Shantanu Thakur
(The writer can be reached at thakur.santanu@gmail.com)
Some years ago, a friend in Kolkata had told me one evening: 'Let me take you to the Dinosaurs' Club.' For a few moments, I was taken by surprise. Was he talking of the Science City? The evening was hardly the time for it. But then slowly the penny dropped and I got the drift of his joke. What he meant was the grand old elitist club off Park Street. The city, once a flagship of British rule in India, still had a number of these elitist clubs going strong – the Bengal Club, the Calcutta Club, the Tolly, the Calcutta Swimming Club and the likes. Calcutta is still the preferred name here – Kolkata may not quite suit the stiff upper lip; stiff with generational layers of paan and khoir.
It was in one of these clubs that Anand Shankar was refused entry because he was not in 'formal' dress! That was in October 1987. There was an understandable hue and cry over the incident then, but things gradually slipped back to resigned acceptance. After all, it wasn't foreigners doing this appalling discrimination, but our own kith and kin displaying contempt for an accomplished artiste of international repute, for the ridiculous fact that though he was decently dressed, he wasn't in suit and tie. That incident was also not the solitary exception. Celebrities like Bishen Singh Bedi and others also had had to face similar embarrassment in clubs across the country with a negative bias towards traditional dress and bent in favour of the western. Khushwant Sing – the grand old man of Indian journalism – was once also shown the door at the high-brow Madras Club. The Sardar, however, had taken it in his stride: "Let these old fogeys have their petty little rules," he had said. His gaffe was wearing chappals– "respectable looking ones," he had affirmed - when he had gone to dine with hosts Geeta Doctor and Raj Mohan Gandhi, resident editor of The Indian Express.
Which brings us to the question – why are Indians still chained to such colonial attitudes even after years of being under a free sky? In matters of the sartorial, ours is a land that can proudly flaunt its wide array of colourful, stately, dignified wardrobes of traditional dresses and apparel. We have some of the most fabulous, colourful, resplendent home-grown dresses and clothing any nation should be proud to put on and flaunt. Our people not only have distinctive daily wear of various shades but outstanding formal wear for every ceremonial occasion. From East to West, and North to South of this vast, wine country, it's a wonderful spread of traditional weave befitting every occasion. And yet, we are hesitant and shy to put on our best foot forward in our own traditional clothing. Surprisingly enough, the Bengalis had been visibly proud and conscious about the grace and dignity of not only the famous sari of the Bongo Nari but the gracefully wrapped dhoti of the Bhadralok too. From great stalwarts like Vivekananda, Sarat Chandra and others of their time to the later day Jyoti Bosu and Buddhadeb Bhattacharjee, the dhoti elegantly carried grace and dignity. Surprising, therefore, the lesser mortals still continue to find sophisticated identity in western apparel to be acknowledged as gentlemen – prim and propah as seen through the eyes of the West. It's almost as if the Britishers have caught us by the neck with that stifling tie - ready to tighten the knot around our necks as and when they please. Tagore himself, at the peak of the Raj, had gained worldwide reverence in his long-flowing Jubba– a personalized dress that became an inseparable part of his respectable image. Rather odd, therefore, that Brown Sahibs in independent India prefer to stay confined and straight-jacketed, carrying an imaginary white man's burden.
It mustn't have been just a casual decision why the Mahatma choose to wear the 'dhoti' in his public appearances after he came back from South Africa where he had, in fact, been quite used to western formal wear. The soul of the vast ancient land, its dignified simplicity, its protest against the subjugation of its teeming millions had to come out forcefully against the Empire and he chose the knee-length dhoti and the lakuti – indifferent and oblivious to jibes of being called the half-naked Fakir. What a sight it must have been to see this messiah walk up the steps of the Buckingham Palace in his humble, hand-spun cotton dhoti, striding up to challenge the Queen of England demanding freedom for India. A spontaneous natural parallel that springs to mind is that of Moses commanding the Egyptian King with: "Let my people go!"
The Mahatma seems to have left another interesting legacy, at least as far as what to wear when and what not to - in the occasionally still popping up Gandhi Topi! There's some confusion on exactly which time around he took to this headgear, but the point one is trying to make is somewhat different. Gandhiji and the other tall leaders of his time who took to this cap looked dignified and respectable with it. It went well with their personalities; like a part of themselves. After his death, however, for reasons not for me to postulate, the Gandhi cap also seems to have lost its iconic aura. On most heads who wear them today, the cap seems uncomfortable and ill-fitting – almost a travesty – not just visually, but symbolically as well.
It's quite an irony that when traditional Indian apparel is finding top slots in international platforms of the fashion industry, we Indians feel squeamish and uneasy to accommodate them in our so-called formal occasions; conveniently refusing to see the truth that is blowing in the wind. The most prestigious club of the country with a full history of British dress protocol for ceremonial occasions – the Indian Parliament has itself moved ahead with the times and adopted and adapted to traditional formal wear in various official ceremonies. Only a few of our myopic brethren still bury our heads ostrich-like, rather than get out of the clutch of the tie and its attendant suffocation.
A real-life anecdote comes to mind: in the mid-forties, an affluent planter from Jorhat was about to visit London for the first time. He, therefore, came to seek advice from a senior who had attended the round-table conference twice. The man reportedly advised him not to worry because, he said, ' a gentleman here was a gentleman there too'! Grace, dignity, respect are virtues that are to the manner born; if you have it in you, you can carry your head high in decent deportment in most clothing.
"Apparel oft proclaims the man", Polonius had advised his son. True, but not necessarily always in borrowed clothes. As the proud Indian Republic overtakes yet another milestone in its eternal journey, let's respectfully recall the spin of the charkha and learn to move on with the times. Dinosaurs are best left confined to the museums of antiquity.