Zhanna Chalabayeva - Red Indian Sun

When we arrived from the airport, it was early morning, they carefully brought me tea, after tea, I lay down to take a nap, the flies would not let me rest, and I covered myself with a blanket right on top of my head. I heard some people come and the room was filled with people. Some woman pulled the blanket off my head and looked into my sleepy face, looked at me and covered again with the blanket.

I had the feeling of unreality of what was happening, some kind of magic, the kindness of nature towards me.

Then I woke up, took a shower and had lunch.

In the evening a young man, my future husband, was glowing with happiness.

– I am very glad that you came. And my dad is happy, – he said with tenderness in his voice.

– I’m glad too, honey.

– Tell me, did you like me? – He asked looking into my eyes.

– Yes, and you?

– Yes, my dear, I like you very much, – he said and kissed me for the first time.

During our dialogue, I noticed that he did not say a word about my mother.

“Probably, his mother is against me,” I thought, and fell asleep carelessly.

The next morning I sat on the bed, and a lot of people entered the room. These were the villagers. I was sleepy and felt shy. They were local women, grandmothers, and children, all of them, except for children and girls, were wearing Punjabi suites and dupatta, they had numerous bracelets on their hands, and good-quality Indian gold glittered in their ears, neck, and fingers.

They lined up against the wall so that everyone had enough space in the room, and looked at me in silence, not smiling and not blinking, as it seemed to me, some people looked at me. I was so shy and didn’t know where to hide from such attention. I looked away in confusion. They stood silently and did not move. Then I smiled at them, and they smiled back at me. Their visit ended, they turned around and left the room. When they came the next time, on the advice of my future mother-in-law, I touched the oldest women’s legs as a sign of respect. In response, they touched my head as a sign of blessing.

Then I, the young man, his brother, his sister, and her daughter went to Tohana to shop and bought me beautiful Indian clothes – I chose shalwar-kameez in marine blue and a shawl over my head – dupatta. On the way back, his sister, a pleasant girl, got off the bus, and we drove on to the village. From now on, I wore an Indian national dress. In the village, none of the married women wore European clothes.

Previously, I was not interested in Indian culture. Therefore, I did not know that a saree is not the only traditional outfit. In Haryana, women are rarely seen in a saree on a weekday. Rather, it is festive clothing. In everyday life, I saw only women in salvar-kameez and dupatta. Salvar-kameez means “pants and shirt”. In fact, a kameez shirt is most often a beautiful dress just above the knee, with different types of necklines and sleeve length, decorated with embroidery and gold threads. It is worn with salwar, which are often the same color as the top, but there are also different colors, there are form-fitting, it all depends on the design. In stores, shalwar-kameez are sold in one set with a dupatta color in harmony with the outfit.

The most magical detail in Indian women’s clothing is dupatta. It creates a mysterious image of a woman, hides her face, protects from annoying glances and from the sun.

Dupatta is a long scarf of the finest fabric. Married women cover their heads with a dupatta, and unmarried girls fashionably oblige a scarf around their neck and chest.

I noticed that when a married woman sees a man older than her, she covers her face with a dupatta. In particular, my mother-in-law covered her face as soon as some grandfathers entered the house. At such moments she looked very feminine.

Fabrics in India are always of good quality. The production of fabrics there has been calculated for thousands of years, cotton has been used since the third millennium BC. In ancient times, people living in the territory of modern India discovered the special properties of plants that give different colors to fabrics. Since then, the paint has been used in the manufacture of fabrics. Thus, India became the first country on the planet where multicolored fabrics appeared. It is also known that in India men painted their beards in the most unexpected colors.

Salwar-kameez, or Punjabi Suite, which I bought on the second day of arrival in India, I chose myself. It was aquamarine, satin, chiffon and with gilded patterns sewn onto the fabric. Dupatta was the same color of chiffon.

In the village, men of different ages wear a white ensemble of a long shirt and pants.

In the cold weather in India, I saw a lot of men who walked wrapped in a blanket.

Urban youth most often dress in the same way as in the West.

The shops in Tohana sell all kinds of clothes: national outfits and fashionable dresses, tops and jeans. Compared to other countries, clothing in India is cheap, but the quality is at its best.

Footwear in India is also national and ordinary. In the village, people walk in shales, wear national shoes or European shoes embroidered with stones and rhinestones to celebrations.

My future husband in the heat and in the cold, at the wedding and the police wore tight sports sneakers, put on thick socks. When I offered to buy other shoes, he bought himself new sports sneakers, which differed from the previous ones only in the color of the laces. His friends who came to us were shod in good-quality men’s sandals and fashionable shoes.

Together with salwar-kameez, I bought gorgeous ballet shoes in the national Indian style, embroidered with gold rhinestones, through which colored threads were intertwined with snakes.

On the streets, you can see men with a beautiful turban on head.

I walked through the market and looked at the passers-by. I could not believe that I was in the real world. It seemed to me that I was in an oriental tale or on the set of a film.

I noticed that Indian people have rare beauty, delicate features, large eyes with infinitely long doll eyelashes.

In the village of Samain, I saw the stunning beauty of a woman of about fifty. She had huge emerald eyes framed by two-centimeter velvet eyelashes, olive skin color, and all facial features harmoniously combined with each other as if painted by a talented artist. On her head she carried a metal basin, not holding it with one hand. It was evident that she was engaged in physical labor, but even her tired look did not hide her natural beauty, but, on the contrary, emphasized.

Often I looked at my Dadi and admired her. A thin, toned face with large blue eyes and a straight nose. Grandma was already ninety years old. But the sculpture of her face has not changed since her youth. There were deep wrinkles on her face. And in the bottomless eyes, the naughty light of former youth played. Still, only the body is aging, and the soul remains forever at the age when the person loved the last time.

* * *

Before bed, I tactfully asked me to bring a sheet and a duvet cover. But Tenardieu said that they did not use sheets and duvet covers in the house.

He slept on a synthetic bedspread and covered himself with a thick blanket. All the guests visiting the house were lying on the same bedspread during the day or sitting with their feet.

The next day, the young man’s mother smiling brought me a beautiful sheet of yellow satin fabric with blue flowers and a golden pattern. But she said that they were not sleeping on this, but, on the contrary, they sometimes covered the bed for beauty during the daytime.

How did I suffer in my soul when guests came to the house and lay down on our pillows with head, and someone did not hesitate to fold unwashed feet. The fact is that there was no spare pillowcase either, and instead of a pillowcase, I laid out one of the new hand towels that I brought with me. But it was still unpleasant, and it seemed to me that then the pillow smelled of someone’s feet.