I am so saree

I bought a saree today. I have been putting it off and I am not sure why. For some reason, I have been keeping the whole process at a hand's distance away. This may be more of a stream of consciousness, rather than collective thoughts but I am going to try my fingers at some internal processing through the keyboard.


The saree is a very traditional dress for Indian women. It is worn when attending a wedding or formal event (the more glitter and bling the better) and some women wear more casual ones every day. I know that teachers in Indian schools are expected to wear them and also flight attendants with a particular airline.

This picture depicts what I hoped the experience would be like, but reality whispered to me that it would be different. Some of the questions running through my head were.....what do you do with all that material? how many pieces are involved? why is is okay to show your stomach in this culture when wearing a saree?(the blouse part under would be considered a mid-drift top) what do you wear under it? how do you put it on?  how much do they cost? where do I go buy one? am I going to get ridiculously ripped off?(that one is a given most of the time) what is the process? does it involve going to a tailor? and on and on.

Seth and I have been invited to a wedding, so this was the time. After language class yesterday, we went to a market near our house and were going to make it happen. I really had to work myself up to it, which didn't really make sense to me. People do this all the time. It should be fun to go shopping for a nice outfit. Well, when you are comfortable in your surroundings, know the language, and the system of doing things, this would be true. But alas, we live in India. Need I say more??

Back to yesterday. We found a shop that had "saree" in the name and we thought that a good sign. There were a few mannequins outside the store with pretty sarees on them.  We walked down about three steps to enter the store. A gentleman opened the door for us and I took a deep breath. The store was about the size of a smallish bedroom. There were shelves on three walls that went up about 6 feet high. On the shelves were bundles of sarees all in individual plastic wrapping. There must have been thousands of them packed into this small store. There was a man sitting at a desk immediately to the right as we walked in and there was a wooden platform about 2 feet off the ground that ran the length of the store. On the platform was mattresses with white sheets on the them and benches for the customers next to them. There were about 6 salesmen sitting cross-legged (I dare not use the other term :P) on the mattresses. There was not a woman in sight, which is odd but quite common in the shops.  Needless to say, we were the center of attention and the only customers. We told them what we were looking for (our language teachers gave us some useful phrases in class that morning) and they told us to take a seat on a bench. One man asked how much I wanted to spend and then another man started bringing several packages over to where we were. I really wanted to get up myself and look through the stacks (which Seth eventually did and I am pretty sure that was a major cultural feaux pas), but I kept my seat and said yes or no with each one that he brought out. Part of the problem was that I really didn't know what I was wanting. There were a gagillion choices and I am still not convinced that I am the sari type. Although, I am realizing that what I think I am or am not is sometimes completely irrelevant.

I narrowed it down  to a few possibilities and then it was time to try them on. I stood up and another man put a velcro strap around my waist. He began folding the yards and yards of material in a fan-like pattern and tucked and pulled and wrapped until it was all draped around me. Apparently part of the big piece of material is cut off to make the blouse and then a petticoat of some kind goes under everything. It is all very complicated and I never thought I would say this, but I miss the days of wearing a panya in West Africa. But that is another story. 

After I made my choice (which could have potentially taken hours), we paid for the saree and a man walked us over to where the store's tailor was. There I choose the neckline and sleeves on the blouse and he took all sorts of measurements. I will pick it up later this weekend. Then I went further into the market to buy matching bangles, which is a necessity when wearing a saree, or so I am told. This was a much less overwhelming experience and I am all about the bangles. We had a very interesting spiritual conversation with that shopkeeper and look forward to continuing to interact with him. I think that is my new go-to place for bangles (if anyone wants to come visit).

I have been trying to discern why this was such a big deal for me and I am realizing that it is not necessarily about the saree. It is more about what it represents, I think. It represents the culture here. I am putting on part of the culture when I put on a saree. How much of my own known, comfortable, and easy culture do I have to take off in order to put on a saree? I can't be carrying around too much culture because it is quickly getting hot here :)  Seriously, this is a foreign place and it feels foreign in so many ways. I am realizing how much I like the picture of who I am and what I represent back in the States, and now I have thrown a basket of all those things up in the air and they are slowly falling. Some things will make it into the basket and some will not. New things need to be put into the basket and some things that were in there have risen to the top of the basket.  I am continually thankful for a God who knows me, who made me, and who loves me.