Dori — the timeless thread of sibling love

In today’s glittering world of designer rakhis, silver-plated charms and personalised gift boxes, it is easy to get caught in the swirl of trends. Yet, somewhere tucked between the aisles of crowded bazaars and flashy online stores, the humble dori — the simple, hand-woven thread — still holds its quiet place.

It whispers stories of a time when love was measured not in price tags, but in gestures. “Back then, most people did not have money to buy fancy rakhis,” recalls 62-year-old Surinder Kaur. “I would sit with my sisters, laughing and bickering, as we braided colourful threads together. Our brother never cared how it looked; he just held out his wrist with pride,” she says.

For many, Raksha Bandhan is less about the rituals and more about the nostalgia it brings. The memory of running to open the door for a sibling returning home after months. The sound of childhood squabbles echoing through the hallways. The half-broken sweets that still tasted like love.

Rajeev, a 42-year-old software engineer, said, “I miss those days when we did fight over the last piece of soan papdi, but on the Raksha Bandhan day, she would be all affection until the next morning.” Now, the ritual is that his sister, living in the US, calls him on the sacred day, and they talk for a long time, sharing memories of when they were children.

Even as distances grow and time rushes forward, that single thread, no matter how ornate or plain, continues to carry the weight of decades. It bridges the gap between cities, countries, and sometimes even strained relationships.

Markets today may dazzle with rakhis made of gold, cartoon characters, and even personalized photos, but somewhere in a forgotten corner, sisters still find the traditional resham dori — soft, fragile-looking, yet unbreakable. And their brothers can be seen proudly flashing it for days to come. Because love, at its core, is simple. Just like that old thread — frayed, faded, but never forgotten.