 "The many ways of draping a sari")
The sari can be what you want it to be. A pair of pants suited for workplace, a casual wrap dress for a day out with friends or flaunt-worthy evening wear — few garments have gone through a reinvention as massive as the sari. Textile scholar Rta Kapur Chishti has taken the revival of the sari to an entirely new level. According to her, there are 108 ways in which one can drape a sari, all of which have been documented in her book Sari: Tradition and Beyond and a few of which are taught at a sari-styling workshop called “The Sari School”. “It’s not a class meant for teaching people how to wear a sari,” says Chishti. “People have lost regional identity because of greater urbanisation. The question is how to re-introduce the sari in another form.”
Each of those 108 ways is unique to at least one of the 15 states she travelled across India over the course of her 20-year-long research. As someone who has always avoided giving the six-yard wonder a chance, I decide to let her drape me in four of those styles at Taan Baan, the studio she runs out of a basement in New Delhi’s Jangpura Extension.
Venukagundaram
Worn by farmers in northern Andhra, the style is suited for formal occasions. The inner end of the sari is wrapped around the waist and tied in a knot on the left — much like a petticoat fashioned out of a sari. The sari, in fact, doesn’t need a separate underskirt. Nor do any of the 108 styles mentioned in the book. About eight pleats are tucked at the back. On the rare occasions that demanded I wore a sari, I could never stop panicking about the possibility of the front pleats unfurling. I wonder whether I need safety pins inside the back pleats to hold the six yards of the flowing garment in place. “You should never need anything additional to tie or tuck,” explains Chishti. With a front slit at the centre — which can be pulled lower — and one end hanging neatly on my left shoulder, Venukagundaram doesn’t seem incongruous even when worn over a shirt and a pair of slacks. Pair it with a belt and it’s as formal as it gets, with a touch of comfort.
Coorg
A multi-layered, back-pleat variation of the “regular” sari, the style is common among the landowner community of Coorg, Karnataka. Wrapped three times over, with one end thrown over my left shoulder, the sari, however, is a tad too unwieldy for me.
Dhokna Jalpaiguri
Popular among the Mechh community in northern Bengal, the style offers a casual look. I hold my arms out, scarecrow-like, as one end of the sari is wrapped around my chest. It’s important for me to keep my legs slightly apart. “Since the sari has no pleats, the distance between the legs will determine the mobility you’ll have,” says Chishti. The sari-cum-wrap dress ends up being my favourite — all the more so because Chishti says a pair of boots and a belt are all you need to complete the look.
Worn by Odishi dancers, this pant-like style is a combination of contemporary and traditional. Knotted at the front and pleated at the back, the sari almost feels like second skin — I can move my legs freely, ride a bike, and even climb a tree. “It’s functional at its best,” says Chishti.
Each of those 108 ways is unique to at least one of the 15 states she travelled across India over the course of her 20-year-long research. As someone who has always avoided giving the six-yard wonder a chance, I decide to let her drape me in four of those styles at Taan Baan, the studio she runs out of a basement in New Delhi’s Jangpura Extension.
Venukagundaram
Venukagundaram
Worn by farmers in northern Andhra, the style is suited for formal occasions. The inner end of the sari is wrapped around the waist and tied in a knot on the left — much like a petticoat fashioned out of a sari. The sari, in fact, doesn’t need a separate underskirt. Nor do any of the 108 styles mentioned in the book. About eight pleats are tucked at the back. On the rare occasions that demanded I wore a sari, I could never stop panicking about the possibility of the front pleats unfurling. I wonder whether I need safety pins inside the back pleats to hold the six yards of the flowing garment in place. “You should never need anything additional to tie or tuck,” explains Chishti. With a front slit at the centre — which can be pulled lower — and one end hanging neatly on my left shoulder, Venukagundaram doesn’t seem incongruous even when worn over a shirt and a pair of slacks. Pair it with a belt and it’s as formal as it gets, with a touch of comfort.
Coorg
A multi-layered, back-pleat variation of the “regular” sari, the style is common among the landowner community of Coorg, Karnataka. Wrapped three times over, with one end thrown over my left shoulder, the sari, however, is a tad too unwieldy for me.
Dhokna Jalpaiguri
Popular among the Mechh community in northern Bengal, the style offers a casual look. I hold my arms out, scarecrow-like, as one end of the sari is wrapped around my chest. It’s important for me to keep my legs slightly apart. “Since the sari has no pleats, the distance between the legs will determine the mobility you’ll have,” says Chishti. The sari-cum-wrap dress ends up being my favourite — all the more so because Chishti says a pair of boots and a belt are all you need to complete the look.
Kachha
KachhaWorn by Odishi dancers, this pant-like style is a combination of contemporary and traditional. Knotted at the front and pleated at the back, the sari almost feels like second skin — I can move my legs freely, ride a bike, and even climb a tree. “It’s functional at its best,” says Chishti.