It was a salutary lesson to both boys and girls. We learnt not to be bullied by the bigots, though they were not called that in those days, only Bully Boys. And like all bullies, even this one had no courage, he disappeared from the campus for days and when he reappeared, most of the girls were in trousers, bellbottoms, lungis (sarongs), parallels (the predecessor of today’s palazzos) and dhoti pants. The boys were still in their ordinary cotton trousers.To me personally that episode was my first lesson in feminism, independence and equality. If boys could wear trousers, why couldn’t girls? Girls had the right to decide what to wear. And women were no less than men in any way.My choice of clothes ever since has always been an eclectic mix of western and Indian, dictated by design, colour and comfort and I am damned if I will allow anyone to dictate what I wear, including a bindi or a nose ring – if that makes me look like like sambaar without drumsticks, I am quite happy for I prefer bhindi in my sambaar, anyway. And that is bhindi, okra or ladies’ finger not bindi – just in case the South Indian bigots who pronounce both words the same way did not know.But now the recent outrage by bigots over a particular brand launching Jashn-e- Rivaaz for Diwali – and let me state that I love their soaps, curtains, tea, oil AND, yes, clothes – has got me thinking about the significance of what my classmate had told that Bully Boy years ago – if she had to wear a saree, he had to wear a dhoti,
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