Five Meters of Fabric and a Busted Blouse

My post entitled "Does this saree make me look fat?" was misleading. I never bought a saree in Jaipur. It just had a better ring than "Does this Salwar Kameez make me look fat?" Last week, however, I made my saree debut, and you can judge whether or not five meters of fabric is flattering on me.

Sarees (or saris, like many cities in India, I'm not sure of the correct spelling, but both seem acceptable) are the dress code for the teachers at Carman School, but I am obviously exempt. The students and teachers ask me everyday when I will wear a saree. So for the annual Sports Day, I thought I'd put on the traditional Indian dress.

I enlisted the help of two of my female companions, Sapna and Premjodt, and the trip to the market was one of the most fun shopping experiences I've ever had, although my indecisive nature made choosing one difficult. Every saree is beautiful. Because of my skin tone, we ruled out colors like yellow and peach, and I vetoed an orange and blue saree because it was a little too "Rah-Rah, Go Illini" for my taste. We finally agreed upon a shimmery blue saree with gold trimming. I was fitted for a blouse and picked up the whole ensemble two days later.

The morning of sports day, I took my new digs to the dorm warden Anupama to dress me like a doll because if I did it myself, I would come out looking like a child playing dress-up with her bedsheet. After putting on the blouse and the petticoat, Anu started wrapping. And wrapping. And wrapping. She took the excess and folded it accordian style several times to form pleats and tucked the top into the petticoat just below my navel. Then she swept the remainder diagonally across my torso, letting some drape elegantly down my back. Two safety pins and some bangles from Jaipur completed the look. The dressing process took about eight minutes.

I walked into the dining hall trying not to rip the front of my saree or fall and break my nose. The children all looked at me wide-eyed with smiles and almost choked on their eggs. I felt a little like a a mermaid because of the shiny blue color and the restricting lines, but I got used to it after awhile, except for the blouse. It was too small, meaning I either gained ten pounds in two days or the tailor messed up. I'm going with the latter because I don't think my meals of rice and dal add much weight. Even though I could only close three of the four clasps, I managed, breathing ever so slightly, until mid-morning when I let out of sneeze so violent that it not only popped the second to last button, but ripped the string that formed the hook for the clasp. Fortunately, the saree covered all the vital parts.

I received lots of complements on how well I wore the saree and was encouraged to buy more in order to wear one everyday. I'll admit, I took a few moments to admire myself in the mirror before I relunctantly took it off that afternoon. As temptingly beautiful as all the sarees are, I think I'll stick with one because I don't know what I would do with them back in the States. They'd probably be turned into glorified table runners.