unmarried women are actually children cleverly disguised as grownups

Today was a very nice day, mainly because there was lots of hanging out around the neighborhood which was interesting, informative, and fun. This morning went over to Sumathi's house to look at the dozens of new saris she recently received. Her mother-in-law died last week and the tradition here is that female friends and relatives give saris to the female relative of the deceased. Then all her friends come over and dig through the mountain of saris critiquing each one and looking at how much people paid for them. Each sari still had the price tag and a name tag attached telling the name and address of the person giving it. Then the next time someone has a death in the family, the woman will go and give a sari of the same or similar value. Watching everyone judge the saris was especially entertaining, and I got to know what is considered ugly, what designs are considered too busy, etc. This is particularly useful information considering that Deepavali is coming up next month and I am going to have to buy saris for people. I learned that saris "lighter than a bun" are bad, as are saris which are "so thin they could be used as fish nets"; you'll have to take my word for it that this all sounds way funnier in Tamil than in English.

After the sari critiquing took place, I ended up going to town with Tamilarasi and Chellapandi as T. and I still needed to buy saris for Sumathi. As we were shopping I noticed that C. and T. were picking out saris which I considered completely hideous, but the same could be said for how they felt about my selections! I seem to go for way too much hot pink in their opinion, and they are telling me to at least go for black or some dark color sometimes. (Speaking of dark colors: after shopping we went to the temple and I had to wait outside the inner sanctum because non-Hindus are not allowed. C. and T. emerged from the inner sanctum with a plan: if I would just dye my hair black I could put on a sari, a bindi, some gold, and braid my black hair and walk right on into the inner sanctum disguised as a "north Indian"! They were super excited about this plan, convinced that it would work. While I don't want to put the equivalent of shoe polish on my hair, I am sure people would be happy as brown hair is considered to be inferior/ugly here).

We were downtown for 5 hours and only now just got back. I've only got one sari for Sumathi and an inskirt for myself to show for all that walking and haggling. There were some other things I needed to buy, like a container for sandalwood paste and an incense holder. We were quoted a total of Rs. 17 for these two items which I thought was a steal. But C. and T. assumed we were being cheated because I am white and they summarily rejected these items at every juncture. I came home empty-handed.

I was excited to come home and give Sumathi the sari, but the local ladies said I shouldn't give her a sari because I am an "age attend pannap ponna" (girl who has reached puberty; DUH, I am 28) and I am NOT MARRIED. This actually really hurt my feelings, even though I know I shouldn't take this personally. There are times when you are treated as an extra-social and extra-cultural entity as a foreigner, which can sometimes be good. But then there are times in which you really want to be considered part of the community and you are refused access because of criteria that people here take for granted but that foreigners like me might take personally. I know that I shouldn't take it personally, but it's how I felt. Now this sari is sitting here and I don't know if I will give it to her tomorrow. I don't know if it's considered unlucky for her, or unlucky for me if I give it. But I have the feeling that in this situation I am considered inauspicious and it's not a nice feeling.

The fact of the matter is that people here feel that a woman becomes an adult, and indeed a whole person, only when she is married. Before that she is merely a "teenage ponna" (teenager!) no matter her age. Even though I am 28 years old, make my own money, live alone, and travel the world by myself, none of this matters in terms of my being considered an adult and a full member of the community simply because I am not married. It's just the way it is, but it still stings sometimes. And it could be worse: I could be a widow or a divorcee.

pul irunthaalum purushan
kal irunthaalum kanavan

Better to be married to grass than have no husband at all.
Better to be married to a stone than to have no husband at all.

-Tamil Proverb.