Fabindia.....!!!

And this will, most definitely, be the last thing I say today: Nee, I believe, is losing her head, because, as C put it, the country of her birth does not seem to have the kind of formal skirt that she would like to wear when she comes visiting this, the country of her employment. Formal skirt, black, I am thinking, maybe with pin stripes, or maybe not. Definitely with a slit at the back. Chic, she will look, our dear Nee...with a crisp white shirt with three quarter sleeves, and black, sleek pumps to complete the outfit. She should leave her hair be. It isn't all that unruly, unlike mine. It'll behave as it ought to.

But: Why the fuck must she be made to truss herself up in formal clothes in any case? How does a pair of jeans and a ganji take away from her intelligence? Is she less serious about her job if she's wearing glass beads around her neck and irregular stones dangling from her ears instead of tiny diamonds in cold platinum?

Whatever happened to when we were at our best dressed in khadi kurtas, torn, faded jeans, silver jewellery, lots of kaajal. With a jhola too, matched ever so subtley with the rest of the outfit. Subtlety was all it was about, in fact. Putting in all that effort into making yourself look as though you'd dressed most carelessly...oh, the Joy! Nenu cheptunna, Nee...full radical po!