Punjabi pag shines through!

JS Raghavan 

There was a time when orthodox Brahmin lawyers in  Tamil Nadu sported a tuft. It was de rigueur to keep it under a snow-white turban when appearing in a court of law. My father, being a lawyer and a tufted one, had to wear a turban to represent litigants. Though adept in the labyrinthine sections of the civil codes, when it came to tying a turban,  he blinked like a toddler unable to put on his shirt.

And so, his junior did the honour of tying the turban in proxy. Two factors aided this service. His head was of the same size as my father’s, and his home was round the corner. Now and then, I would carry two starched and ironed turban material, riding my imaginary 1.5 HP Royal Enfield. My father’s junior would stand at the centre of his hall and tie the trailing material around his head, pirouetting on his toes like a prima ballerina. When it was done, he would look up at the photographs of his forefathers, all lawyers, and seek their approval on the outcome of the turban. If he detected even as little as a surly twitch of the upper lip, he would unwind it and re-do it. When the job was done to the satisfaction of three generations, he would carefully remove and hand them with the air of an artisan passing on a crown for  coronation. I carried  it  gingerly, making sure nothing happened en route to make them collapse.

The sight of several lawyers  congregating in the court was appealing. I used to imagine who resembled the Nobel Laureate CV Raman, Dewan CP Ramaswami Iyer or (later, President) Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, to name a few.

Though I knew about the inside story of a white turban lawyers wore in Madras (now Chennai), I was blissfully unaware of the ones the Sikhs wore. All I knew was that they were colourful and perhaps longer when unwound. Did the varying hues  signify anything? What is done with them when going to bed? Will there be anyone to assist the one who cannot tie his own, like my father?

I was happy when a sardarji got into my first class compartment of the Madras-Howrah mail. Ah! Here is a chance to know what that gentleman would do. But to my disappointment, the TTR allotted him a berth in a different bay.

At a glittering Marwari wedding I attended in Calcutta, I saw a booth in which one turban artist was making ready-to-wear turbans. The per capita fee was impressive; more money than one will get in free-lance writing.  Many doubts regarding the Punjabi pag were cleared by Google. The lawyers of Madras do not have tufts and ergo no milky-white turbans. Marwaris wear them only during ceremonial occasions. But sardarjis wear them daily, as a matter of right, wherever they are, for their proud identity. Bravo!