Bra- to those who don’t know(really?) is an undergarment worn to cover and support breasts. Its just like underwear and trust me when I say this, a good quality and well fitted bra is a luxury for women in today’s times. While many claim that the quality of the Bra actually accentuates a lady’s figure, I feel that the whole breast to bra thing is a mere strategy to enhance pain inflicted on my body.
I am not exaggerating here when I say that my whole pre-teen, teen, post teen years were troublesome in the arena. I am well endowed everywhere(I am talking about fat content on my body of course) and my boobs enjoy the same adjective-endowed. However, if your sole teacher in this area was your mommy dearest, who was thin and lanky in her teenage years to adulthood, she had technically no idea what was going on with her overweight daughter. Add to this cauldron that our so called ‘brassiere’ shop’s name was called “She” in Ajmer. The bhaiyaji(brother- a term used for addressing any shop owner in India) who used to sell the said material screamed unconventionality in many volumes in a conservative city called Ajmer. In a female dominated market, “She”was a shop where women sellers were nowhere to be found. There were no changing rooms in “She” because the shop was miniscule. Women from all walks of life, buying bras for all sorts of reasons- from the sleazy first nights to the sturdy basket ball games- would seek solid support from “She”. This shop could barely fit two customers, and you were practically on the road with honking scooters and rowdy cyclists when buying the most important piece of your closet. The bhaiyaji would ask you your size, will try to keep his face straight and then announce your size to his chotu(technically means small chap, normally referred to a person working for you or your child, depending upon the situation) located in the upper storage area-marked by a hole in a ceiling.
“Chotuuuu size XX of brand YY dena!”[Chotuuu, give me size XX of brand YY!] he would scream after looking at you from top to bottom in a non-sexual way, and Chotu whose face I have never seen in all these years would drop a box from the hole in the ceiling. In my size, colors were limited and this was the best shop that could provide me my garment. Bhaiyaji could suggest you another size if in his opinion you were asking for the wrong one. He had magical powers, he could only do that with a glance!
Mommy dearest on my side-my shopping partner from hell- would be passing silent judgments on my queries and color choices if I had any color choices so as to speak. It will be an understatement to proclaim that till my graduation, I have worn the wrong size and one of the following colors- black, white and nude. I felt extremely uncomfortable and uneasy almost three quarters of my miniature life span. “She” was also the shop from where all- and I mean ALL my classmates and female teachers would buy their undergarments from, if they are buying their stuff from Ajmer. To give you clarity, I was in a girls’ only school. It was an exhaustive process of going to “She” and select something which was so personal to you. To emphasize the popularity of “She”, my mommy dearest, my aunt, my neighbor, and my hairdresser were all buying from that godforsaken shop. To further give you a wow moment- my sister who was getting married at that time- got her honeymoon underlings from “She” as a gift from my mommy dearest- WOW!
Certainly Business was booming.