Kurta Pyjama Quotes

is amusing that, after independence, over-fed politicians feigning poverty in their white kurta-pyjamas would come to occupy the spacious bungalows meant for the ‘fat white’. A

For previous generations, progress in life so far would have meant going through the motions prescribed by caste and class: together, the imperatives of education (inevitably vocational), marriage (nearly always arranged, with love regarded as a folly of callow youth), parenthood and professional career (with the government) imposed order, without too many troubling questions about their purpose and meaning. Regional and caste background dictated culinary and sartorial habits: kurta-pyjamas and saris or shalwar-kameezes at home, drab Western-style clothes outside; an unchanging menu of dal, vegetables, rotis and rice leavened in some households with non-alcoholic drinks (Aseem’s first publication in the IIT literary magazine was Neruda-style odes to Rooh Afza and Kissan’s orange squash, Complan, Ovaltine and Elaichi Horlicks). We belonged to a relatively daring generation whose members took on the responsibility of crafting their own lives: working in private jobs, marrying for love, eating pasta, pizza and chow mein as well as parathas, and drinking cola and beer, at home, taking beach vacations rather than going on pilgrimages, and wearing jeans and T-shirts rather than the safari suits that had come to denote style to the preceding generation of middle-class Indians. Our choices were expanded far beyond what my parents or Aseem’s could even imagine.

After Ravi and I took a liking to each other, the first thing I did was to write to Tata, saying, ‘I have met someone I like; he is a Punjabi doctor who is my classmate. Can I bring him home to Balavana?’ Even before I started going out with Ravi, I wanted my parents’ permission. Tata’s cryptic telegram in response to me read, ‘You may come if you wish.’ I went with Ravi to Puttur anyway. Tata appeared to be unprepared for my ever getting married. When he saw us enter the gate of the large Balavana compound, he abruptly returned to the bathroom from which he had just emerged. He seemed unsure of how to face the moment. On the other hand, Amma greeted us both warmly and was happy to see a handsome young man with her daughter. However, having heard he was a ‘Punjabi’, Amma had expected a turbaned Sardar with a flowing beard. To Ravi, who was wearing a white kurta and pyjamas, her first question was, ‘Are you a Mohammedan?’ Amma was so direct and warm. After that first awkward moment, even Tata got along fine with Ravi. In fact, both my parents were very happy. During the two years when we were engaged before our wedding, Ravi used to visit Balavana often.