By Sonakshi Sep. 13, 2016
Why stop at jeans? Paridhan must launch a range of electronic bras, which notify women on the “My Izzat” app, each time a strap is exposed. A tailor’s fervent request to Ramdev.
I have been your biggest fan ever since my wife was cured of her lesbian disease. After seven years of persuasion and yoga, and a nearly neck-breaking try at Sirsasana, she is now happily heterosexual and also wonderfully flexible in bed.
Today, our lives are devoted to you. Our days begin with the rhythmic hissing of nasal mucus streaming in and out, as we perform the Anulom-Vilom, and end with the exhilarating fragrance of farts, after a post-dinner Pawanmuktasana. All products in our house are sourced from your business noble enterprise which rescues India from evil MNCs. My kids, Patan and Jali, are very fond of your instant noodles. Of course, it always causes them to throw up (a saffron-coloured vomit), but I assume that is just a visionary, self-cleaning mechanism that comes into play after eating the noodles. Nothing to do with the FSSAI and stuff.
So, Babaji, it is only in my capacity as your most devoted well-wisher that I say this: You need help.
You need help with Paridhan, your new line of sanskari, swadesi clothes for Indians. Don’t get me wrong – your fashion sense is incredible. You’ve carried the two outfits you’ve worn in the past fifty years with panache, finesse, aplomb, and other relevant French words. Why, your magazine cover has literally turned heads. But, I think you might need help designing the women’s line of clothing, which is why, I, Anup Leddis’ Tailor, a specialist in all kinds of “ladies’ wears, ladies’ tears, and ladies’ alteration”, decided to write to you with my suggestions.
As you have noted, the jeans is in urgent need of reform. It pretends to reveal nothing, but if you look closely (as many of us regularly do), you’ll see how it throws the indecent fact that women have figures in the face of men.
Finally, Babaji, I’d like to propose a revolutionary new dress for your brand. As it is inspired by Indian culture and designed to make women invisible, I have cleverly named it “Mr India”.
Your friend, Mr Acharya, has already said that the Swadeshi jeans for women will be loose so that they “comply by our cultural norms”. I fear that will not be enough. The Swadeshi jeans must come attached with a flowing, knee-length lungi (a powerful garment, and the only thing apart from daaru, chicks, and parties, to have inspired the art of Honey Singh) at the waist, so that a woman’s butt, as well as the vulgar hint of a pit between her legs, is hidden. The zipper of the jeans should come attached with nimbu-mirchi, to ward off buri nazar and protect her izzat. Besides, all pockets in the Swadeshi jeans must come equipped with rakhis (à la SRK’s friendship-band pocket in Kuch Kuch Hota Hai). This way, women can seamlessly convert any approaching attackers into “bhaiyyas”, a rape-prevention trick brought to us straight from the horse’s mouth.
Babaji, I suggest, we look into (the matter of) women’s underwear, too. Visible bra straps are the leading cause of stress and stupid Quora questions in our country. Therefore, Paridhan must launch a range of nude-coloured, electronically enabled bras, which notifiy women on their “My Izzat” app, every time a strap is exposed. This “My Izzat” app can be further developed into a cultured Tinder of sorts (in which case, we can desify it by calling it Tinda). Women can upload pictures of whatever they’re planning to wear on Tinda, and a panel of renowned rape-victim critics like politicians, religious leaders, and YouTube commenters, can then swipe right or left depending on whether or not the dress is acceptable to Indian culture.
We must also take forward the mission that Sushmita Senji started, and make saris great again. This can be achieved by selling Swadeshi palazzos/skirts that come attached with pallus (which cover a whopping two per cent more of the body). So, once women pair them with crop tops, accessorised with mangalsutra chokers, the ensemble transforms into a sari by itself.
Finally, Babaji, I’d like to propose a revolutionary new dress for your brand. As it is inspired by Indian culture and designed to make women invisible, I have cleverly named it “Mr India”. You will be happy to know that manufacturing it will be a breeze. All you need is a roll of bandage and a bedsheet. To wear it, women must tightly wrap themselves in the bandage, thereby transforming into perfect mummies (just what us culture protectors want them to be), and successfully hiding everything from their tempting necks to their sexy, sexy toes. Then, they must cut up a hole in the middle of the bedsheet, slip it on, and voila, they’re good to go! (With male company, of course.)
Sure, wearing the Mr India outfit might lead to a few minor discomforts, such as a complete inability to pee, a life as hands-free as Thakur’s, and the pervasive feeling that you’re about to get a haircut. But, that’s all part of the plan. The dress is meant to be suffocating and uncomfortable, just like the version of Indian culture we’re always trying to peddle.
Babaji, I hope you take my ideas seriously, and use them to create perfect clothes for the perfectly sanskari #DesiGirl.
Sonakshi is a writer based in Delhi. She likes to think about complex issues such as politics, gender, and who makes Asaram Bapu trend on Twitter every morning.