“You young women are so stupid,” said the old crone.
She sat under a tree in the outskirts of Kanchi. Frogs frolicked around a nearby pond where pink lotuses grew. The old woman was sitting under a banyan tree, clad simply in a saree. No blouse
“It is hard enough bandaging yourself in a blouse and petticoat. You people wear cylinder-like tight jeans that will stop your circulation,” she said.
Thankfully, I wasn’t in tight jeans.
“The way to wear a saree is just by itself,” she said. “Like me. No underwear. No bra. Just soft fabric against your skin.”
I smiled. “Try doing that in Bangalore, Mumbai or Delhi, Paati (grandma),” I said. “They will run you off the streets.”
But I couldn’t forget the thought.
At the risk of sounding risque, why not try it? Just the saree. Sans blouse, sans petticoat, sans everything. Try it and you will see what the old crone means. It is luxurious and perfect for India’s hot weather.