The way we dress not only influences how others see us, but how we see ourselves. Along with conveying social identity, clothing has the ability to connect us to our culture and those within it.
Growing up in Mumbai, India, and in a family that practiced Sikhism, Jay Bagga, professor of computer science at Ball State University, was surrounded by a myriad of cultures and religions.
“Everyone was very tolerant and open to each other. It was not all birds of the same feather; it was quite a bit of variation,” says Bagga.
The clothing Bagga wears, including his turban, reflects his identity as a Sikh man.
Clothing and identity are closely related. A 2015 study published in the Clothing and Textiles Research Journal found that what someone wears is related to how they see themselves and their personalities.
Study participants were asked to rate photos of an individual’s clothing with a list of adjectives compiled by other participants. The results showed that most observers could accurately infer an individual’s personality based on just the clothing they selected.
Clothing is also important to many people’s religious identities. A 2016 paper published in the Journal of Empirical Theology examined Muslim and Jewish women’s perceptions of identitiy in relation to head covering. Women interviewed associated the practice of head covering with spiritual growth and identity.
Today, Bagga proudly wears his turban.
Bagga remembers learning how to tie a turban. In the downstairs bathroom of a two-story duplex, 10-year-old Bagga wrestled with the 5-by-1 yard piece of fabric.
Disappointed and frustrated, it would be a few days before he would try again. His older brothers continued to offer to help Bagga learn to tie his turban, but he refused. He would not even accept assistance from his brother Kuldip, despite their close-knit relationship.
“We were friends, siblings, but also rivals. I was determined to [tie a turban] on my own, and, you know, I wanted to show that I could do it better than Kuldip,” says Bagga.
After many failed attempts, one day he opened the bathroom door, ready to proudly present the turban atop his head to his family. A few months of at-home modeling and continued practice gave Bagga the confidence to wear his turban in public.
India is an emerging fashion market. A 2019 report by McKinsey & Company predicted the value of the fashion industry in India will increase to $59.3 billion by 2022. According to the report, traditional clothing accounted for 70% of women’s clothing sales in 2017, meaning the customary style was still the primary choice for Indian women.
Traditional Indian clothing is on full display in many Indian weddings. Being the youngest of seven siblings, Bagga attended countless wedding ceremonies with his parents and was dazzled by the elaborate and detailed attire.
The average guest list for an Indian wedding is 524, according to a 2019 report by Statista. This is more than double the amount of guests in any of the other top 13 countries, which include Mexico, The United States, and Brazil.
Bagga remembers attending weddings as a child. Everyone wore what they felt to be their best outfit. People often bought new fabric and had a tailor create a customized outfit for upcoming weddings and religious or cultural holidays. On these special occasions, the attire was decorated in complex embroidery and often made of silk or satin materials. At weddings, the bride and groom are the center of attention, dressed in lavishly embellished attire.
In India, wedding festivities can last up to three days. Before the wedding begins, the Baraat commences. The Baraat is a tradition where a groom arrives on a horse, elephant, carriage, or sometimes a convertible, to his wedding, accompanied by a parade of his family and friends.
“The groom was brought like a king on a horse, or a knight in shining armor,” says Bagga.
When Bagga married his wife, Daljit, the festivities spanned over two days. During that time, the couple participated in many rich cultural traditions, many of which involved intricate clothing.
On the first evening of the wedding, Bagga dressed in an intricately embroidered kurta pyjama,a traditional Indian two-piece outfit, and Sehra, a traditional Indian headdress and was loaded into an open-top, horse-drawn carriage. His Baraat had begun.
“I’m finally the one who’s getting married. I’ve seen other people in this role, and now I’m playing this role,” Bagga says, describing what was going through his head on his wedding day.
An accompanying band filled the boulevard with popular Bollywood music as the procession continued.
Most of the men in attendance wore kurta pyjamas similar to Bagga’s. The women either wore a sari, a 3-piece outfit that consists of an underlying top, a skirt and an overlaying 6-foot-long drape wrapped around the waist and swathed over one of the shoulders, or salwar kameez, a two-piece outfit consisting of pleated pants tapered at the ankles and a knee-length tunic top.
Once Bagga got to the home of Daljit’s family, the Milni ceremony, a time for the families to meet in a formal process, began.
Beginning with the eldest individuals on either side, coinciding members of each family greeted one another and exchanged gifts.
One gift commonly exchanged in the Milni ceremony is the mala, a strand of interwoven marigolds. The flowers of the Mala symbolize delight, fervor, beauty and love, and the thread depicts the couple’s devotion to the union.
The next day, Bagga awoke as a typical soon-to-be groom. He was filled with euphoria and elation, accompanied by a slight touch of wariness, as he put on his suit jacket, slacks, and blue undershirt. The rest of his life began today, alongside the love of his life, but the uncertainty of where the future would take them unsettled Bagga.
All traces of ambiguity dissipated the moment he saw Daljit.
With her long, brown hair in a braid draped along one shoulder, her light pink Lengha grazed the floor. A three-piece ensemble for ceremonial occasions, Daljit’s outfit was comprised of the lengha, a floor-length skirt, the chori, a short sleeve, fitted top, and a scarf called a dupatta.
Daljit’s dupatta covered the top of her head, a common practice in the Gurudwara. Meaning “God’s door,” the Gurudwara is a religious temple for those of the Sikh faith. Inside the temple, a congregation of 70 people awaited the union of the bride and groom.
Embossed in bangle sets, necklaces, earrings, embroidery and embellishment, Daljit glistened with gold ornaments. Extravagant art covered her arms and legs from the previous evening’s Mehndi ceremony, where female family members gathered with the bride. They decorated her skin with delicate designs of paisley and curving fractals using Mehndi, the Hindi word for henna.
Inside the Gurudwara, a Sikh temple, a congregation of 70 people awaited the union of the bride and groom.
“When you wear the dress, it brings you into a festive mood. You feel that you belong and now is the time to enjoy the festivities and your life,” says Bagga.
For Bagga and his wife, the clothing they wore to their wedding ceremonies acted as a symbol of their faith and their love for one another.
Although he doesn’t wear a heavily-decorated wedding ensemble every day, the clothing Bagga wears daily, especially his turban, expresses his true identity and is a reminder of the memories he has with traditional clothing.
