my indian blanket

my blanket is made from a coarse, thick, scratchy material. not classic blanket material, by any stretch of the imagination. it is roughly a small single bed size, and mainly consists of a light beige background covered in a mossy green checked pattern. the edges however, are much more detailed; bringing in blues, lime green and hot pink in a mish mash of patterning which appears aztec in influence.

at tip and tail of the blanket are the requisite tassels and further detail. the edging is pillarbox red, and if my memory serves me correctly, there's also a sunshine yellow somewhere in there. it shouldn't all work together, but it does. the effect is interesting and unusual, but not classically beautiful, and the blanket is warm, but not remotely comfortable!

so why do i love this oddity of a blanket so much? oh, one complex father/daughter relationship is to bame. when i was about 10, my parents split up. it was the biggest drama of my young life, and afterwards, i was distraught to realise i could no longer count on my dad. visits to his house would be cancelled, when we arrived to find the door locked and dad absent (probably in the pub).

i gave up on him, i came to almost hate him, in that strange, vicious teenage way we reserve only for our parents. he was never there, and he can be a frsutrating character at the best of times. around this time, the poor sod got made redundant. and what did he do but bugger off to india to relive his youth in a mountain village in the himalayas.

he had lived there previously in his 20's. in six months all i got was the odd postcard featuring a religious festival and a huge description on the back that didn't remotely interest my 14 year old self. when he returned, the blanket was amongst my presents. woven by the women of that himalayan village, i was distinctly unimpressed! it bore no relation to my life or experiences, and i thought my dad was an arse, quite frankly.

time and distance have softened the blow of all this, but until very recently, i still associated this blanket with these feelings of abandonment. now that i accept my dad for what he is, we have our own semblance of a unique father/daughter relationship. i have let go of the bitterness, deep down in my soul. i find it interesting to note that it was around the same time i let go of my relationship at the time, that i also found that these feelings towards my dad had dissolved. perhaps i was holding on to something that was over as a result of these unresolved emotions? writing as therapy, who knows?!

i now realise that my dad has also taught me many positive things; tolerance, independence and peacefulness amongst them. my interest in travel, books, music, yoga (and all things indian!) has come in part, from him. the blanket, and my love for it, represents my love for him; all this and more.