There’s a queue at 4 am outside this Mysore Silk sari store

There are two types of people on a mission in Bengaluru in the wee hours of Saturday morning: those racing to the city’s remote airport to catch a red-eye flight, and those queuing outside a KSIC (Karnataka Silk Industries Corporation) Mysore Silk showroom to snag one of its saris, the stock of which is replenished only twice a week.

Quick context: KSIC is a government-backed organisation awarded with a logo from the Geographical Indication (GI) Registry that grants it sole rights over the Mysore Silk brand name, and each of their saris are stamped with a unique hologram.

I recently made my way to the Jayanagar branch to witness the buzz in person and there were already over 80 people diligently waiting when I arrived at 8:00 am. The first on the scene? A couple who had been sitting in front of the shutters since 1:00 am. Thirty-year-old Archana, one-half of the duo, says “I lined up here last week too but because I arrived later at 4:00 am, I wasn’t in the first 10 and couldn’t get the specific red shade I’m after.” Surely, they must be a befitting occasion on the horizon that is fuelling her resolve? “There’s no occasion!” exclaims her husband. “This sari is like an heirloom and I just want to have one to pass it on,” replies Archana in her defence.

Kavita Prasad who is here with her 20-year-old daughter has the same aspirations. “I already have 15 of these preserved for her. The quality and colour combinations are much better than any other brands. My engagement sari, gifted by my in-laws, was a royal blue KSIC Mysore Silk sari.” Her daughter recalls it as the first sari she ever wore and shares how she hopes to eventually build her own collection one day.

Not everyone is braving sleep deprivation to actually make a purchase, like Kaavya who just wants to see what the craze is all about. “I don’t own any yet but I’m planning to buy one after seeing it all over social media.” Meanwhile, Shweta, 34, here since 4:00 am, was entrusted by a college friend in Australia who wanted a KSIC Mysore Silk sari shipped overseas for a function. Best friend goals.

The demand-supply imbalance (only 80 saris have reportedly arrived today), is a sure-shot way of triggering FOMO in even the most pragmatic consumers. “Whatever is in stock, we have to feel lucky to get it,” says 26-year-old Pooja Ramesh, who is ready to spend up to ₹50,000 even if it means settling for something she didn’t have in mind (the saris start at ₹25,000 and can go over a lakh)

Many resident Bangaloreans are puzzled by the overnight queues, token system and the one-per-person shopping cap that has turned every KSIC outlet into a high-stakes competition. “We don’t understand the craze because we were always mad about it. Ask any local and they can confirm,” Rashmi Raj, 40, told me over the phone. “The reels I see surprise me. Earlier, I could walk into any showroom on any day and pick whatever I wanted. I have saris that are five years old that I haven’t even stitched blouses for because I’m still waiting for an occasion. But that’s fine, their value only goes up, it’s like a Birkin!”

With a whopping 52 KSIC Mysore silk saris in her wardrobe, superfan Swathi Charan, 34, was in her early teens when she first saw her grandmother wearing one and she vouches for their comfort and understated beauty. But it’s her husband who is more willing to queue up to get his hands on one.

Standing here in front of KSIC Jayanagar, I can confirm that Charan’s husband’s devotion isn’t an anomaly. “This is just madness,” says Pavan, but that hasn’t stopped him from waiting since 4:00 am, armed with colour and border specifications, to buy a sari for his wife who is back in Mysuru. “It’s my way of showing love to her, she’s been buying from KSIC much before the hype,” he admits.

But what exactly are people lining up for? I asked Dr Khonika Gope, assistant professor at University of Oregon and sari connoisseur, who explains how the state-backed approval assures a certain kind of authenticity. “You know they haven’t compromised on material quality; the fabric is 100 per cent mulberry silk with real gold and silver zari,” explains Gope. She also credits actor Rashmika Mandanna’s reception look—a striking red pure crepe silk version from Jade by Monica and Karishma—for reviving interest around traditional weaves. Although hers was not specifically affiliated with KSIC, the border featured similar motifs like the Gandaberunda (the official state emblem of Karnataka) and was a deliberate nod to Mandanna’s South Indian roots.

“There’s a positive shift in how we perceive all things local and regional weaves like this have transcended boundaries due to social media,” says Gope. Instead of opting for a heavy Benarasi or Kanchipuram sari like most celebrities, the actor’s choice to wear a more local style started a healthy discourse around the different iterations available.

In a fast-fashion plagued landscape where each trend feels as disposable as the next, these saris also stand the test of time. “My mum’s KSIC silk saris are 40 to 45 years old but have still retained their quality. It’s a precious piece of history that goes through the family. Fashion can’t get slower than this—you literally have to wait to get these now,” shares Akhila Anantharaman, 40, who is also waiting in line.

The wait is rewarding indeed. Archana and her husband, the first ones to step in and out from the store with a bag each after a gruelling 10 hour-wait (!!), are greeted with claps, oohs and aahs before a pack of well-meaning aunties swoop in to inspect their haul. Meanwhile, I debated texting my editor to ask if buying a sari can be expensed in the name of research.