Sari buying...

...from a big store is a nerve wrecking experience for me. Unless of course I'm buying from a small shop-in-the house run by nice Malleshwaram aunty who has been collecting exquisite silks for years. That too has its pitfalls. As aunty plies me with gorgeous silk after silk out of a 100 year old cupboard, I'm wondering if it would look too rude if I walked out without buying anything except a small silk stole perhaps.

But the stores are something else. I freeze the moment I step in. Especially if I'm alone. Everyone eyes you a tad suspiciously because after all sari buying in India is group activity. You're supposed to land up with your mom, maami, mausi and even third cousin and debate the merits of crystal work on pure georgette vs kantha stitch. Landing up single in a sari shop is as uncomfortable as landing up single in a pub. In fact, more so.

And why oh why are the best sari stores populated by men? I mean, c'mon it's women who buy saris largely, right? Then why would we want it draped around us by a man who is never going to look even remotely passable in those six yards? Isn't the job done better and more comfortably by a woman?

My worst nightmare is the eager beaver salesman. He'll insist you have 'cold drinks' the moment you step in and show you what he thinks are the best designs (bilkul fassnebale. Yehi design Anamika Khanna 30 thousand ka bechti hai. Aur hum apko almost free de rahe hai). Never mind if it looks like satin rags stitched together (with sequins, don't forget the sequins). In that rare moment when you can get a word in and ask to see a sari you think you may like, he'll reject your taste with a 'yeh to ekdum simple hai madam, partywear ke liye nahi jamega.'

The very same salesman, who usually looks like a stick insect will also critically evaluate your chances of carrying of designer stuff. 'Yeh pre-stiched choli ke saath aata hai, aapke size ke liye theek rahega.' AAAAAAAARGGGH!

By this time, you are halfway between a desire to leave and a strong desire to just sit there lulled by the AC+cold drink combo and keep staring at the technicolour display unfolding. Salesman is figuring out that you may not have liked anything at all, so switches into aggro mode: Aapko exactly kaisa chahiye? partwear? simple design wala? yeh ghaghra style sari chalega? Aap theek se batayegi to hum bhi sahi wala nikalenge na. Kanjeevaram mein zardozi work nahin pasand? Arre aajkal yehi chal raha hai.'

You finally find courage and meekly say that perhaps you will come back. At this salesman gestures someone to pick up the sprawled saris in a voice tinged with anger and despair. He tries one last time to interest you in a sari that screams SEQUIN ATTACK but the flick of his hand conveys that he's lost interest in you and is just finishing his job.

And you walk out of glittering sari store emotionally battered and head for the nearest 'cold drink' kiosk.