The 5-Yard Menace

The following is an article I submitted for my college magazine in my first semester. It was something I felt strongly about at the time when the college was expected to make us uniforms - as usual - guess what the girls got? I hope you like it:

My tirade is a result of the compulsions of wearing a sari as a uniform. (No sari was hurt during the making of this melodrama.) Granted that a sari is grand and elegant, and delightfully feminine – but its practicality, or lack thereof, forces us to question its relevance as formal attire in today’s business world.

Let’s get down to the basics from a student perspective. A sari forces a student to consider a more “safe” mode of transport – no sane girl would risk coming on her two-wheeler wearing one of these. For those who are just not used to a sari, travel by bus is also ruled out as chances are you’d trip and fall from the steps. I suppose now you’re thinking “So just get used to it then”…but it is easier said than done my friend.

Ask the young women of today and they’d tell you they’d rather not wear a sari unless it’s to a wedding or some important function where all that is required of them is to sit on a chair and look pretty. To carry off a sari well, a woman has to wear at least medium size heels for added height, and the sari border should delicately graze the ground. While one hand holds the end of the pallu, the other is probably clutching a handbag, a child, or in some not-so-rare cases a mug of beer, while the rest of the body is focusing on not losing balance and tripping on the sari. One really cannot blame working women, especially those for whom it is compulsory, for tying their saris above their ankles – it’s either that or fall and lose a couple of teeth.

Saris have been around for over 5000 years, and are still considered very fashionable. A sari should make a statement and its suitability depends on its various characteristics: the fabric, design, colour and style. What may suit one woman need not necessarily suit another and enforcing it as a uniform just kills everything that makes it so unique. A student in a sari will just not be comfortable wearing something that ensures that she cannot move beyond her seat, let alone climb many floors with a laptop and books in had. What’s more, if it happens to be a freezing cold day, the aerodynamics guarantees that cold air reaches all the wrong places. Let us now add on a jersey and woollen stockings to this 5-yard menace…Gasp! I can already feel the suffocation as I type this!

Histrionics aside, I would like wrap off (pun intended) by saying that as much as I enjoy wearing a sari, I could only truly feel comfortable in one if the occasion called for it. This generation grew up wearing clothes that were practical and suited for the purpose, and we’re now expected to wear something that requires millions of safety pins (ok at least 10!) to keep it together. Perhaps not every woman feels this way and there are many who could probably run marathons wearing one. Millions of saris in jataang (trans.: blinding) copper-sulphate blue must already be stocked up for us somewhere, ready to be handed out when the time is right. For now, I shall make do with my bed sheets for practice.