Ode on the Lungi
(for Baby and Shawkat Osman)
Artwork by Apurba Kanti Das
Grandpa Walt, allow me to share my thoughts with you, if only because every time I read "Passage to India" and come across the phrase "passage to more than India" I fancy, anachronistically, that you wanted to overshoot the target by a shadow line and land in Bangladesh Lately, I've been thinking a lot about sartorial equality How far we are from this democratic ideal! And how hypocritical! "All clothes have equal rights"— this nobody will deny and yet, some obviously are more equal than others No, I'm not complaining about the jacket and tie required in certain places— that, like fancy dress parties, is in the spirit of a game I'm talking of something more fundamental Hundreds of millions from East Africa to Indonesia wear the lungi, also known variously as the sarong, munda, htamain, saaram, ma'awaiis, kitenge, kanga, kaiki They wear it day in day out, indoors and out Just think – at any one moment there are more people in lungis than the population of the USA Now try wearing one to a White House appointment – not even you, Grandpa Walt, laureate of democracy, will make it in You would if you affected a kilt – but a lungi? No way. But why? – this is the question I ask all to ponder Is it a clash of civilizations? The sheer illogicality of it – the kilt is with "us" but the lungi is with "them"! Think too of neo-imperialism and sartorial hegemony, how brown and yellow sahibs in natty suits crinkle their noses at compatriots (even relations) in modest lungis, the sole exception being Myanmar where political honchos queue up in lungis to receive visiting dignitaries But then, Myanmar dozes behind a cane curtain, a half pariah among nations Wait till it's globalised: Savile Row will acquire a fresh crop of patrons Hegemony invades private space as well: my cousin in America would get home from work and lounge in a lungi – till his son grew ashamed of dad and started hiding the "ridiculous ethnic attire" It's all too depressing But I won't leave it at that The situation is desperate Something needs to be done I've decided not to take it lying down The next time someone insinuates that I live in an Ivory Tower I'll proudly proclaim I AM A LUNGI ACTIVIST! Friends and fellow lungi lovers, let us organize lungi parties and lungi parades, let us lobby Hallmark and Archies to introduce an international Lungi Day when the UN Chief will wear a lungi and address the world Grandpa Walt, I celebrate my lungi and sing my lungi and what I wear you shall wear It's time you finally made your passage to more than India – to Bangladesh – and lounging in a lungi in a cottage on Cox's Bazar beach (the longest in the world, we proudly claim) watched 28 young men in lungis bathing in the sea But what is this thing (my learned friends, I'm alluding to Beau Brummell) I repeat, what is this thing I'm going on about? A rectangular cloth, white or coloured or plaid, roughly 45X80 inches, halved lengthwise and stitched to make a tube you can get into and fasten in a slipknot around the waist When you are out of it the lungi can be folded up like a scarf Or you can let your imagination play with the textile tube to illustrate the superstrings of the "Theory of Everything" (vide, the book of this title by the venerable Stephen Hawking) Coming back to basics, the lungi is an elaborate fig-leaf, the foundation of propriety in ordinary mortals Most of the year, when barebodied is cool you can lead a decent life with only a couple of lungis, dipping in pond or river or swimming in a lungi abbreviated into a G-string, then changing into the other one Under the hot sun a lungi can become Arab-style headgear Come chilly weather the spare lungi can be an improvised shawl The lungi as G-string can be worn to wrestle or play kabaddi but on football or cricket field or wading through the monsoon it's folded vertically and kilted at the knee In short the lungi is a complete wardrobe for anyone interested: an emblem of egalitarianism, symbol of global left-outs Raised and flapped amidst laughter it's the subaltern speaking And more: when romance strikes, the lungi is a sleeping bag for two: a book of poems, a bottle of hooch and your beloved inside your lungi – there's paradise for you If your luck runs out and the monsoon turns into a biblical deluge just get in the water and hand-pump air to balloon up your lungi – now your humble ark When you find shelter on a treetop take it off, rinse it, wave it at the useless stars You might then say: in this wretched world it's the flag of your indisposition Kaiser Haq is professor of English at Dhaka University.
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