“TeaThe cap is a very nice shirt you’re wearing,” I said to my postgraduate student, Krishna Kumar. “And it must have cost a penny. What’s the opportunity?” It seemed that Krishna was a little angry. “I have a job interview in the afternoon. I tell you, you don’t even take me seriously in an interview if I don’t dress well.”
This is a conversation I had when I was teaching in Madras Christian College. Krishna came to visit me at my residence on the campus, soon after the new session began, nothing unusual in MCC in those days. I tried to make him comfortable by exchanging happiness with him, but it was clear that Krishna was not used to it. “Let me tell you why I have come to visit you. I am in dire need of money to continue my studies,” he said. “Can you help me? My father earns enough to support the family. He managed to pay my fees for BA course, but cannot go beyond that. ,
menial work
I reflected for a moment. I wanted to help Krishna, because I knew he was intelligent and studious. So, I asked him, “Can you type?” “Yes, sir,” he replied. “Then, come and help me with some typing three times a week. I will pay ₹25 every month.”
This was a decent amount as supplementary earnings in those days when the salary of a professor was ₹600 per month. Krishna readily accepted.
After the course and academic session was over, Krishna kept in touch with me. A few months later, I received an encouraging letter from him saying that he had found a good job with a good salary. He continued: “It’s not the economics that helped me, but the testimonials you gave me, in which you mentioned my typing ability.”
The faculty at MCC were not specifically noted for their dress code. Even the principal wore just a “bush coat” and pants. I kept reflecting on what I had learned from Krishna and wanted to apply. I thought I would try Khadi. Gone are the days when Khadi was only a white shirt and it was easily available. Pants were a problem, but they could also be managed with some effort. Inquiries were being made about whether there was some hidden motive behind my move towards Khadi! After two years I left Khadi. After all, wearing Khadi was a personal experiment.
Society also seems to have gone beyond the dress code stage. More and more varieties of clothing are available and they are no longer a status symbol. Motor cars occupied that position for some time, whether you had one in the early stages or not, followed by “what to make” in the next. Perhaps today, status is determined by whether an official car picks you up or not. That too soon.
It also raises the question of whose value system is reflected in these questions. Certainly not the majority, whose concerns are food for the day, shelter for the night and work for tomorrow. Think about it.
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