The Saree and its Excess Baggage

As a lanky young girl in her late teens who first stepped into Medical School, I gawked in horror when I was told that I was supposed to wear sarees to classes for a month or so as part of the college tradition for all Freshers. That the whole saree thing was to be accompanied by drippingly oiled hair parted in the middle and braided with the ends tied with fluorescent orange and green ribbons is another story in itself, of course. But for the eighteen year old me, who didn't really care how she looked, the oiled hair wasn't an issue as much as the saree was - simply because I had absolutely no clue how to drape one. 

Cut to a little over a decade later, as a newly married woman, the women of my husband's family and extended family are pleasantly surprised as to just how comfortably I drape my sarees, not requiring the help that was very generously offered by a bevy of aunts and sisters in law. Somewhere in these past few years, I fell in love with this quintessentially Indian drape - loved by many of my mother's generation, feared by some of my friends, disliked by few - but largely, admired by one and all. 

For Indian millenial women, draping a saree may or may not be exactly what they like doing, and understandably so. For most, myself included, we maybe drape one to wedding functions or when we simply feel like dressing up for a social do. But what I have realised that the moment we make that choice of wearing/not wearing a saree, we open ourselves up to a sea of perceptions and judgement. 

For someone like me who likes wearing sarees, I may choose to wear one to work someday. Just like that. No reason in particular. But what is perplexing is that people then automatically think I have been forced/coerced into doing so. At the other end of the spectrum, when receiving guests at home, if I wear a saree, the elders all smile appreciatively, while some may even commend me on having managed to wear it in the first place. Choosing not to wear a saree on formal occasions, specially for young married women, may be frowned upon. With the evolution in our society, though slow, people may not walk up to the woman in question and blatantly suggest her to change; but if she does drape one, chances of appreciation immediately multiply.

As a result of all the perceptions that come with it, wearing a saree requires more forethought than simply worrying about matching blouses and petticoats. Wear one to work and one may be labelled "regressive" or there may be whispers about how "the inlaws must have told her to"; wear one at home and forever run the risk of living up to expectations of frequently wearing one; wear a simple cotton one it to a evening do and yet run the risk of being overdressed simply because it is a saree ; wear it to a family function and hear people gush about how "sanskaari" you are -the list of perceptions attached to a saree is endless.

It is high time we look at the saree for what it is - a garment. Rooted in our culture, a part of our being, but a garment nonetheless. And the choice to wear/not wear one should only be governed by one's own willingness to, and not by what people may think of you as a result of it. As far as I am concerned, my journey from being a saree-clad woman to a saree-mad woman was complete a few years ago, and that definitely had nothing to do with parental/societal pressures. I love wearing a saree, but it's high time we give our women the freedom to love it or hate it just how they want to.