My darling Dhoti!

Those of you who don’t know what Dhoti is, a brief intro: Dhoti is a rectangular sarong like stuff wrapped around one’s legs. There are vary many variations of how it is wrapped around depending on what part of Asia you are in. It is known by many names, e.g., Lungi, Maylee (in my part of Punjab, it is called “Maylee” when men wear it, and “Gamcha” when women wear it). In terms of material to be used in Dhoti, the most popular is cotton – in white or cream color. To get a little additional bang for the buck, one can have the corners embroiderd in gold. That’s just the basic introduction of what a Dhoti is. Now the story:

When I first arrived in New York many years ago, my Mann Ji (mother) sent me away with 3 pairs of Shalwar Kameez (two white made out of Latha with Dourey Shalwar cuffs) and one of KT. She also packed me a Dhussa (a blanket like men’s Shawl made out of camel or lamb wool to keep warm in NY winters. In addition, she packed me two pairs of Khussas (Punjabis shoes) and two Dhotis, for evening walks in the city. I arrived at JFK with my suitcase, the customs officers examines my stuff and says “nice table cloth” “is it hand-made?” he asks. Sir, this is not a tablecloth, this is a Dhoti, I explained to him. He had other passengers to examine, so he let me go. My cousin Irfan was waiting outside to receive me. He was wearing raggedy torn jeans and an old wrinkled t-shirt. That explained why his parents owned a big house in our village because he was saving all his money and sending it to them. We walk to his car – He drove this really old Alfa-Romeo 1957 convertible. Poor son of a bitch, I said to myself.

We get to his house. He lived in some suburb of the city. His house was big, but everything inside was old. Old furniture, old kitchen, old this and old that. A very old clock on the wall, that didn’t even have the right time – it actually didn’t even work. I asked him why was he so cheap with his money? Why couldn’t he buy a new car, and upgrade his furniture. He tells me that his car is worth 125,000 dollars (I rolled my eyes and said “yeah sure”, and also that I would hate to imagine how much a new car will cost in this country). He was taking me for dinner to some fancy restaurant that he had called ahead of time. So the cook will make the food that my friend liked. I hope it is spicy, I say to myself.

After taking a bath in his old bathroom. I dress up. I wear my starched white Kurta and my new Dhoti with my new pair of silver Kasoori Khussa. I put on Chambayli oil and part my hair in the middle and give “Wat” (turn up) to my moustache. Looking myself in the mirror, I resemble Ranjha (Punjabi counterpart of Romeo). I come down to the living room where my cousin is waiting for me. “What the Freck” says Irfan, “What the hell are you wearing, man?”. Do you plan to go to La Belle Epoque like that? Do you know how many stares you will get? Do you know what kind of name you will make for Pakistan by showing up at La Belle Epoque in a friggin Dhoti?

I couldn’t understand why Irfan was so upset? And that too over my new dress.

He gives me his clothes, a pair of pants and a shirt, and a “sports coat”. I change into his clothes. I didn’t want to see my cousin upset.

When we get to La Belle Epoque, a fancy French restaurant, we sat, and I see a group of Chinese looking men and two of them in Silk Dhotis and silk Caps. Someone on the next table tells us that the men in Dhotis were Ambassadors of Burma and Indonesia.

I slapped Irfan on his face as hard as I could and I left the restaurant.

Today, I also own a 1957 Alfa-Romeo convertible, have lots of old stuff in my house and I don’t have any Dhotis. Later today, I am going to JFK to pick up my nephew arriving from my village. He is going to study journalism at Columbia.