Delinquent Drapes

Last week I showed up at work in one of my chiffon salwar kurtas. “Ooh Maggi!” chirped my colleagues. “You look so beautiful in a sari.” This is not the first time that American women have referred to the salwar as a “sari” in my presence. Part of this problem could be the fact that most Westerners have some vague idea that the Indian woman wears a sari. What my western counterparts do not realize is that somewhere during the last two decades the sardarni bequeathed her traditional attire to the rest of India and now the salwar suit is even more ubiquitous as “Indian clothes” than the sari itself. This, according to me, was a very unfortunate turn of events.

When a sardarni wears a “suit” she makes sure there are enough nips and tucks added to the pattern to make this an almost feminine attire. First of all, she chooses the material with an eye for detail. Her suits are usually made out of soft crepe silk or bright chiffons that hug the contours of her body. Her kurtas are quite figure hugging and the salwars have a flattering “gher” [gathers] that mimic the sexy harem pants of Arabic belly dancers. Next, when she finally dons her outfit, the sardarni pays careful attention to the dupatta, the piece that can make or break the effect of the salwar suit. Her dupattas are often the focal points of her ensembles. They are carefully and painstakingly embellished with lace, sequins or embroidery. Often the duppatas are specially dyed to match the colors of the salwar suit. The sardarni arranges this piece-de-resistance artfully over the kurta so as to accentuate her feminine curves.

Unfortunately however, when women from the rest of India [especially South India] eschewed their beautiful saris in favor of not-so-beautiful salwar-kurtas they did not inherit the sardarni’s knack for turning this quite masculine [the salwar suit is nothing but a stylized pant and shirt ensemble] attire into something that can be quite beautiful.

The typical South Indian mami will don a salwar because “saris are so difficult to manage.” “Since when? For generations, Indian women have done anything and everything from riding bicycles to climbing trees wearing saris,” I’m tempted to retort. Anyway, even if the mamis do want to wear a salwar suit occasionally, can’t they find tailors who will do a decent job of sewing one that fits right? Their “modesty” will not let them wear figure hugging clothes, so the kurtas end up looking like shapeless tents. Furthermore, the tailor, in an effort to “save yardage” will fashion the salwar in such a manner that it has no gathers to speak of. The resultant “pant” is often a cross between a salwar and a churidaar. Ready made salwar suits are the worst offenders in this case. As if all this were not enough, the mami treats her dupatta like a poor country cousin. She doesn’t quite know what to do with it. Should she accept it? Should she give it up? She can’t quite do either. She definitely doesn’t think the dupatta warrants extra expenditure. So, unlike her Punjabi cousin, she will not spend the extra bucks to go out and buy this often extravagantly embellished piece of cloth. Instead, she settles for the “free” dupatta that accompanies her ready-made salwar suit. This often turns out to be a meager strip of cloth. We can blame the “let’s save more yardage” mentality for this situation. Anyway, the mami then hangs this strip of cloth in an awkward manner. Sometimes she pins it crosswise across her breasts like the mighty warriors of the Girl Scouts fame. At other times, she pleats it into a thin stiff strip and pins it to one shoulder like her father’s angavastram. Worst of all, she decides to give up the practice of wearing the dupatta altogether and sallies forth in an ungainly manner. Wonder what happened to her modesty.

Sigh! Ladies, I beg you, either go back to wearing your gorgeous silk saris, or go get some lessons from your friendly neighborhood sardarni.