Latest news with #Uppada
Hans India
a day ago
- Business
- Hans India
Hyderabad: GHMC Seizes Mangalya Shopping Mall Branch in Hyderabad for Lack of Occupancy Certificate
There is hardly anyone in the Telugu states who hasn't heard of Mangalya Shopping Mall. This shopping destination regularly attracts customers with special offers and is especially popular among women for its wide variety of collections. The mall has branches in almost every area of Hyderabad. However, the real situation came to light during inspections by GHMC Town Planning officials. On Wednesday (June 11), officials seized the multi-storey Mangalya Shopping Mall building at RTC Cross Roads in Hyderabad, which was reportedly constructed without proper permission. According to GHMC Circle 15 Town Planning officials, the building was seized due to the lack of an Occupancy Certificate. Full details about the violations are still awaited. Officials have issued warnings that strict action will be taken against any commercial establishment operating without the required approvals. Interestingly, this particular branch of Mangalya Shopping Mall — its 20th store in Hyderabad — was inaugurated by actress Keerthy Suresh in September last year. During the launch, she expressed happiness at opening the new store and mentioned that the mall offers a wide range of clothing including silk, fancy, Kanchi, Dharmavaram, Uppada silk sarees, kidswear, men's and women's ethnic wear, and special outfits for weddings and festive occasions.
Time of India
11-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Time of India
If I'd memorised saree names like my sis, I'd be a judge
My relationship with sarees is passionate… but like all passionate things, slightly chaotic. I adore them. I admire their weaves, their weight, their sweep as I walk past a mirror. But ask me what kind of saree I'm wearing, and I usually look blank. 'Wow! Beautiful saree… what's it called?' a colleague once asked, eyeing the leafy green one I had on. 'Um… cotton?' I ventured, with the confidence of a student bluffing through an exam. My sister, who was on a video call later that day, nearly choked on her tea. 'That's a Mangalgiri, you silly noodle!' she exclaimed. Ah yes. Of course. Mangalgiri. A name I instantly forgot again five minutes later. You see, my sister is a walking, talking loomopedia. She can identify an Uppada from across the room. She can spot a fake Kanjeevaram like a jeweller spots glass. She once corrected a saree seller in Odisha mid-sentence and ended up getting a discount for 'expertise.' I, meanwhile, am still trying to remember whether it's Ikkat or Ikat… and what a Bomkai even looks like. Sarees are like songs to me… I might forget their names or the exact raga, but I can hum them with heart… and I always remember how they made me feel. My wardrobe is kind of a colourful mess of all the gorgeous weaves and fabrics India has to offer. There's a deep maroon one that crackles like fire when I move… I call it 'that Diwali sari'. There's a faded blue I wear when I want to feel like a breeze… 'the beachy one'. And there's a rich mustard-and-black beauty that I only wear on days I feel unstoppable… 'Boss Lady sari'. No one tell me it's actually a Chanderi… I don't want to ruin the nickname. In fact, I am my own boss. Then another one, I really don't know what saree it is… but I named it 'Happening Saree.' This drives my sister nuts. 'That's a Patola from Gujarat! Do you even know how it's made?' 'Nope,' I smile. 'But I do know it makes me feel like I can win a courtroom drama single-handedly.' She rolls her eyes. I shrug. It's our thing. Sometimes I tell her, 'If I had memorised saree names the way you have, I'd have become a judge or a magistrate by now!' And then I laugh wholeheartedly, while she mutters something about wasted potential and museum tours. Every few weeks, I call her while folding my sarees and hold them up like I'm about to take some saree quiz I never studied for. 'This one?' 'Tussar from Bhagalpur.' 'And this?' 'Kota Doria, obviously!' I nod like I've learnt something life-altering… and then promptly forget it all by the next festive season. But here's the thing: I may not always remember the name of the weave, but I remember how it felt. I wore the blue one when my story made the front page. Or maybe it was the gold one. Either way, I felt like a queen that day. The pale yellow one I wore when I met someone I didn't expect to like, but ended up loving. The unusual printed cotton I wore through an unforgettable summer… 2019 I think, and a string of quiet, eventual little wins. Then there's the creamy silk with a light green border, an heirloom from Maa's family loom. I wore it at Siddhi's place, where I met friends who have since become like family. To me, that's the real magic of a saree… not the name or the label, but the life it lives with you. So yes, I will continue to forget names and mess up pronunciations. Is it Paithani or Pochampally that has the peacocks? I can never keep it straight. Maybe both? Who knows… my sister, probably. And I think Benarasi is a mood, not a place. But hey, I'll still do it all… wrapped up in six yards of whatever confidence and grace I can manage. And if anyone asks me what I'm wearing? I'll just say, 'Grace.'
