I was tidying up my work area, and came across an old brochure, originally from India and brought to the US by friends of mine, and I realized that, unwittingly, my concept of Lalitha was based almost completely on the cover image shown here!
The brochure appears to be a 'Take One' sort of handout from a saree shop, or at least an office of the Indian government from around the late 1960's, it seems, on how to wear a saree. I believe, historically, this was about the time when Americans were traveling to India, and the Saree Industry was eager to convince western women to try to wear sarees themselves. As far as I can gather, Indian saree fashion of the last several decades have actually been as much influenced by Western dress, as by the development of Indian fabrics. For instance, I have read that, in ancient times, the blouse, the garment that covers the torso of a woman, and worn under the saree, was invariably of a contrasting color. Only lately have blouses begun to be worn in a matching color, apparently inspired by the suits of western women. These days, fashions of all kinds are less slavishly adhered to by anyone.
Is this how I imagined Lalitha?
On the whole, yes, but in the details, I have to say no; this girl, though she wears a innocent and kindly smile, has that self-consciouness that models have! I imagined Lalitha as a serious and awkward young woman. I imagined her comfortable in her own skin, and sort of casually aware of her own attractiveness, and perhaps a little proud of it, but by no means impressed by it. (I'm acutely conscious that I might be making too many--unfair--assumptions about this model, but I can't make my point without being critical of the expression on her face!) I think our illustrator, HALCHROMA has somehow captured the essence of Lalitha a lot better in her cover art (below) than this photograph. Moreover, she did her illustration without having seen this photograph at all.
The brochure, as I said is step-by-step instruction on how to drape a saree. (I would very much like to give credit to the original creators of the brochure, but the information is not available.)
How to drape a Saree
To clarify: you first need to wear a petticoat (a waist-floor-slip) with a strong, non-elastic waist-band. The waistband carries the entire weight of the saree. You also need a dozen or so large safety-pins. (A couple of safety-pins of the sort that you used to use for baby nappies would be great, if available; they're hard to find, these days!)
Frame 1. Contrary to the description, you begin with anchoring the top end of the saree into your waistband in the center of your back. (The instructions suggest that you start at your right hip. Do it each way, and choose the method that works best for you.)
Bring it forward, going from right-to-left, and make a large pleat in front, and pin it to your petticoat. These pleats enable you to walk! Tuck the top edge of the saree into the petticoat. (While you're winding the saree around yourself, leave the fabric in a pile on the floor, and turn your body; it is more difficult to be wrangling all those six yards of fabric around you.)
Frame 2. Continue wrapping the saree around your waist, until you get to the center of your back again (where you started). Make another large pleat, tuck it in, and, if you plan to be active with your saree on, use a safety-pin to pin the saree to the petticoat at the pleat. (Keep tucking the top edge of the saree into the petticoat.)
Frame 3. Now, we use the universal-one-size-fits-all feature of the saree! All this while, the unwrapped part of the saree would lie in a puddle on the floor, as shown. At this point, gather the end of the saree. (This will be the part of the saree that falls gracefully over your shoulder, when you're done draping the rest of the saree.) Leaving most of it on the floor, wind about six feet of it (1) round to your left, (2) round your back, (3) across your front, and (4) over your left shoulder. Do this at about chest level, keeping the material bunched up. Depending on your size, more or less of your saree will be in front of you, looking slightly pathetic! To prevent the end of the saree sliding off, either wind it around your neck loosely, or temporarily pin it in place.
Frame 4. Pleat the slack length of saree, as shown in the fourth illustration. Of course, because of the end of the saree looped around you and over your shoulder, you won't look very much like the girl in the photo; there will be a lot of saree across your chest. But pleat enough to take up the slack, so that all the material that was on the floor is pleated across your stomach. (In the article, they tell you to pleat just as much as the girl in the photo needs, which is a lot, because she's so thin; the temporary winding of the end of the saree around you makes it clear just exactly how much pleating you need. The end of the saree around your chest and neck will definitely be a nuisance.)
Frame 5. Now you are a little beyond the illustration on the left above, because there is extra saree around your chest and neck. But, if all went well, the slack will all have been pleated up, and carefully tucked into your waistband, and the pleats will be pinned onto your petticoat with the largest safety-pin you have. (Rounded-point safety-pins are kinder to silk sarees!) I just remembered that, because of the pin that holds the ornamental front pleats in place, you do not need to pin the front pleats in the lower layers
Frame 6. Now, unwrap the temporary windings you did earlier; you're going to redo it neatly and properly. The saree is wrapped from the pleats to the left, around your body, across the back, and to where the girl has it at her right hip. All of this can be tucked-in to your petticoat waistband. But at this point, the last few feet of the saree are draped across your front, covering up your breast, and over your left shoulder, and allowed to hang. See the last photo above.
Frame 7. Some girls allow this last bit of saree to be draped over the shoulder, with almost all of it falling off the shoulder. An alternative is to pleat these last few feet lengthwise, and pin them neatly to the shoulder of your blouse. This keeps the saree very firmly in place, and actually allows you to be a lot more active. (I have been told of some South Indian women who would actually play tennis, wearing saree! This was a long time ago, and I expect competition was not very fierce back then.) That style is not common today, and it will be difficult to find a photo that illustrates that style.
It seemed to me that the model in these photographs looked excessively tall! I shortened her, and you see the result above. This looks a lot more like I imagined Lalitha to be, except that she would not have looked so grand except possibly at her first wedding, at which she married Suresh's father. (For weddings, girls are dressed in a more buttoned-down version of saree; the style above is more for informal social occasions. Some women will adopt this style for presenting in front of an audience.)
Honestly, Halchroma's cover, at left, is almost miraculously how I think Lalitha has evolved in my imagination, in the story a year or two after they settle down in Philadelphia, where Helen goes to university. I would have expected Helen's arms to have more flesh on them than Lalitha's arms, but they're within the limits of plausibility. I love the expressions on their faces, so different, yet so harmonious together!
I'll fine-tune this post, as I think about the process of wearing a saree more carefully! The photos above have their own instructions, which are simpler than mine. If you prefer, follow them, except that the end of the saree may not drape exactly as you want it to, because the amount of pleating is hard to estimate. Go ahead and pleat exactly as much as they suggest; if the fall is too short, well, pleat less next time. If the fall is too long, pull the end around you, like a shawl!
Kay, wishing she had a saree to play with these days!!
