From: mgundeko@pcserver2.Naitc.Com (Murthy Gundekota)
Subject: The Gundekota File: Are you dressed up or down? 
Organization: Somewhere near Chicago
Date: Wed, 19 Aug 92 18:00:57 GMT

The Gundekota File-Entry#8: Are you dressed up or down? 
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In article <susanc.714176580@keckiris> susanc@rice.edu (susan chacko) writes:
>Eons of evolution, in theory, should have developed a traditional garb
>that's perfectly suited to the temperature, humidity, and occupation
>of the local residents. 

Yes, you also find it in parts of Andamans, Africa, Australia, South
America--practically every continent--it's called nakedness.

Then she wonders:

>So why is traditional Indian clothing taboo for men?

Who can forgive a lungi? Not even chimps, unless they are naked in the
wild. It's a turn-off to most women. May be because lungi is like
sari, without that many folds.   

As for kurta and the rest,  they are too inconvenient to get out
of when necessary. Especially when it matters for some women. Also, a
kurta is easy to catch fire with all the overflowing ends, especially
among cigarette smokin' women. In a kurta the pockets are real
bummers. Most men want to conceal their `wings' or `tires.' Even a
simple bill-folder in the kurta pocket will `sag' the kurta around the
breasts and add several inches to the macho poncho man. The worst part
of kurta is its sleeves. You can't fold'em nice to get enough
ventilation.

Pajama is no good either when you need to express thru a toilet. So
many knots to undo--you wish you didn't goof off as a scout. Even
after you undid it by hook, the damn rope hangs around the hook, and
sometimes even dives into the pot--and the wick phenomenon between
the pot and the knot begins. In the end you are left drying your
pajama instead of your hands under the hot-air blower. Works great if
it's not a no-women-allowed island of a toilet.   

What happens when a kurta-pajama meets a sari on the bed. It's the
ultimate communion of attires. On one hand, the pajama's knot isn't
unfolding and on the other the sari's thick veil isn't yielding. You
spend all night removing your clothes--one fiber at a time.

Then you have occassions outside toilet or bedroom when you have to
walk with these things on the streets. The sari's `pita' end is
sweeping the pavement, while the pajama's low hanging crouch is
washing the clean pavement. It's the Indian road-cleaning
crew.

Never forget that time when you invariably meet another couple not
dressed like you are. The guy sticks out his hand from the t-shirt in
a jiffy, while you are struggling to demonstrate that you aren't
amuputated. The failed hand-shake attempt results in a namasthe where
the qurter-handicapped palm-less kurta sleeves magically raise into
the air. If you are the one wearing the sari, your fingers are trapped
in the pita. It's like a chewing gum you can't get rid off. By the
time you are done untwisting to free your fingers you would've
gesticulated so many obsceneties that the other couple is too glad to
saunter on the freshly made poodle puddle.

The only thing different for a lungoti is that it should've been a
turban for the head. Whereas a turban should've been an ornament to
cover up the baldness. 

All will raise to agree that the pony-tail on a Hindu priest with a
ribbon is the cutest of all Indian attires. So cute that pony tails on
the men are the cool thangs nowadays. Why if you ask the women, they will
say they have no faintest notion. I think it resembles something
desirable for them.

Rest in peace naked,

Murthy