时间：2022-06-18 08:06:01
a friend who was visiting india after a lapse of many years said that he was quite taken aback by the many changes he saw in india’s urban landscape， which itself was rapidly expanding to bring hitherto rural areas into its embrace.
My friend noted that while previously indian roads boasted no more than three or four locally-made cars， now there were literally dozens of imported makes of automobiles in evidence， including the super-luxury Maybach， which retails for something like five crore， and don’t expect any change back.
And it was not just cars that he spoke about， but all manner of foreign goods that were available in the hundreds of malls that had cropped up all over the place. But most of all my friend was struck by urban india’s newfound love for， literally， high living. he was referring to the skyscrapers—many of them luxury condominiums—that had sprung up like giant stalagmites all across.
even before Mukesh Ambani moved into his 27-storey， 7-star des res in Mumbai， super-luxury high-rises became the in thing， not only in Mumbai but also in Gurgaon and in all other parts of the country.
They’d become india’s latest status symbols. But with so many of them around， how can you tell which has more， or less， status than the next. not being a pal of Mukesh—or for that matter of anyone who lives in super-luxury style—i’ve never actually been inside one of these bijou residences. So how do i know that any particular apartment block i happen to be looking at from the outside—like the one i was passing the other day in Gurgaon—belongs to the super-luxury class？ Simple.
i， or indeed anyone else， can gauge a particular residence’s status on the luxury ladder by the clothes favoured by its inhabitants. That’s how i knew that the high-rise i was passing—often named Palm Springs， Miami Mansions， hollywood heights， something on those lines—belonged to not just the super-luxury but to the super-duper luxury class： the clothes worn by the people living in it had probably more bling than the gold souk in Abu dhabi. And that was just their lingerie， or， what in local parlance is referred to as，‘underveers’.
The residents of the high-rise weren’t having an impromptu fashion show on their balconies in their scanties. Gurgaon in the winter months is too cold for such skin shows. The reason that i knew the intimate sartorial preferences of the people living in that high-rise was because the residents had， literally， let it all hang out： from the balcony of every flat was draped on public display the laundry of each household—saris， kurtas， lehengas， banyaans， kutchchas， the works.
It’s not just people who live in super-luxury high-rises who do it. All indians do it， whether it is highrise， low-rise， or no-rise. we hang out our washing on what might be referred to as the See-free line： everyone’s free to see the contents of our wardrobes， washed and hung out to dry for the world to look at. it’s a generic indian trait that cuts across barriers of caste， class and creed. rich or poor， jhuggi-jhopri or Taj Mahal Towers， everyone does it. it’s an inherent indian trait， encoded in our dnA. Like belief in ritual pollution， or not eating food with the left hand. The moment we do our laundry we have to put it out to dry where everyone can see it.
why do we do it？ is it because of the prevalence of scams？ do we consciously or subconsciously want to show our neighbours and the wide world at large that we have no dirty linen to hide but only the clean variety， strung up in full public view for all to see？ Perhaps. But this national trait has been in evidence long before scams became the country’s most popular spectator sport， overtaking even iPL.
if Laundrygate precedes Scamgate， what is the causative factor behind it？ why do we let it all hang out when it comes to our washing？ in smaller， less affluent households， scarcity of space makes the public drying of laundry a necessity. But what about middleclass and upper-class， and superclass households， where there is no shortage of space to accommodate a clothes-drying room tucked away from public view？ why do the Manhattan Suites and Piccadilly Penthouses of india look like the flagbedecked Un General Assembly in new York City， except that the pennants that our luxury high-rises flaunt are pantsuits and pyjamas？
The reason is our famed indian hospitality. we want to invite the whole world and its brother into our homes and our lives. As we can’t do that， for obvious reasons， we do the next best thing. we give the world a ringside view of our private lives as represented by the clothes we wear， jangias， petticoats， bodices and all.
feel free to check out the Suraiya residence. You’ll have no problem identifying it. it’s the one with the Size 30 Jockey briefs drying up front.