Kurti Kudi

This post is actually a continuation of the previous one of mine and the culmination of the self-indulgent behaviour that i am indulging in.(But seriously,when one is deprived of ideas to write on and extraneous forces compel, coax and cajole to write something for the sake of keeping up appearances of the blog, then where can one best turn to, if not the Self?) So for those who didn't like the previous post or follow the statement in parenthesis, I assure you to go no further than this fullstop because the rest of the blog is equally obscure.

Now, that I have made my point that I know nothing about fashion,I also do admit that I simply love Kurtas and Kurtis( which have, according to my cousin N, gone out of fashion. But, then, who really cares?). I wear kurtas everywhere, be it to college, outings or even parties!This is safely vouched by my ward robe which is literally overflowing with kurtas of all hues and prints. At last count, there were 33 kurtas and 21 Kurtis in all to grace my wardrobe and plans are obviously afoot for the acquisition of more. And these Kurtas are not really very different from one another nor can they be termed as landmarks in fashion. In fact, according to my friends, each one looks suspiciously like the other in the same earthen shades of reds, greens, mustards, dark blues, browns and blacks. (Mind you, no pinks and pastels and the colour of the season is mint. Oh well!)

So what makes me wear these kurtas day in and out and bore everyone trying to make them see the subtle differences in the textiles, the prints and the patterns and then generally getting put-off when friends, having failed to see what's so different about each Kurti and exclaim,
" Hey Ananya, tere sab kapde ek jaise hi dikhte hain" . And it is just not the girls, guys too. My batch-mates have been weaned off the novelty of seeing me in kurtas and now none of them take kindly to my friendly advice on how guys should not be wearing pastel and flowery prints shirts on birthdays. K once told me. " Ananya, tu hamesha aise kapde kyun pehenti hain?" Hello, I am just wearing Kurtis and not Kimonos was my affronted reply!

It is so convenient to blame everything on your genes and I wouldn't be wrong if I admit that genesis of my kurti-kooching is my wonderful Mother, who is perennially dressed up in cottons and handlooms and who has been dragging me to all expos and exhibhitions ever-since I was knee -high. It is sheer delight to see her point the differnces between the fakes and the originals and to hear her expound on the ikats and the saptapars, the chikans and the kanthas, the chanderis and the kalamkaris... She has made me fall in love with the coarseness of the khadi, the magic of the mulmuls, the cottons of Orissa, the weaves of the North-east and the mugas of Assam. So now, I too can do a decent job of knowing the different cottons, the silks and the 'mixs' simply by sight and feel, though one can never really match up to a connoussier. I, too, can now identify which state a cloth has come from simply by a look. Now this is not what one would term as being fashionable but then each one to her own. At least by wearing these kurtas, I along with my Mom are getting a chance to indirectly help the silent, hidden weavers of India, the sole and the slowly dying-out guardians of India's rich heritage in textiles.

So now, I rest my case and the next time anybody complains as to why I am dressed up in an 'auntyji-type Kurta again, you know where I am going to direct that doubting dodo to!

P.S. I must admit that wearing Kurtas is not at all as hunky-dory as it seems... the high-maintenance and the innumerable starching and the ironing is really a pain...but then again I have my venerable Ma to do the honours!