The 'Cameo' Wardrobe Of An Indian Bahu

It's spring cleaning time! Unfortunately for me, as a desi 'bahu', I find that my wardrobe features piles and piles of *'cameo' clothes that nearly consume all of my prized wardrobe space.

*Cameo clothes: Ask any denim-clad girl  turned desi bahu married in a conservative family and she'll tell you what these are. Well, in most traditional families, Indian daughters-in-law are the epitome of self-restraint, modesty and dignity so they're expected to dress in traditional Indian attire when visiting in-laws, extended families and for events requiring some level of propriety on their part, such as religious ceremonies, festivals, sometimes even cocktail parties that have an older set of crowd. Think salwar kameezes and anarkalis with long-flowing dupattas, and ofcourse, sarees.

So as it happens, these clothes, that I perfectly overlook when I'm by myself, to my sudden realization, are hoarding most of my wardrobe space.  I mean I could have a litter of new-born pups discretely living among my cameo clothes and I wouldn't know, unless of course they decide to gnaw on them and break free. (I've considered bribing them with dog-candy to do that.) I'd love to pare down my wardrobe to only things that I actually want to wear. Read denims, pjs, loose pants and striped tees and the occasional maxi-dress. But for "keeping up appearances", I find that my closet is stuffed to the brim with clothes that I hardly care about in my regular life as a city-dwelling wife. Clothes that don't make my heart flutter, clothes without a soul - in the sense that they don't really represent me. And on speaking to some other friends in my block who live with their in-laws or occasionally visit their sasural, I gather that this is a wardrobe crisis of nearly every bahu trying to condition her wardrobe to the sensibilities of others.

Don't get me wrong. I don't look down upon traditional clothes. I love them!  I absolutely dig occasionally bringing my desi swag to the surface with vibrant Indian fabrics, bindis, jhumkas and all things that go clink-clink and bling-bling. I think we're blessed to have such a diverse wardrobe - we can go perfectly unrecognizable and glamorous in a matter of minutes (well give or take an hour for a saree) with our flowy and feminine, curve-enhancing desi silhouettes. And they do come in handy for days when you 're looking to make a red carpet appearance without breaking your wallet. Just slip into a ravishing georgette saree with a scandalous blouse et voila! So no. I'm not anti-desi.

Here is the thing. As much as I'd love to wear traditional attire on special occasions and religious days, perhaps not so much on others. I'm a hardcore city girl — in spirit and by domicile. Pre-wedding, I lived in a world where nobody really gave a damn about how I dressed, how much skin I showed or whether what I wore was asking for too much attention. Pretty much figured it out for myself, based on how I could spend the day without feeling — well —like I'm trying to be somebody else. I was never too comfortable showing a lot of skin but on really good beachy days, I'd forget all my awkward loose-shirt clad existence and revel in the sun. The point is it hardly mattered to me whichever way. Comfort in my own skin was of essence.

Now, I know I'm a married woman and I believe that it is of utmost importance that I should make the effort to appear to be so with my bindis and toe-rings and red bangles in an appropriate "Mrs -so-and-so" dress code to be taken seriously as a member of my new family and for the sake of domestic bliss. And hey, if you're looking for a rational explanation, well let us give you scientific evidence that wearing a bindi has its perks! As much as I don't get it, I'm not a big fan of raising conflicts, so yea whatever.

But, but ....just consider these everyday situations from your domestic life really... maybe from a practical point of view or just for the joy of aesthetics...I mean would you really consider wearing a "proper Indian attire" in these situations:

1. Juggling tasks in the kitchen, running helter-skelter to mind the simmering dal and bursting-with-joy, fluffy rotis on a pan and also moving heavy-bottomed pans from one nook of your over-crowded kitchen platform to another. Do you really want to add a trail of annoying fabric that could potentially catch fire to that equation?

2. Rocking your baby to sleep - moving from one end of the room to the other. Singing rock-a-bye-baby... and pulling your slipping dupatta up with every swing.

3. Grocery-shopping - balancing the weight of a multitude of shopping bags with your body weight...and minding that your dupatta/pallu end doesn't get entangled among them.

4. Walking your dog, running after him, clearing his poop...and hoping that he/she doesn't take off with your dupatta, leaving behind "your modesty unguarded".

5. Going to a cocktail party with your elders - a beautiful garden party with spirits flowing and casual banter and progressive dinner conversations, but wondering how to balance the delicate art of appearing too modern and too regressive both through choice of wardrobe and beverage.... and yet again having to manage the slipping dupatta or pallu.

Swinging between the nuclear family set-up and extended vacations with the in-laws feels a bit too much like Sita and Gita to me. It kind of makes me wonder, "Am I losing the real me in the change-up?" Am I trying too hard to fit in one role at a time that in the process, I'm forgetting who I really am and how inconsequential my choice of wardrobe has been to me up until now?

Before I get labelled as neo-progressive or pseudo-feminist, at this point, let me just go ahead and say this. I don't look down upon women who choose to be firmly rooted to a traditional attire and matching jewelry and clinking bangles, and sindoor on the forehead. I used to be mesmerized by them as a kid. But when I look at myself in the mirror in the same attire, I don't see them. I see a stranger. I see someone so uncomfortable in her newly-found definition of femininity that she can't wait to peel the bangles of her hand before going to bed at night. I see someone cribbing and getting stubbed by the pointy edges of her toe-rings in her sneakers, and wondering what purpose they serve hidden as they are in closed shoes. I see a hypocrite who can't wait to go back to her denims and striped tees to feel herself again.

And it turns out that this is a wardrobe crisis of a generation of bahus caught in the crossfire between looking back at the modest choices of role-model bahus from the entire clan and looking forward, hoping to redefine the rules for the generations to come.

I don't know how to conclude this piece. I don't know if there is a rational way to address this identity crisis that I find myself in. But I'll leave you with a thought. Something that one of my aunts told me as piece of wisdom before I got married.

However heavy the weight of the six-yard silk may feel on you, the only way you will survive through it is to make light of it.

And while you're doing that, all you can do is wait until you get back to your room in the comfort of your PJs and totally live it up in your own skin for that moment. Thank God for closed doors :).