If your wife loves to wear a saree, you are one lucky guy. Rekha loves to drape herself in a saree – she does it at least twice a week, and what a sight it is.
But there are two issues if your wife loves sarees. You are probably wondering if this is my template…appreciate my wife and then point out the flaws.
If you have spotted that, then bingo…you are smart, and RAW is looking for people like you. They need people who can identify patterns in enemy territory and Facebook posts. Go Hamza Ali Mazari, go!
First is the number of sarees they buy. Mind-boggling. And storing them is another issue – it is almost as if Rekha is the Israel of my house, and I am Palestine. When we started off together, I had 50% of the wardrobe space in my house to myself, but over the years… she has taken over most of it. And at any point in time, I only have one foot by one foot of space to keep my clothes.
Second is, of course, the blouses for their sarees. You are lucky if the blouse piece comes with the saree; then it is only a matter of finding a good tailor.
But God forbid the blouse piece doesn’t come with the saree… then your life becomes a pilgrimage. She will make you climb up and down many stores looking for that perfect colour.
And God forbid you say, “This is the same maroon,” when it isn’t. Because then, you will have to hear your version of the famous colour dialogue in the movie ‘The Devil Wears Prada’.
If you haven’t heard Miranda Priestly’s iconic “Cerulean Monologue,” you probably deserve to be scolded by your wife or girlfriend. Or any woman standing nearby.
If you think finding the right colour of blouse piece ends your troubles, you are in for a shock. Now she will go to a tailor to give her blouse piece for stitching…and I am yet to meet a tailor my wife appreciates.
And after giving every blouse for stitching, my wife will say, “I have to start looking for a new tailor…once I find someone else, only then will she realize.”
And I will want to subtly tell my wife that her tailor has a fledgling business and is probably richer than us, and one person leaving is not going to dent her life. But dare I turn into Bhagat Singh for a piece of cloth that is 80 cm long and around 115 cm wide? If you didn’t know… that’s usually the size of a blouse piece. Come on…catch up, will you?
And for some reason, women hand over their blouses for stitching to the tailor at the very last moment. Here is a standard conversation every time we go to give a blouse piece for stitching.
“Can you stitch it and give it back in four days?” Rekha will say.
“Ohh, I am so sorry…we are loaded. I will need at least ten days,” the tailor replies.
“That can’t be. I am travelling to Bangalore on 26 May…I need it at least a day before.”
“But two of my tailors are on leave…so it looks difficult,” the master tailor replies.
“Can you please do something…it’s a wedding, and I need the best blouse…that’s why I came to you.”
At this point, I will look at Rekha enquiringly because, first of all, we are NOT going to Bangalore on 26 May. And whose wedding is she talking about? But from experience, I have learnt that when I don’t know what is happening, I should remain quiet. So I stand there like a mannequin wearing old jeans.
Finally, the master tailor relents and says, “Ok fine…please come at 6 pm on the 25th and collect it.”
Rekha walks out of the shop triumphantly, and as she sits in the car and puts on the seatbelt, I wonder if I should ask about the wedding and the trip to Bangalore. Instead, I just put on a song and divert my attention. Why wrestle with a bear when you can avoid entering the forest?
And after the blouse comes, my wife will wear it and show it to me. At this moment, I can’t pass judgment immediately…I have to wait to know the mood. I only have to give my wife ten seconds…and she will give her own judgment.
“Doesn’t look that good…right?”
“Isn’t the neck slightly loose?”
“Can you check if she stitched the back right?”
These are all your cues.
If your wife looks at you for an answer before she gives you an indication of her mood…just say, “I am speechless…looking at you.”
This is a safe sentence because technically, you are telling the truth. You are speechless. Because you don’t know what to say.
Whatever happens, you are not supposed to say the blouse is not good. That’s her decision, and you have no say in it.
On the day she has to wear the saree and the blouse, as the man of the house, you have to help her out.
If you are newly married, I suggest you buy a lot of safety pins and start practicing.
Step one: learn to open and close a safety pin.
Step two: insert the sharp end into one piece of cloth and close it without stabbing yourself.
Step three: insert the sharp end through two pieces of cloth and close it without stabbing yourself or anyone nearby.
Only after you master this art are you ready to pin your wife’s saree pallu to her blouse. Remember, the pallu is the part that goes over her shoulder. Remember not to prick her in the process.
Once you complete this successfully, the next task is pleats. For this, you have to sit on the floor in front of her, gather all the pleats together, align them, press them with your palm, and keep doing it until your wife asks you to stop.
In any other context, a husband sitting on the floor in front of his wife may look romantic. During saree pleating, it is unpaid labour.
The third task is to ensure the back of her saree is not short. Ideally, her heels or sandals should be covered by the saree. For this, you will have to gently pull the saree down and make her step on it with her heel.
This is a delicate operation. One wrong move and you will either tear the saree or enter hospital records as “husband injured during textile management.”
After all of this, she will ask you to take a few photographs. You must make an effort…don’t just start taking photos. Pull the curtains apart for natural light, switch on the lights, ask her to move, and change directions.
Basically, behave like you are shooting the cover of Vogue magazine, not taking a photo near the shoe rack.
Once the photos are done, she is going to ask you, “And what are you going to wear?”
And then, you look down at yourself…you are still in your “rush into the bedroom when someone comes” T-shirt and an old, crumpled veshti.
She gives you the look…even though she knows she has hogged the bedroom, which has your wardrobe as well, for the last two hours to get ready. There is no way you could have gone in to get your clothes and get ready.
But you can’t tell her that. You are a Buddhist monk…someone who has vowed to a life of silence to maintain sanity in your life.
So you apologize for not getting ready on time, rush to the bedroom, and open your wardrobe.
In two minutes, you have put on your blue jeans and your company’s black T-shirt, and also applied some water to your hair so it seems as if you have just taken a bath.
As you are stepping out of the bedroom, you realize your face may be oily…so the right side of the face gets wiped by the black T-shirt’s right sleeve, while the other sleeve handles the rest of the face.
“Ah, the benefits of a black T-shirt,” you say to yourself.
Rekha sees me in your blue jeans and black T-shirt. But she doesn’t say anything.
After all, between the two of us, she must always be the prettier one. That was the reason I was shortlisted 25 years ago from among many suitors. Not because I was the best. But because next to me, she would always shine.