Ah yes - the joys of the saree. Mavelikara is a very conservative town and expects its women, domestic and foreign, to be modest and respectable at all times. Unmarried girls wear the Salwar Kameez, or Churidar as they call it here; a long, loose top complete with shawl and interesting trousering. Married or older women wear the Saree: six metres of fabric worn with a short, tight blouse and long petticoat.
My attempts to dress myself in the Saree have so far failed dismally. Luckily, I have Saju on hand to put me together. Saju lives downstairs and used to work as a beautician until she developed a skin disease. She speaks a bit of English and has endless patience with my attempts to fit in with Indian culture. She is the mistress of the safety pin, many of which are employed in Saree wearing. By the end of the procedure, my face is dripping with sweat (Saju turns off the ceiling fan to stop the Saree blowing all over the place), and I feel like a trussed up chicken. Saju and her sister are too shy to have the photos taken yet, but Mama was happy to pose for one, so here we are together.
While the womenfolk take hours over their hair and dress, and are the models of feminine respectability, most men just sling on a dhoti. If you want to get a picture of what the dhoti looks like, imagine a large white tea towel wrapped around the waist and falling to the ankles. Now imagine said white tea towel pulled up, nappy-like, between the legs. Not a pretty sight, and it makes me wonder why the women go to so much trouble when that's all they get in return.
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