Sari state

The last I heard, Sari was still India’s national dress. But if the kind of reactions the dress evokes from people it almost appears that you are wearing a kimono.
Just how can you explain reactions ranging from “Hey, what’s up?” to “Aha! What is the occasion” and from “Kya baat hai” to an all-knowing office help smiling and saying “Happy birthday, madam”.
Well, I should be used to it by now, if not the sari, the reactions at least. After all, I started wearing sari to work about two-odd years ago not just to experiment with my rather drab wardrobe but also to start getting comfortable with an outfit I so admired. Also, I made it a point to wear it often enough for people to stop asking me why I was wearing it and whether I was celebrating birthday, anniversary, the rains.. the floods…anything.
But, despite this rather impressive (me thinks) frequency of me turning up in the five-yard wonder (at least once or twice in a month), people around me continue to react in the same manner. I am greeted with broad smiles and curious looks. And then starts the routine “Hey, what’s this” question sessions.
I almost feel that I am the only participant in a cancelled fancy dress who turned up in a strange outfit while the others are dressed sober.
Initially, I did not lose my cool. I would smile and explain that I liked wearing a sari once in a way. I told them I looked for opportunities to drape this awesome fabric around me.. given that there are no family functions that I attend. I told them I found sari the most elegant dress on planet earth, albeit a bit inconvenient when you have to jump around the city interviewing people, managing the pallu.
But, since am dressed in rags most of the time, predictably, the reactions of the curious ``what’s the occasion’’ people are not really off the mark. But, how do I explain that my worn out jeans would appear as my first love, but it’s the sari that I have lost my heart to.