Dressing up in the restroom

This rant is flowing out from pent up thoughts of many years, probably decades. The irksome act that has triggered this post is what the ubiquitous young Chennai male does in front of the mirror in a restroom.

When a desi “doood” enters the restroom, please bear in mind that the primary purpose is dressing up and the secondary is putting the flush tank to use. He stands in front of the mirror to take in his awesomeness and then stands there for more. Next, he gets on to washing his face, an act which requires about 2 litres of water being splashed on to the face, with some 1 litre flowing from the tap to the drain.

After water has been passed on from the inlet pipes to his face, the drain, the mirror and anything in a 1 foot radius, he slowly rises up to check if his awesomeness is still intact. He then resumes the act of taking in the awesomeness that was not washed away and with a generous pull-out of paper towels, he wipes his face and hands clean. After disposing the used towels, it is back to taking in some more of the awesomeness.

The “doood” then pulls out a small comb or some such contraption that has been procured primarily for its small size that can fit into the back pocket of a trouser. He now proceeds to comb his hair, repeating the sweep many times over. The hand that doesn’t have the comb goes around patting the combed hair just to quell any rebellion the strands may have planned. For added effect, there is a liberal movement of the neck for about 180 degrees, to ensure that not a single strand has moved away from its prescribed position.

Now comes a small variant in the action, caused by the presence or absence of facial hair in some “dooods”. The ones without any facial hair move on to the action in the next paragraph, whereas the ones, who don’t, move to the next sentence. The comb apparatus is now used to brush the moustache and beard if applicable, again with a lot of focus on aligning the strands to the prescribed position.

Finally, the said comb is then tucked back into the rear pocket with or without a wash, based on the time available on hand. Then it is again back to taking in the awesomeness. You see, I am fine with all this grooming because the probability of hairstyle to change in an hour or so is quite minimal, unless one is in the path of a major gust of wind, the probability of which is even lower, especially in Chennai. What I simply cannot understand is the next stage of the dressing up activity.

This next and in most cases final stage, involves the tucking in of the shirt inside the trousers. Sometimes it is also a T-shirt, but I digress. The fashion rules of Chennai somehow mandates that one should tuck in the shirt such that some portion of the tuck, spills over to the belt. Maybe it is a rule created to cover up the grossly worn out belt or the fact that the belt is so big that it wraps to near your rear.

The “dooods” spend a good part of the next 4 minutes to pummel the shirt inside the trouser, brush it to ensure that it sticks to the position over the belt, adjust the trousers by jiggling them a little, once again brushing the shirt, then jiggle some more….you get the drift. There is of course a liberal turning of one’s body to the maximum extent possible, so that one can see how the shirt is tucked in at the sides and part of the rear.

You wonder why I don’t understand the need to spend so much time in tucking in the shirt? Simple. The minute you take 5-6 steps, there is a clear movement of your clothes and all the tucking in will slowly ease itself out of the contrived placements. Also, invariably, the “doood” is going to sit on a chair either at his work-desk or in the cafeteria. In any case, physics and biology clearly dictate that the shirt will move, thereby negating all the time spent in correcting it in the restroom. So why do people still do it? Is it because they want even a casual onlooker to ignore the fact that the ubiquitous young Chennai male is wearing a striped t-shirt, tucked into a dark terry-cotton trouser with a white sneaker to complete the ensemble? 

I survived Nalli

Actually, I want to make it clear up front that I have nothing against Nalli, other than the fact that it is located in T.Nagar. This post and the title would have resulted even if I'd visited any Saree selling shop. And if I'd probably visited Pothy's or some such enterprise, nothing would be left of me to post anything ever again.

It all started because I sold my Maruti 800 last month. This meant that for the 2009 Deepavali shopping in my family, I had to do the driver duty. And the day selected to formally initiate the shopping was today.

When the weather forecast indicated that I was to drive to T.Nagar, I made a deal with my parents that we should go in the morning itself to avoid the rush. Things went according to plan and we were there at Nalli by 10 AM. Surprisingly, I got a parking space within the premises of the shop itself.

A point to be noted here is that I haven't gone to Nalli for many years now. I wont be surprised if it is a decade in fact. I am, of course, referring to the Nalli at Panagal Park.

But the minute I entered, I realised that this place hadn't changed much. I was proven wrong once we entered the upper levels of this shop. First of all, I have only vague memories of going upstairs. And the vague became vaguer once we were pointed to some side entrances and additional floor space. It was like a Universe within a Universe.

The floor layout of the shop may have changed. But its customers don't seem to have changed much. There were clearly, more women than men and I can classify them thus:

Women:
1. Excited young girls getting their first Saree
2. Youngsters trying to get a Saree to wear on very special family functions
3. Office-going young-to-middle-ageing women buying Saree to wear on special office functions
4. Middle-aged aunties in jeans and t-shirt (with eyeglasses above the forehead) trying to buy something to prove that they are still Indians
5. Middle-aged women going through the ritual of buying stuff for festivals
6. Older women doing the same

Men:
1. Bored husbands
2. Bored sons
3. Bored brothers
4. Bored drivers
5. Bored cousins
6. You can repeat the above set by replacing "Bored" with "Exhausted", "Confused", "Frustrated" and "Scared".

Seriously, the only happy men inside the shop would be the owners. No one else.

And the women! My goodness. The Saree shop seems to be a level-playing field for all types of women because they all want do the same thing - nudging each other to catch a good spot near a pile of Sarees; Playing small mind games on each other by passing bad remarks on some Saree; Asking for something and then saying that they asked for something else altogether; Using complicated technical analysis on the Saree material; Asking their male accomplices for an opinion that they are anyway going to ignore; Yet, making the male accomplice feel as if he had a say in the whole decision!!!

Yikes! If there is one thing that is really great about being a grown-up single man, it is the fact that one doesn't have to frequent Saree shops that often. Once a year and you are all set.

I am sure that most men have experienced such exasperating moments in their lives. But at least you have to go through this pain a few times a year. Spare a thought for the salesperson at the shop who has to do this for literally every day of his adult life! And the people at Nalli seem to be hardened professionals. Some of them actually indulged in banter with the customers! God save them!

I request the reader to also go through this post from Raghu.

Random Observation # 049 - Men and Women

It struck me all of a sudden (why else is this a Random Observation?) that when the scale of operation of a work/task/job changes, the gender of the people who do that job changes.

Examples:
1. Tailor.
The tailor to whom we individually give clothes is a man. Whereas, the Tailor who stitches our ready made garments is invariably a woman.
2. Cook.
The cooks who work in individual homes are invariably (if not exclusively) women. But the cooks who work n restaurants and those in the catering business are invariably (if not exclusively) women.
3. Those who serve food.
At home, it is either a mother or a wife. In restaurants and parties, it is invariably men.
4. Sweeper/Domestic help etc.
The ones who come home are all women. The ones who do the same job in an office of public are invariably men (except in ladies' rest rooms of course).
5. Story Telling.
To kids at home, grandmothers and aunts were the ones who spin yarns. But when it comes to the celluloid medium, the men are the ones doing it.

Anything else to add?

Note from author: 18-June-2009:
Corrected the mistake in point number 3; what you see now is the updated version. Thanks Ram.