Loading ...I had picked up P from school last evening and we were both walking slowly down the roads. When we neared the station, an older boy on a cycle and a girl on foot rushed past us. That was when I saw her. The girl. And what she was wearing.
Well, it was one of those ‘blink and you miss it’ type outfits. As it was kind of warm out, she had taken her jacket off and as a result, all I could see of her from behind were here black and white candy-striped, bum hugging jeans topped with something that looked vaguely like a tatty piece of cloth. There was her black bra, displayed in all its glory and parallel to it were two strips of black t-shirt material, knotted Shakuntala style. That was it.
When she turned into the station, I could vaguely make out the front part of it. There wasn’t much more material that had miraculously materialised and attached itself to her front. All the available material did was to cover the bra.
I was thanking my stars P was 1. too young to decipher that outfit 2. too tired to ask me any embarassing questions.
I wanted to know what that girl’s mum was thinking, letting her loose on the streets, barely dressed so. That garment, laughingly called a ‘top’, is obscene for any age. If she is old enough or ‘developed’ enough to need the services of a bra, then she needs more material to cover herself. When I think of all the poor folks we bump into in India, who wear tattered garments cos they can’t afford any proper ones and then I see idiots like this, traipsing about half naked in the name of fashion.
Kali yug?
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