Dhoti is the ideal dress for Indian men for any function. Yeah, if you wear dhoti, you’ll feel home in the banquet hall of a function hosted by people you have never met.
I’ve been to many functions like that. The only familiar face in the whole function hall would be my father’s face. OK OK, I’m just kidding. My brother usually joins us too.
One good thing about dhoti is that you never grow out of your dhoti. It doesn’t matter which size your hip is, you can wear the same dhoti. If you wear dhoti, you’ll realize you’re becoming fat only when the fabric store worker asks you the question, “Is one dhoti enough, sir?”
Life is mysterious. You may know that the answer to life universe and everything is 42. Sometimes the answer is same for the embarrassing question that the fabric store worker asks, “what’s your hip size, sir?”
I have worn dhoti only once in my whole life. I didn’t like wearing it. The neighborhood dogs didn’t either.
For our house warming function, I was forced to wear dhoti.
My mom shouted, “I’ve kept the silk dhoti in your room. Take bath and wear that da.”
“Mom, I can’t wear that. I just had a dream in which a dog chased me for 3 kms and then finally pulled my dhoti in front of everyone.”
“Don’t worry da. Dreams are exact opposite of reality.”
“Exact opposite? You mean to say that the dog will pull my dhoti first and then chase for 3 kms?”
I have no idea how to wear dhoti properly. It never stays in my hip. For me, wearing dhoti is very very simple… way to get embarrassed. If I were born in the 17th century, I would have discovered law of gravity before Newton did. With the help of ever-falling dhoti.
My brother supported my mom and said to me, “wear the dhoti or come naked.”
“What’s the difference?” I asked.
I was left with no option other than wearing dhoti. But I didn’t want to mess the new silk dhoti. So I was looking for an old dhoti to practice wearing. I went into one of the rooms and found an old dhoti. When I tried to pick that one, my cousin, who was sleeping on the cot, started yelling, “why the heck are you pulling down my dhoti?”
“To try, of course.”
“Whaaat!!! Are you mad? Why don’t you try your own dhoti?”
“How much I can contribute on my own? I am already trying it on my own body.”
“%$£^&!!!!!! whaattt the… &*(¬`}”
“Don’t worry. Go to sleep. You’ll be wearing armor in your dreams. Because dreams are exact opposite of reality.”
I practiced wearing that dhoti for quite some time. It fell very worse than the Indian Rupee. Somehow I managed to learn a technique called “keep-your-hands-always-at-your-hip”.
Finally, I took bath and went into my room to find the new dresses. I found a new boxer-brief-model underwear along with the silk dhoti. I normally don’t wear boxer briefs.
“Mom, who bought this underwear?”
“Dad only da.”
“Dad, You know that I don’t wear this model, no? OK, anyway, I’ll try one of my old underwear.”
Forget the answer to life, universe and everything. I don’t even know the answer to the question “why my cousin ran away when he heard me saying ‘I will try one of the old underwear’.”
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Note: It’s a part of the “House Warm(n)ing Function” series. If you wish to read the other posts in this series, the index is here.