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The beauty of suggestion lies in the hints it alludes to as the mind wrestles with it’s wistful mistress – creativity.

Pehn-nay ki tameez honi chaheay; it’s not what you wear it’s how you wear it. And yet what is ‘it’?

In pardes I have worn skinny jeans, pleated khakis, baggy harem pants, cut offs and throwaways, scoop ins and flap outs, dresses of lace, of sheer soft grace but I have never felt as womanly, as elegant, as complete within my form as I have when wearing our much-maligned shalwar kameez. Yes, I too have complained about how only a man could’ve come up with such a prison for a woman, guzz upon guzz of cloth cut, folded, tweaked and moulded by the tiresome kapray, lace and rung waalay, and finally the formidable “master sahib”.

But I am tired of wearing “practical” clothes which were designed primarily for men, altered to placate women by flashing flesh. The elegance of a subtly draped dupatta, the dance of a breezily flowing kameez and the proceeds of a flouncy shalwar sing the song of ada; for the gulaab is far more amorous than the rose.