Ramya black kurta maroon dupatta salwar suit saga

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  1. Lines that spoke to me

    • Carrying their unique rebellions, ego parades and wiped cultural history from our memories

    • I would spend my hard earned new income on a wardrobe that developed holes and tears

    • They felt like the song was playing just for them. There was a line in the song about laying a cot in a forest. Whenever he heard that line, Kumaresan would subtly indicate the cot with his eyes, and she would bite her lip shyly and vanish behind the door before timidly reappearing. Towards the end of the song, there was a verse about the hero's raging desire to carry the heroine away with him

    • My earliest associations were of being forced to wear them on nightmare trips to South India. The suits had full sleeves and were tent shaped because my mother feared the moral policing of relatives

    • Also the lingering smell of sambar all day, and constant power cuts punctuated for not being a good enough Tamilian girl. A salwar Kameez felt like my prison uniform for the annual jail term

    • Then my friend was failed because her salwar-kameez was sleeveless, despite delivering a flawless presentation. These were the days before social media (and anyway, it still took #MeToo another decade after Twitter came up, to happen) so our injustices were invisible and our rebellions had to be individual. I went all out with heavy-duty artillery. I became the first student on campus to wear trousers and a pinstripe shirt to a presentation. When my classmates tried to dissuade me, I told them this had been good enough for my bosses in an actual workplace, if a b-school teacher had a problem with it, their subject wasn’t worth scoring in. I aced that presentation, by the way.

    • Salwar-suits fell through the cracks somehow.

    • Today I took the two suits to a new tailor I have, who has made some saree blouses for me. His alteration person (that’s such a great thing we have in India) was able to modify them both. What an odd feeling. I now have two vintage salwar-suits that have not been pre-loved because they have been owned by me but I never got to know them. As if I had to grow into them and they into my life. I also have a shelf full of separates bought at different times, with Indian prints in the fabric I like the most – cotton. And I’m now in a world that allows us a little more variation in the Indian wear we don with less punishment.

    Personal note:- I love my T-shirts and shorts very much, so much that I wear them during winter too, and I feel this is also privilege, if am born as a woman, I would have to wear fully covered clothing maybe even in summers and this treatment is inhumane and cruel. Same I feel with Muslim women who wear Burkha, because its black colour and attracts much heat in summers. It seems cruel to me, to put people through such an ordeal, and I feel like as a society we are sexualizing women too much, it feels like every thing women do turns a man on, every part of her body is sexualized obliterating her other identities. I really do not know what it takes for men to develop a frame of looking at women as human beings, rather than the sexualizing view.

    1. @Harshaman: It’s always wonderful to hear your thoughts. Regarding burkhas, it’s more complex than that. If a woman chooses to be religious and practise her religion by wearing a burkha, should it not be her right to do so? Is it right for you or I, not practicising Islam, to dictate what is right for its believers and how they should dress?