The Odisha Pants drape

There are more than 200 drapes worn across India. Each drape is unique, creative and functional for those who wear it. In a series of posts, Nikaytaa will be sharing videos and demystifying the drapes she wears. In this post, she will speak about her love for the Pants drape especially the Odisha dancer drape.

The dancer drape from Odisha is versatile, functional, and comfortable. It is a super practical drape for someone who is on the run. It is simple to wear, easy to carry off, and adaptable. With one change in the draping of the pallu it becomes a dress, a halter, and a gown.

History of the pants drape

People across India wear the pants drape albeit with some variations. It is worn by those who need to perform a range of functions such as riding, swimming, walking, and running. For example, the dancers of Odisha wear the Sari as pants assisting big strides across the stage.

Rani Lakshmibai wore a Sari while riding a horse and fighting the British army. The Koli fisherwomen of coastal Maharashtra wear the pants as shorts. They fish in the ocean, walk across the beach soaking wet, and squat in the marketplace to sell the fish: all in a day’s work. Maharashtrian women, mostly brahmin, wear the Navvari drape. The Dhangad drape (below) is worn by the farmers of Savantwadi. The farmer in the picture below shared that the shorts allowed her to squat and work with ease all day. She pees with dignity while in the field and manoeuvres the cattle with efficiency.

Where and how do you wear the Odissi pants drape?

Nikaytaa wears the Odisha pants drape for work especially on days she has to be on her feet or ride a bike. She also wears the pants as evening wear where she drapes the pallu around her neck as a scarf. At times, she has also twisted her pallu like a rope and draped it around her waist like a rope belt. One can choose to hang the end of the pallu by your waist or tuck it in. Both expressions are super classy and fun. Nikaytaa also loves wearing a version of this drape during her 10K practice runs and will be wearing it on race day this weekend!

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Dhoti drape with pallu as a scarf. Photo: Baishampayan Ghose

What Sari does this drape demand?

Nikaytaa prefers wearing a handloom Sari for the comfort and thickness of the material. She does not wear a pair of tights inside the drape and thus prefers the opacity the handloom provides. “The handloom drapes better than a power loom Sari”, she quips. In the feature photo of this post, she is wearing a handloom Maheshwari from TheLoomSaree. The Sari in the video below is one of her favourites. It is a handloom Sari from Tamil Nadu sourced from GoCoop.

The original Odisha pants drape needs a Sari of 5 or 6 meters in length. This is not a hard and fast rule. The length required can vary according to your height and girth. Those who are tall and/ or voluptuous might need a 7 or 8 meter Sari. It is suggested one tries different lengths to find their perfect fit.

There are many variations of the pants drape. The Maharashtrian Navvari and Konkani Koli fisherwoman shorts need a 9 meter Sari. The Madhava Kacche requires an 8 meter Sari.

Dhangad drape
Savantwadi farmer in Dhangad drape. Photo: Baishampayan Ghose

How does one go to the toilet in this drape?

As you’ll see in the video, the two separate portions wrap on each leg and tuck at the waist. The Sari has two separates that join at the pelvis area: one from the left leg and one from the right leg. When you need to visit the toilet, part the two sides and squat. This is possible only when you are not wearing a pair of tights inside. Once you get the hang of it, you will be able to take a dump in this drape as well. In case you are wearing tights, there is no resort other than to disassemble the whole drape.

Nikaytaa has gone to pee wearing this drape and she didn’t have any accident; in case you were wondering. On the contrary, she says she felt happy that the Sari covered her skin. She felt relieved knowing she wouldn’t contract a UTI from the loo.

How is it worn?

Watch the video below!

Are you now feeling confident of wearing and carrying off the Odisha pants drape? Do try it and feel the exuberance hidden in the weaves of the Sari. Use the hashtag #TheIndianDrapingCo when sharing on social media. Feel free to leave comments on this post. Do share your experience with this drape or simply say “hello”!

 

The value of treating people as people

Feminism: The radical notion that women are people.

I started teaching draping and conducting workshops with the intention of making an impact on people’s minds by opening them up to the possibilities of the Sari. My intention is to allow people to experience freedom for themselves.

Freedom from matching petticoats.
Freedom from having to conform to a standard expectation of gender and clothing.
Freedom from body shaming.
Freedom to understand self and express fluid self-identity.
Freedom from man-made fabrics such as polyester, which does nothing for the self, environment and culture.
Freedom from too many clothes & capitalism.

However, since I have started on this journey, I find that some people think my art and knowledge is tradable for money. Just because I can drape, doesn’t mean I will do it anytime anywhere on demand. Just as I am not a programmer because I am good at math or logic. And I am not a doctor or scientist just because I am good at science.

Don’t get me wrong. I do drape my friends and have even randomly draped people I have just met. But I do that because they are enthusiastic. I do that because they are excited to learn. And most of all, I do that because they respect me and more importantly, art & knowledge. There is nothing wrong with being a professional draper who drapes you for a wedding in exchange for money.

But. I don’t do that. At least not yet. I might someday if I feel that that is a necessary and logical next step for me to achieve the impact I’m seeking (above) but not yet. Not today.
Today I believe in teaching a person how to fish and not in giving them the fish. I will teach you if you are enthusiastic and respectful. And will certainly drape if you say please. But not otherwise or by demanding.

So women & men & people: It is easy for one to read a definition of feminism but it takes a lot to understand what that means. Treat me like a person and you will be rewarded. Treat me like someone whose art is tradable for money, gifts & favours and you will be disappointed.

*Takes a bow*

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People are beautiful. Photo: Baishampayan Ghose

 

Sari Dress Tent: The Foreword

In May 2018, I collaborated with Bay Area artists Robin Lasser and Adrienne Pao for the art installation “Sari Dress Tent“. The 13-feet tall tent with a 12- foot circumference was commissioned by the Asian Art Museum and Livable City, San Francisco. The dress tent was accessible to the public on 6th May and 23rd September 2018 at the Asian Art Museum. A book titled “Sari Dress Tent” was published by artists Robin and Adrienne articulating their vision, the creative journey and the interviews conducted. I was requested to write a foreword for the Sari Dress Tent book made available for public viewing and purchase.

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Sari Dress Tent, San Francisco May 2018.

The Sari has fascinated me since childhood. As a five-year-old, I would see my mother wearing the Sari every day and going about her work. I would imitate her Nivi drape and role-play being a teacher or a librarian (that’s what the women in the profession would wear back in 1988).  The Nivi drape is the popular drape worn today by millions of women across the Indian subcontinent. This drape requires a blouse and an underskirt called a petticoat. It drapes like a skirt with pleats in the front and the “pallu” or outer-end of the Sari going over the left shoulder.

Nivi drape
Nivi drape. Photo: Baishampayan Ghose

With the birth of my brother and simultaneous globalization in India in 1990, I soon began seeing my mother and people adopt the “modern Salwar Kameez”. The reasons ranged from ‘the Sari is cumbersome to wear with the kids’ to ‘the underskirt needs to be fitted’. In hindsight, this would be the first sign that the rules around wearing the Sari were catching up.

I began now to view the Sari as a love that I had to work for. It was rewarding but yet intensive. A year ago, I learnt that the underskirt I so deeply despised was a recent introduction to the Sari trousseau. It was created in 1906 when an Indian renaissance woman, belonging to the upper echelons of society, was denied entry to a Bombay Club citing her revealing shoulders and translucent legs as blasphemy to the club’s Victorian moral conduct. It was then that the Indian rich bourgeois introduced the underskirt, called the petticoat and the humble blouse; both English words with no synonym in the Hindi dictionary.

Learning this, I began wearing the Sari sans the underskirt; just as my ancestors in pre-British India would wear. The unstitched fabric of 5 yards could become anything I needed it to be. It could become a pair of pants like the dancers of Odisha or a pair of shorts like the Goan fisherwomen. Or I could take inspiration from the farmlands of West Bengal and wear the short gown dress as the women there do. I tap into the design etiquette of the agricultural women of Andhra Pradesh who would wear their Sari as functional, aesthetic dresses.

Dhangad drape
Savantwadi farmer in Dhangad drape. Photo: Baishampayan Ghose

I discarded the petticoat and with it the knowledge of the Sari as I’d learnt from the society around me. I experimented and tapped into the knowledge of my ancestors to experience the freedom they’d felt working and living in decolonized India. Both the women and men wore the unstitched as a garment of choice. The ubiquitous cotton made the use of handloom prevalent amongst the masses which further ensured livelihoods for cotton farmers, thread spinners and dyers, and weavers. The handloom material also worked well with the climate of the region. The ancestors knew well how to work with nature than against it.

I adopted handloom as a way of life last September when I moved to hot and humid Goa for two months. I discarded my jeans and other figure-hugging dresses for the comfort of the pure organic cotton handwoven Sari. The natural dye colours ensured the well-being of my skin while the handloom kept me cool and energetic.

 

Matka silk block-printed Sari draped in two ways.

I am a minimalist and the two months allowed me to live the small suitcase life I’d always imagined but never lived. I tended to stick to a few favourite Saris and regularly recycled them into various garments as the need arose. I have, on record, worn the same Sari for three consecutive days amidst the same audience albeit in three different ways. The same Sari became a pair of pants one day and a skirt the next and a dress the day after that.  The same Sari also served me well as a sarong, bedsheet, towel, and dress for the days at the beach!

Ṛta Kapur Chishti, a renowned Sari historian and a textile scholar, has documented a 108 ways to wear a Sari in her book “Saris of India” that was put together after a decade of travelling across thirteen states in India. Chantal Boulanger, a French anthropologist, devoted much of her time between 1980 and 1996 to travel throughout the south, central and eastern India. She has researched 100 different styles of draping the Sari documented in her book “Saris: An Illustrated Guide to the Indian Art of Draping”.

It is imperative to state that the majority of the Indian subcontinent and the world are not aware of this research and thus the dominant culture of the past. It’s fascinating that the culture and the stories of a country can change so much so that even the historical narratives seem to fade into oblivion.

The colonization of the Indian culture through the Sari, an intrinsic garment of choice then led me to understand the colonization of gender. Till now what had been a binary for me began to emerge as a spectrum with some women opting for “masculine” looks while some men felt more comfortable in a “feminine” drape. The use of quotes is to highlight the prevalent stereotyping of gender in an everyday construct. Thus, I started questioning, “What is gender?” “What is feminine? What is masculine?” And what is “being human”? Gender is personal and the personal is political. Hence the gender is political and so is the fluid spectrum of clothes and visual identities.

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Gender fluid fashion. Photo: Shazia Shaikh

In the global society, today more than ever, women from the Indian subcontinent are asserting themselves and wearing the Sari with pride and identity. More and more women of colour globally are now questioning the colonized, global society and its narratives and asserting their individuality through the clothes; whether it be the Hijab or the Turban or the Sari.

The Sari tent by Robin Lasser and Adrienne Pao is a step in the direction of dialogue amidst the political climate that surrounds us today. The stories heard in the tent are of 10 women from India who are now living in the Bay Area. Some of them have migrated recently while some have been living and working here for decades. Each of the saris inside the tent has been donated by the women interviewed for the installation. The tent, the audios and the Saris allow the women to take space and share their experiences, their stories and their connection with the Sari.

I believe in the vision that Robin and Adrienne share; of creating a space to hold a dialogue around cultures and migration and I am proud to collaborate with them.

The magic of the Handloom

Handloom, defined as “any of various looms or weaving devices operated wholly or partly by hand or foot power”, is one of the greatest sciences of India. Within the warp and the weft of the fabric is the ingenuity of the people behind the craft.

The journey of the handloom starts with the farmer sowing the cotton and then harvesting it a few months later only to be spun into thread by the spinner. The threads then make their way to the dyer who then prepares a palette of multiple colours and soaks the threads into pots of individual colour. Once dried to perfection, the weaver warps the loom with the threads that will make up the Sari. This is no easy feat requiring math, precision and technique as each thread is individually tied according to the design the weaver has in mind. Yes in mind. Not always on paper! It takes anything from a day to many more to set up the loom with the hundreds of threads. This requires time and patience and a love for making a unique garment for a wearer they haven’t seen and might never meet.

1 handloom supports 20 people. Most of them are employed in the cotton field while the others work on sorting cotton, dyeing & spinning thread, setting up the loom and weaving the garment. 

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Handloom weaver weaving a Bengal Tant Sari. Photo: Biswarup Ganguly [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html), CC BY 3.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)
The handloom is science. It dries up quickly, keeps you warm in winter and cool in summer, and is opaque so you can go about your day sans a petticoat. The handloom is a craft and must be preserved for those qualities. Weavers are craftspeople and were given high regard in the past; even accompanying a princess or prince to the new kingdom after marriage! Unfortunately, today changing tastes, globalization, cheap Chinese cotton, and domestic policies such as demonetization & GST are the bane of handloom. If you were to elevate a weaver to a master jewellery maker, it is development. But if they are being reduced to a rickshaw puller or driver, then that is not development.

Our choices influence and shape livelihoods. Our intentions have ramifications; good and bad. It’s imperative to be mindful of the power our choices and intentions have on a craft, a life, and a smile. The next time you find yourself holding a handloom Sari please take a moment to run your hands over the threads, feel the texture, notice the criss-cross of the waft & weft and experience the magic that is the handloom.

 

Happy Raksha to me!

For the longest time, I have excitedly looked forward to Rakshabandhan. I would collect Rakhis all year round keeping in mind the person who would be wearing it. I would mail about 14 Rakhis to my brothers all over India. And then tie another 10 to the local brothers. Spongy ones for my elder brothers. Thin ones for my younger ones.

In the last year, I’ve had experiences where my (girl) friends and I have been followed in the middle of the night by six men in two cars. I’ve had people ogle at me lustily in safe spaces. I’ve been harassed by men and women at workplaces and have had folks reported and taken action against.

In all of these experiences, I had to rely on myself, my intuition, my knowledge (of roads, procedures, and people), and my faith to find a way out of this situation. I’ve had to grow patience, perseverance, confidence and identity to come out of this strong and safe. Physical. Mental. Emotional.

On Raksha Bandhan, we tie a Rakhi on the person we expect to protect us at all times. But in reality, it is unrealistic to expect someone else to be there to protect one at all times. This is like the superman theory where the smart yet ultimately helpless Lois Lane needs to wait for Superman to come and save her when she is in distress. This is patriarchy at its best. Putting the responsibility of safety on someone else; usually, a male, while making yourself; usually a woman feel like a damsel in distress.

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Tying a Rakhi to myself. Photo: Baishampayan Ghose

This year onwards I reject the traditional concept of Raksha Bandhan. My safety is my prerogative and my responsibility. I have a pepper spray in my bag, a baseball bat in my car, and will also learn self-defence. And if anyone deserves my Rakhi this year then it is me and ONLY me. Ultimately it is I who needs to be responsible for my own protection. Cause only I can and must keep myself safe.

To all my strong, intelligent and amazing women, I can only say let’s take the responsibility of creating safe spaces for ourselves.

Happy Raksha to me!

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Cheers! Photo: Baishampayan Ghose