The Sari : In All Its... But the concept of grace, as you know, would differ from one part of the country to the other and thus, although the six yards of unstitched fabric remained constant, the way it was draped around the body differed. In Kerala they cut off the pallu and the part that goes around the torso from the part that is draped around the legs and hips and made it into a two-piece sari worn traditionally with a zari border the chandan color set-mundu is worn during  all festivals and at weddings even by urbanised Keralite girls.

Move up to the Coorg region and the sari is worn severely square at the shoulder,  the pallu draped across the shoulder, making it look more African than Indian but still very easy on the eye. Between the Coorgese woman and the Coorgese sari one doesn't know whom to admire more.

Maybe there should be a visual equivalent of ambidextrous. The traditional Tamilian mami will prefer to drape her heavy Kanchipuram sari around herself, the lower part of the calf uncovered, the extra bit of pallu created thereby wound around her waist. What is striking about her is that she wears the most gorgeous of Kanchipuram saris in this most casual of ways; its like she's dressed to go to a wedding every day.

Moving north to Maharashtra we come to another treatment of unstitched cloth. The six yarder becomes a nav-vari and this is the sari at its naughtiest. Behold the distracting accentuation of the contours of the derriere, the way it is tucked into the waist at the back, the way it sweeps low at the waist, the eye being attracted to the tantalising expense of flesh by the gold waist-band that the Maharashtrian belle inevitable wears. The long pallu rears up now and then like the hood of a cobra and the veni in the bun at the back completes the killing effect the ensemble creates. If there was any incarnation of the sari that would inspire men to lech this was it. No wonder most families in Maharashtra dissaprove of daughters of the house wearing the nav-sari which has now become the domain of the laavni dancers and the aged kaakus. The Shiv-Sena's greatest contribution to this country would be if they would it compulsory for all Maharashtrian women to wear the nav-vari. They could have my vote then.

   The professors of the male as well as of the distaff persuasion treated that girl with   more respect. The peons in the office looker at her with more respect. The principal  would take a girl in a sari more seriously than say, in a T-Shirt and Jeans. Even the guys in college would look at a sari-clad contemporary with more respect.

Did she get that respect as result of the transition she had effected from girl to woman? Was it the result of successfully managing to drape six yards of fabric around her or was there an in-built dress-bias in the Indian psyche? Or was it the respect that any product which has stood the test of time deserves? I mean to say the sari is the longest running 'in fashion' item of feminine apparel in the world ! This phenomenon fascinated me and have been conducting a survey on the aesthetics of the sari since the last twenty years. Here are the results.

The Indian civilisation has always placed a tremendous importance on unstitched fabric. Take a look at the lungi, the set-mundu, the dupatta, the dhoti, the daavni and finally, the sari. Unstitched fabric is somehow given sacred overtones as notice people who mostly sit for pujas wearing one of the apparels mentioned above. The belief was the unstitched fabric was pure. Besides it would confer a flow to the contours of the body which would make an Indian woman, who is graceful enough, more graceful.

 The long ghunghat that the women-folk of the house have to sport as a mark of respect to the elders in the family is more like a yoke around their necks than a symbol of Indian modesty and all that.The unfortunate thing about it is that the veil is enforced by the other women of the house who should have ganged up against the men and cried a halt to this oppressive practice.

But the ghunghat has, thanks to North Indian poetry, Islamic romanticism and the imagination of hindi filmwallahs also endured as an erotic symbol. The chocolate hero lifting the ghunghat of his bride on their suhaag raat is a scene that no  respectable hindi film can be without. Looking at the downcast eyes of the bride  through the folds of a ghunghat is an ongoing erotic image that is, apparently, as much of a turn-on for the men as it for women. A prelude to the de-flowerement that is to follow, the lifting of the ghunghat builds up a sense of anticipation amongst the audience. Giggles, a shifting in the seat, a strong sense of identification with the here/heroine on scene are the subconscious effects of this scene. And it's all because of the extended bit of pallu over the head. If only it remained a romantic symbol !

And what does the modern urbanized Indian woman do when she wears the sari? Well, she doesn't just wear a sari, she wears a designer sari. The blouse is often the lateral inversion of the sari, the gap between the lower part of the blouse and the sari tucked in the waist shows as much of distracting female flesh as possible. Not that I mind. The sari is a part of power dressing for the corporate female warrior. Short hair as opposed to the bun that her traditional counterpart wears, a brief-case in one hand and a don't-mess-with-me look in the eye completes the picture.