A group of six guys have taken to lungis to make a statement against the discrimination shown towards the labour class.
It’s not about eccentricity. Nor is it about any sacred custom. It’s all about conveying a social message. In Chennai, where dhotis and lungis are frowned upon, a bunch of youngsters sport the colourful lungi in public places such as malls and coffee outlets.
It may look a bit odd when Joshua Isaac (25), engineering student, combines the pink-flower-patterned lungi with his urban attire — branded shirt, Puma footwear, Adidas bag and Fastrack watch. “Today, this attire has come to symbolise oppression,” he says, clutching the sides of his lungi that falls full length till his feet. “And we want to change that,” he adds in a determined tone.
Subscribing to the same sentiments are five others — Gaurav Kumar, an employee at an MNC, Anandavalavan, an engineering student, Karthik Melancholy, creative director in an ad company and Makizhnan, employee at a media firm — who got to know each other through their participation in the various social activities organised in the city.
The friends are from varied backgrounds. Makizhnan’s father was a driver but hasn’t been in work for a while now. Gaurav is from a village in Sathyamangalam and his parents are into farming, while Joshua is from Vellore and his parents teach in a school there.
Being staunch followers of Ambedkar and Periyar ideologies, the group believes that the ‘so-called modern society’, which enjoys the ambience of malls and sky scrapers, are discriminating those on whose lands these buildings were constructed. Joshua says, “It is saddening that even the construction workers who helped construct the very building are restricted from entering it.”
According to Joshua, this lack of inclusive growth in the state has created a common public mindset that these people are undeserving and uncultured. Since these men are usually seen in lungis that suit their jobs, today, it has become a trademark of the downtrodden. “People equate lungi-clad men with rowdies and drunkards, who create nuisance in the public,” he says.
To revolutionise this mindset of people towards lungi, the group set on a mission to visit the top malls and coffee outlets in the city. Joshua still recalls the stir they created by randomly entering a café coffee day outlet in the city in lungis, three years ago. “We could sense the suspicious glances and whispers among the customers,” he says with a laugh. “Even the waiter was hesitant to take our orders,” he adds.
This incident, though could be ignored as a gag, brings out the deep divide among the classes, which exists in society, according to the group. “But, we don’t strictly wear lungi everywhere,” says Makizhnan with a laugh. “It’s only when we want to make a statement, we get together and go to malls in lungis,” he adds.
Joshua says that the group was never an organised collective. “We were just a bunch of friends discussing about the social code, when this issue brought an urge in us to do something,” says Joshua, who doesn’t hesitate to roam around the SRM campus in lungis after his class hours, despite the weird glances from his class mates.
Why don’t clubs allow people without shoes? Why don’t theatres and malls allow people in lungis? Who makes the rules, anyway? These questions provoked the rebel in them to set out to taste the pangs of discrimination themselves.
In yet another incident, they were stopped by the security personnel at the Express Avenue mall for being dressed in lungis. Appalled by the superficial decision taken by the security, based on their looks, they had stood outside for an hour seeking a written statement on why they weren’t being allowed inside, despite there being no dress code. On learning that they were students from prestigious colleges, eventually, they were let in. The security guard, who regarded it as an irony that they were educated and still wore lungis, later told them that letting them in would encourage people from the slums to come into the mall as well, which in turn would cause management issues.
Once inside, there were kids surprised to see a bunch of aliens, couples exchanging bemused looks, a few who consciously kept distance and a few more who stared in shock, says Joshua. “However, girls like the rebellious act. I have often noticed them look at us in awe,” he adds, blushing.
Most of their parents are not aware of the reason why they take to the lungi at times. Makizhnan says that his mom just takes it as a mischief, while Joshua’s parents know what he is up to and support his ideology. Gaurav’s parents, however, haven’t been supportive and have advised him to stop these social activities and ‘take care of his personal activities first.’
“This shows that they just don’t regard poor people as consumers,” says Makizhnan, who was born and brought up in Dharavi until he came to Chennai three years ago. Having been in the slums for the major part of his life, he says, that even today he feels odd going inside a mall and prefers buying clothes from street vendors.
The incident, the group explains, further brings about how society has tuned itself to classify a few things as strictly objectifying the poor.
The group now plans to make a Facebook page wherein it would decide on a place, a mall or a theatre, and ask people to show up in lungi on a particular day every month so as to make a statement. Phoenix, they say, is likely to be the next spot.
“Why should we oblige to the rules? After all, society is not a place that would remain silent forever. Silence can only be sought in a graveyard,” says the activist in Joshua, bringing his lungi up till his knees before tying a swift knot.
