Saree-ously Modest: Decoding Dilemmas

What is it that angers me most? Probably the education system. No, definitely the education system. However, today we are ranting about an aspect of the said system that has been in the limelight for way too many debates to count now: dress code or the false innuendo of modest dressing. 

In a completely hypothetical situation ofc, let's say you are a final year post-grad student who is absolutely done with college life and is on the verge of attending a final farewell that your dear dear juniors have masterfully arranged for you. For this D-Day, preparations began D - 14 days ago, outfits were carefully curated on Pinterest 2 months ago, Material for the said outfit was purchased having sold a kidney. Alright, I agree to have exaggerated it a bit- the cost of my kidney equated to that and the stitching charges. 

But but but, the issue seems to be with modest dressing. What a perplexing concept! It's like stepping into a labyrinth with no clear path in sight. What exactly does "modest dressing" even mean? It's as vague as a foggy morning, leaving us stumbling in the dark of uncertainty.

Let's break it down, shall we? Modest dressing supposedly entails covering up, but to what extent? Are we talking ankle-length skirts and high-necked blouses like we've time-travelled back to the Victorian era? Or perhaps it's more about avoiding skin-tight clothing that outlines every curve and contour like we're all supposed to be walking, shapeless blobs?

And don't even get me started on the contradictions! In some cultures, modesty might mean covering one's head, while in others, it's perfectly modest to flaunt a bikini on the beach. It's like trying to solve a riddle wrapped in an enigma dipped in ambiguity.

The most frustrating part? Modesty seems to change its mind more often than my teenage sister. One moment, we're told to cover up to avoid tempting the masses with our scandalous shoulders, and the next, we're encouraged to embrace our bodies and flaunt what our mamas gave us.

And oh the double standards! It's as if modesty only applies to certain folks, while others get a free pass to strut their stuff without judgment. Who decides who's modest and who's not? Is there a modesty police patrolling the streets, ready to issue tickets for hemlines that are too high or necklines that are too low?

In the end, modest dressing feels like a game with ever-changing rules and no clear winner. It's a wild goose chase, a never-ending quest for the elusive "right" way to cover ourselves up without stifling our individuality or succumbing to societal pressures.

So, pardon me if I roll my eyes the next time someone tells me to dress modestly. Until they can provide a definitive rulebook that's more than just a mishmash of arbitrary guidelines and contradictory expectations, I'll be over here, navigating the fashion wilderness on my own terms.

However, the subject of the matter - the ever-enigmatic saree - is a garment that manages to simultaneously conceal and reveal, all in the subtle art of draping. But wait, isn't modesty about covering up? Well, apparently not when it comes to the saree, where the blouse is the designated culprit while the rest of the ensemble gets a free pass to showcase skin in a tantalizing game of peekaboo.

Let's dissect this perplexing logic, shall we? So, according to the dress code regulations, it's perfectly acceptable for the blouse to plunge to the depths of the Grand Canyon in terms of neckline, or to flaunt a backless wonder that would make even a peacock blush. But heaven forbid those sleeves are missing, because, you know, bare arms are clearly more scandalous than a neckline that's plunging faster than the stock market in a recession.

Although it is quite fascinating how the absurd notion that a glimpse of cleavage is somehow less acceptable than a full-on display of skin from shoulder to waist is widely accepted today. Because, you know, who needs logic when we can just blame it on the age-old excuse of "men will be men"? Clearly, it's the responsibility of women to manage the uncontrollable urges of the opposite sex, rather than, oh I don't know, holding those men accountable for their own actions?

And darling, how are we to forget the cherry on top of this absurd sundae: the idea that modesty is all about being classy and presentable. Because apparently, the length of your skirt or the depth of your neckline is a direct reflection of your moral character and worth as a human being. Forget about intellect, kindness, or talent—apparently, all that matters is how much skin you're showing.

So, here's a respectful tip of the hat to society and all those who enforce these baffling rules. Bravo, honey, for managing to uphold a standard of decency that's about as clear as mud and about as logical as a cat trying to herd sheep. Keep doing you, while the rest of us continue to navigate this fashion conundrum with equal parts frustration and amusement. Cheers!