Sari, Not Sorry
Two weeks to go and the surprises keep coming. Week three started out with a visit to Freeset, a company similar to Destiny in practice, though on a much larger scale. Tess and I had been researching screen printing machines for Destiny to acquire when we were directed toward Freeset for some neighborly advice. It was incredible how organized the whole operation was and how eager everyone there was to help, even offering Destiny training. The day took a dark turn, however, when the location of the business was explained to us. Being that Freeset employs former sex workers, whether trafficked or economically inclined, it was established in the heart of the brothel area. We were shown towering apartment buildings crammed in an expanse as far as the eye can see with a mere point out the window identifying the brothels. Upon leaving the building, one of my co-workers grabbed my hand and pulled me close, informing me that we would be walking through the foremost location, above Paris, for high end prostitutes from all over the world, for which men pay up to one million rupees per encounter. She said I would likely be taunted by men asking me how much or reaching out for me. In high school, I was taught that I could deter any unwanted attention by collapsing on the ground to eat grass while mooing like a cow, though I suppose making a fool of myself by eating asphalt is a good alternative when grass is nowhere to be seen. I bring this up because while I experienced no such harassment, I can’t say the same for embarrassment considering I proceeded to trip and fall in the middle of the street, so I’ll just rule that mission accomplished.
Moving on, we also visited the community center for the first time. There are women, similarly from brothel concentrated areas, who work for Destiny while undergoing job training and English lessons in their pursuits of future aspirations. They were all so welcoming, serving biscuits and tea while passing around their portfolios. I was in awe of how obviously each individual’s personality was able to come through the sample designs that were all made from the same templates and fabrics. Whether one added a lace trim to their petticoat or pleated the skirt on their dress, each like garment was still completely unique, making their designer so proud to recognize it as their own with acknowledgement of every intentional stitch. We also returned to the shelter home where the girls immediately recognized me as Monalisa, preferring it to Marialisa, and were not ashamed to school me in dance. It was there that I was first referred to as “di,” short for “didi,” a term of endearment synonymous with “sister.” This was immediately followed by the full “didi” the next day back at the community center. I can’t even begin to explain how happy that made me, knowing that these young ladies trusted me enough to consider me family, I immediately ran to brag to my co-workers. Oh, and I also visited an elephant sanctuary, walked through the Taj Mahal, and stopped by a former Formula 1 track, but all of that pales in comparison.
With all that accomplished came time for celebration. First was the Fourth of July, for which Smarita took our entire apartment out for dinner and dancing at her friend’s club. Then came Smarita’s birthday when the entire office took the morning to decorate for an afternoon of two rounds of cake and confetti, first as a business, then around family and friends. Finally came the preparations for the Destiny party. How many can we invite? Where will it be held? What activities should we host? And, most importantly, what would we wear? I was so eager to purchase a sari, but when considering the cost and fact that I would have no use for it back home, I opted to borrow the sari from Destiny’s collection and have a custom blouse made for underneath. I ended up ordering two tops, one to pair with the sari and one that I designed to wear back home. It was surprisingly economical, and a keepsake investment I was happy to make.
