I am exhausted. I don’t feel well. My lead guy in India told me to take a long lunch and go rejuvenate myself on Commercial Street. (He’s practically a newlywed and therefore still appreciates that the way to soothe an ill woman is to send her shopping.) It was a good idea; I had an errand to run to get some alterations done to a dress I had made on Sunday… so I grabbed my friend (the Shopping Diva) who needed to pick up some glass bangles for her upcoming wedding, and off we went.
To set this up, I have to explain that one of the things I had to get used to when I first started visiting this wonderful country is that in some settings there is no sense of personal space. It’s crowded – plus, the nature of people here is very collaborative, so there are lots of huddles for discussions. I repeat: no personal space. And when you go ‘out’ into the world (outside my safe little office), that condition is magnified. Shopping lanes are congested beyond description; people hover over each other’s shoulders to get a look at the goods in a space about two meters wide; you get the picture. On another note, but related to the story I’m about to share, is that although the country is highly religious… the sheer nature of the heat dictates that sleeveless tops, light/sheer fabrics, and open necklines are a fashion necessity for all but the orthodox-level conservative Muslims who dress in their dark wraps from head to toe regardless of the climate. Given all this, I didn’t consider India an overly-conservative environment on the modesty scale.
So… I had a dress made on Sunday but was unable to try it on before I left the tailor. Sure enough, when I got back to the hotel, the thing hung on me like a big sack and I wanted it to be a bit more fitted. The reason I didn’t try the dress on earlier is that the tailor shop didn’t have a fitting room. The shop is literally two rooms open to each other (no doors) – with sewing machines on one side and the handwork being done on the other (oh, and with a counter spanning the middle for cutting the fabrics, transacting business, eating lunch, etc. – no wasted space, here). So I had planned for this… I dressed for the day in a tank shirt and jacket with a pair of loose elastic-waist pants – knowing that I could remove the jacket, slip the dress over my head, slide the pants down, and basically make a change of clothes without ever really exposing myself. Or so I thought.
So we arrived at the tailor. I explained my requirement (tuck the dress a little tighter) and stepped into the less occupied of the two rooms. The tailor followed me, which was fine – remember ‘no personal space’, so I had anticipated this… and I had a plan. I slipped off the jacket… dress over the head… started tugging at my pants… and then the excitement started! He turned pale and started speaking excitedly in Hindi (or Kanada?) to my friend. There was a loud exchange of words… I really didn’t notice too much – I was just trying to get my pants off over my shoes in a room not more than 7×7 now holding three people (two people too many, IMHO). Apparently he was telling my friend to tell me to ‘get my pants back on’… And she was trying to explain the concept of a dress and that I wouldn’t be wearing pants under a dress. This is a summer dress with the hemline hitting just below the knee… but in India, it could easily be mistaken for the long kirtis they wear. Theirs has a really deep side slit up to the hip and they wear it with what we would call leggings (pants made of lightweight material, worn very tight and scrunched up along the leg). But what I was wearing thoroughly covered me (by my standards) – all the way down to both knees. But clearly this was enough to raise a complete panic with the tailor.
So anyway, this poor man thinks I have just shed my last ounce of modesty. My friend is trying to explain ‘it’s a DRESS’ – and tells him to just take the measurements. He is pale and oh-so-very off kilter. Poor thing, his wife was probably on the way with his lunch – and to him, I couldn’t “get dressed” quickly enough!
Of course, I was petrified when I learned what had transpired. I’m painfully modest about my body, so to think that I embarrassed this guy confused me a little. But the more I thought about it, the funnier I thought it was. My friend told me that he was in quite a state of panic… But, we got the job done. And I’ve learned another lesson in India: never ever drop your trousers. J