come from my heart when I speak about the saree ritual in India.
“Just as dance offered Elizabeth a way to inhabit India through art, it was also her body —her most intimate vehicle— that gradually became a space of communion. On that journey, every gesture learned, every mudra, every step in Odissi was also an act of belonging. But it wasn’t just about moving like in India; it was also about living in India through her skin, her clothes, her everyday life.
That’s when she discovered that, in this country, dressing isn’t just a practical action: it’s a ceremony.
Putting on a saree in India isn’t simply about getting dressed. It’s an act filled with beauty, patience, and meaning. For an Indian woman, and also for those who adopt this tradition with respect, wearing a saree is almost a ritual of transformation.
As with dance, there are no shortcuts or improvisation. There is technique, yes, but also devotion. Six meters of fabric that don’t just dress, they transform. Because just like in Odissi, where every movement is imbued with meaning —whether it’s to evoke a deity or convey an emotion— the saree also speaks: of the place, the moment, the state of the soul.
A saree isn’t “put on,” it’s draped. It’s embraced. There are no zippers or buttons, just fabric and technique. Six meters of silk, cotton, or chiffon that embrace the body like a second skin, shaping the silhouette with the elegance of something ancestral. Every pleat that falls over the hip, every drape that crosses the chest, every twist of the pallu (the part that falls over the shoulder) has its own reason and rhythm. No two sarees are worn the same way, and no two women inhabit them in the same way.
Saree ritual in India
In many regions, the mother teaches the daughter how to wear it. Sometimes with laughter, sometimes with scolding. It’s an intimate legacy passed from one generation to the next. The mirror becomes an altar, and the body, a canvas. Ankles are covered, the navel left exposed —a subtle symbol of feminine power: creation, the center of life.
Beyond aesthetics, the saree is a soft armor. It protects, beautifies, roots. In it, identity is expressed: the language of color, castes, regions, even the occasion. There is a saree for mourning, another for weddings, another for dancing. And when a woman walks with a well-draped saree, there is a dignity in her stride that commands respect.
For Elizabeth, wearing a saree was also a gesture of devotion. Every time she does it, she partakes in something greater. A silent rite that connects her to millions of women and centuries of history. As if in that simple act of dressing, the soul is also woven.
The Odissi costume is not a costume or an ornament: it’s an evolution of the saree ritual, adapted to allow movement while preserving the grace and message of the ancient.
During training, Elizabeth uses a special version: a narrower, lighter saree without adornments, but which still inspires the same respect. Training with that fabric is learning to inhabit it. The body is also disciplined through the cloth. There are no zippers, no shortcuts, only the patience of wrapping and the balance of form and function.
In this way, putting on the saree and practicing Odissi became for her two facets of the same journey: one where art and life are not separate. Each time she wraps herself in that long, simple cloth, each time she practices a tribhanga or marks a mudra, she revives a millenary tradition that transforms her from the outside in.
The saree —like dance— doesn’t just dress the body: it turns it into a symbol. And in every rehearsal, every performance, Elizabeth doesn’t just dance: she honors.”
ENJOY THE LIVE EVENT:
