In olden days India was prosperous, people where happy to get one langot (a horrible undergarment) and a dhoti (a even horrible over garment) but then the British could not see it through and with that they brought ships and ships full of zippers, pant buttons and clothes. When the freedom struggle ended, the Brits left shamed and angry and to take revenge left the final nail in the coffin, the fashionable clothes.
It was a fitting revenge, the untamed world now knew shame and pants. It was a slow poison for the destruction of the greatest Indus valley civilisation. A slow depression that would bring with it, new clothes, trends and horrible accessories.
The new trends bring with it scary moments, how many times have you been asked by the barber carrying the sharp razor, "Would you like to try strawberry face cream?" he politely asked. I stared at him, eye the razor.
Every female you meet in your life, your mother, your sister and your girlfriend or your wife will point out at every waking moment of your life that you have a bad fashion sense.
'We are going for a movie,' I tried to argue.
'So what you will wear this plain old T-shirt and jeans?' she argued.
'The T-Shirt is just 6 months old,' I brought my best argument in the picture.
'You know... when I was buying you a new t shirt last week, you were busy in your phone...' she argued back.
I wanted to tell her, it is biologically impossible for a man to identify all the colours a woman can see in the world, how do I choose between the two green shirts, I was going to argue with this, but sadly there is no materialistic cure for woman's rolling eyes.
Now can someone tell me, in the four hours of our meeting, I'll be spending 3 hours in the darkness of the theater, why should I dress up for that, beats me?.
If this was confusing enough, my mom started, 'That half pant is from your college days, why are you still wearing it?'
'Its night time, and I am just going to sleep now, who cares if I even wear the pant at all...' I argued.
'You are an engineer for god-sake, please act like one...' she shouted.
'What has my degree got to do with my pants?' it was an innocent question, and no harm done.
I thought that was the end of it, but no, the next day when i came to office, the same half pant was fulfilling its destiny by wiping the floor with it. It broke my heart. My mind actually sobbed to see the loyal pants which saved by private parts for 6 years.
This fashion trend creates so much confusion, nowadays it is hard to differentiate a Male from a Female, walking on the street. Girls sporting boy-cut and boys attempting to grow and iron their hair.
I once told this problem told the wise man who drank the free coffee at the pantry with me, 'This has turned into a critical issue man...' I said.
The wise man replied, 'No way, brother...I have a simple solution for this problem.'
He silently enlightened, 'Suppose you are walking down the street and you see a girl and boy walking. Now you want to know which is which, so a simple test will prove it. All you have to do is, go near them and tell an adult joke...' he said.
I looked at him with wide eyes.
'...whoever is ashamed by that adult joke is definitely a boy...' the wise man concluded.
I now realised why he was slapped yesterday on the street.
The fashion trends change so drastically that I once saw a complete rainbow in the hair colour of a girl in just two months. When I met a girl with pink hair in the conference, it was hard to believe she was a big authority in cloud computing. I assumed she was some college student and did not take her seriously, resulting in her furious comeback,
'You know what you are...' she shouted, 'A hair-color-racist. You discriminate people based on their hair-color... you should be locked away in a prison far far away for hair crimes.'
She did not specify who will be the guard at the prison, black haired people or pink haired people, but I thought its not wise to ask.
I am not sure where this fashion policing will lead the humanity, but I am a simple man, who still believes that it does not matter what you wear, if you are awesome enough. Ok, I am a simple man with complex taste, but awesome I am.