In India, all over India, there are certain outwardly symbols worn by a woman to express to the world that she is married. The sari just so happens to be one of the more recognizable representations of marriage.
From the very first day we arrived in India (no exaggeration, an hour after arriving at our apartment from the airport), I have asked the women who work with us on a daily basis as translators if they could assist me in purchasing some saris. For weeks it just wasn’t happening; they were busy, I was busy, I was tired, they were busy, etc.
Finally an occasion arose in which I would need a sari. We were invited to a Hindu wedding. We only had four days until the wedding, and the blouse for the sari would still need to be made by the tailor, so in a desperate attempt to finish the task of shopping for an outfit suitable for a Hindu wedding, Collin and I went to the local super-mall, CMR Central. We surveyed the stores, compared prices, and finally settled on two beautiful saris. They were inexpensive compared to the other store, but still expensive by local standards. The total for both came to roughly 30 USD.
Excited about my purchases, I showed the women at the program house as we waited for the tailor to come by to take my measurements for the blouse. I pulled out the first one: rich mahogany red and saffron yellow trimmed with gold brocade. There were ooo’s and aaa’s and of course, how much? Then I pulled out the second sari, which I was most proud of, and even more excited gasps and inhalations were heard. The sari was stark white with the same mahogany as the first one, but with blue threads and tassels dangling off the edge of the gold trimmed fabric. The women talked among themselves in elevated, excited Telugu. Then they turned to me and said, “Yes, very nice, very beautiful.” I was happy to hear their approval but then my ears heard a most uncomfortable sentence, “This is a bride’s sari.” Immediate embarrassment filled me and I hurriedly asked questions such as, “I thought white wasn’t associated with marriage here?” “Are you sure this is a bride’s sari?” “Would it be bad if I wore this to the wedding?” Questions flooded out, and answers followed, which almost all but calmed my nerves until one of the women said, “Yes, this is nice, you can wear it, but…it is the first night sari.” She whispered this last bit to me, and my embarrassment came back full force. Nervously I told them that I will just return it, no big deal, it will only be humiliating wearing it now that I know what it represents.
They just as quickly tried to calm me down once more promising and pleading with me to listen to them that I can wear this, but had I worn such a thing to a Hindu wedding five years ago, it would be utterly humiliating. I took their promises, and the next day the blouse was ready, and so was I. I was going to wear a beautiful white sari to a Hindu wedding.
The day of the wedding came, and all the girls in the program were being helped by the women in getting their saris wrapped. Then it was my turn. Lakshmi and Rama were my sari wrapping assistants, and they were so enthused that all of us were wearing saris. They turned me this way, and shifted me that way to get the folds of the fabric just right. I told them that I am glad they are helping me out, otherwise I could never do this on my own. Rama looks up at me from her kneeled position on the floor and with safety pins in her hands and asks, “Your mother does not teach you to wear sari?!” I smile, shake my head and tell her no. “And your sister? She does not wear sari?” Again my answer is no. Poor Rama seemed so confused by my mother’s and sister’s lack of teaching me such a vital thing that she asked once more to make sure I understood her correctly. “So, your mother and sister do not wear sari, and they do not teach you? How will you learn to wear sari if they do not teach you?” I couldn’t help it, my smile turned to laughter and they joined in. I told them through my smiling lips that we do not wear saris in America, but I will try to learn how to wrap my own while I am still in India. This answer seemed to satisfy them.
Another indicator of marriage is a toe ring. I’m not sure if this is the same for all of India, but it certainly is the case in south India. Only a ring on the left second toe is required, but I have seen women with all their toes adorned. I picked out a set of toe rings thinking this would satiate the curiosity of locals as to whether I was married or not. In one case it just brought about further confusion and a lot of questions.
Collin and I stopped by at a deaf school that is just down the street from us. We went to get acquainted with the administrators so we would be recognized when we go to play with the children. After a very welcoming tour of all the classes, we sat in one of the offices were many of the teachers were. They talked with us for quite some time, nearly two hours, and the base of the conversation was how I lacked the proper adornment to indicate being married. There were three women present and they all talked over each other to tell me what I need to get after seeing I only had the toe rings on. “You need bhutu,” which is the red dot, or bhindi on the forehead. “Where are your bangles? Gold?” I had to assure them I had bought some, but they were at home. “Your braids? You need only one.” This was slightly more embarrassing because for some reason or another I had done my hair in two braids that day, something I haven’t done for years. “Your necklaces? You need one like this, and this one. See? There are two for husband family and for wife family.” When she talked of the husband’s and wife’s families, these were indicated on the same necklace with two medallions. The other necklace had black beads. They were very adamant that Collin promise them he would buy me these proper necklaces, after all, it is his responsibility to show I am married. And of course, the issue with the sari came up again.
So many things to do and to remember that I’ll be quite glad when all it will take again to indicate I am married is my diamond ring on my left hand.
Luckily for men in India, there is no show about whether he is married or not.
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