Sorrowed by Sari

We can glorify the enchanting six yards of fabric as a synonym for elegance, beauty and style. It is exotic; it is sensuous, seductive and feminine; it is traditional. It is the only outfit which reveals as much as it hides ;-)

All this is fine with me as long as the sari is draped by somebody else…!

Wearing a sari has not been one of my favorite things to do. For one, it involves draping SIX yards of fabric around me. Given that the heat and humidity levels in Cochin are of such infernal levels that hell’s own devils could sit back and feel right at home here!!
But there are times when “inevitable impediments” is not taken for a valid alibi and you end up giving in to the threats and pleas of others, more to make yourself at peace than to satisfy the people around you.
It was on one such occasion, that I finally decided to wear a sari to college. It was my first attempt, and needless to say, like every other first attempts of my life, this one too turned out to be a fiasco!

By the time I was through with draping my sari the first time round I was wrung out with sweat, and the crisp ironing has dissipated into crumpledness. I then looked at myself in the mirror and realized that, I had tied the petticoat with such laxity that a step and the entire contraption could fall to the floor in a public situation of such horrifying embarrassment potential that I could never ever recover from it enough to ever make a public appearance beyond my front door.
The ordeal began all over again. Undrape, unpin, tighten petticoat nada, breathe in, and breathe out, Drape back the saree carefully all over self, Do the pleats, Stick safety pin into sari.* SIGH *
In between I managed to stick the safety pin safely into my finger which began spouting blood like a geyser.*argghhhhhhhh*…I screamed and did the Rumpelstiltskin hop and jump and stomping dance, until my very concerned family members outside knocked at the door gently and asked if i needed help and whether I was alright. I snapped at them to leave ME alone, and get on with their work, they having already donned pajama kurtas and knickers and mundu, of which no pins and draping form part of.

Cryptic comments were heard from the living room about how given the time taken to emerge from getting dressed in the same state of dishabille as i had gone in. I ignored the comments with the disdain they are worthy of and got back into the bedroom, slamming door shut with appropriate force. *HUMH*
I got back to draping. Drape, drape, drape, pleat, pleat, pleat, pin, pin, pin, for another half an hour or so….till….. Voila, done!!!! :-)
I looked at myself in the mirror and to my horror I noticed that the pleats at the waist begun somewhere near the right hip bone, and the pleats at the shoulder were of such unequal sizing that random theory came to my mind. I repleated and pined again. The pleats at the pallu defied all theories and formed an edge so jagged that knew the very instant that I would have to spend the whole day holding one end gracefully up so that no one notices. The pleats at the waist were now at centre *phew* , but were sticking out in absurd directions like hat hair!! :-(

I couldn’t care any less and I had had enough, I slipped into my shoes and marched downstairs with much lack of grace when I realized my mom rolling her eyes, dad staring at me as though I just got out of my mother ship from planet Zora and my brother rolling on the floor laughing out loud (rolflol), like a bad Victorian woman.

I looked at my reflection in horror and sat down and bawled, I had worn the sari wrong….laterally inverted! ; the pleats were resting on my right shoulder instead of gracefully falling over my left side.
TO HELL WITH SAREE……:i screamed!!!
I went back into the bedroom enjoyed the whole day with my friends in my new blue Salwar Kameeze!!!