Sorting out my Wardrobe

I have a dream of sorting out my wardrobe at the beginning of each season.

Going down the memory lane of my Childhood

It was the summer of 1999. My mum sat in one of the rooms of our bungalow in the valleys of Kashmir. She had a mission, a mission of sorting out the wardrobes, a ritual she would follow at the beginning of each season. The day she would choose to sort her wardrobe was a celebratory day for everyone. For my mum, it was a day of triumph because her wardrobe was finally cleared of the stuff that she didn’t need. It was a day of delight for us because our mummy was too busy, so it meant extra time to play outside. And for our maid, who would walk as if she’s been given the stars and moon, her day would be more joyful than any of us; after all, she was the one getting all the taken-out clothes.

You see, I come from an Army family in Pakistan. Unlike Western countries, in many Asian countries, for example, Pakistan, people from the upper and the middle class hire maids and servants to work for them. Maids and servants are hired to do everyday chores, including but not limited to, cleaning the house, washing the dishes, doing the laundry, watering the garden, driving, cleaning the car, etc. They are usually poor and work on low wages. The number of servants and maids and the number of chores included in their duties depend on the salary and financial status of those hiring them.

As the maids and servants are financially not very stable, it is a common practice to gift them hand-me-downs. For as long as I can remember, I have observed my mother giving her old clothes to our maids. I remember my mum used to tell me that she had observed her mum doing it all her life as well, and it wasn’t just mere habit that made her do this. It was a tradition that she had inherited from her mum, and it helped her keep her mum alive in her memories.

Fast Forward to the last few years

It was the spring of 2016 when I moved to the UK. Although my whole family still lives in Pakistan, it was love that made me travel continents and settle in a country I have never been to before. As soon as I moved here, I noticed that the culture of the UK is very different from that of Pakistan. Imagine my shock when I realized I had to clean the toilet myself, but that’s the discussion for another day. I also understood that there was no one I could directly gift my old clothes to. Although many charity shops accepted donated stuff, there was a dilemma: my clothing style. I wear a mix of what we call ‘English clothes’ and ‘Pakistani clothes.’ The English clothes that I wear to work, university, etc. were easy to donate. Many charity shops were available that would accept these clothes.

I had trouble giving away my ‘Pakistani clothes’ or ‘Asian Wear’ that usually includes ‘kurta shalwar and dupatta (Shirt, trouser and a scarf)’, but may also include dresses like ‘ghararas, lehngas, or saree’. As this type of clothing is not common in the UK, there are no charity shops or donation points where a person can donate these clothes. Since there was no apparent use out of my used Pakistani clothes, there were less frequent wardrobe cleanings, and clothes taken out as a result of these cleanings were being thrown away. But the tradition of gifting hand-me-downs to the needy, that Pakistani girls inherit from their mother was slowly dying.

My trip to Pakistan in October 2021

It was the autumn of 2021 when I went to see my parents in Pakistan, and something happened that helped me in shaping my dream of both; to help the needy of my country and keep the tradition of gifting hands-me-down alive.

I was sitting watching the TV while the maid was cleaning the home. As she was walking out of the room, her Kurta (shirt) got stuck with one of the nails and got ripped. This is the conversation that happened:

Me: OHO Dhayaan say (OHO be careful)

Maid: Oh baji ji yay nazar he nhe aya (Oh madam I didn’t even see it)

Me: Chalo koi nhe may aik Kurta lai aty hun pehan lau (It’s okay don’t worry I will bring my kurta you can wear it)

I gave her a kurta, that she wore, but I noticed that she was putting the old, ripped kurta in a shopping bag.

Me: Yay phat gaya hai isay phaink dau (It’s ripped, throw it away)

Maid: Baji koi nhe isay see kar pehan lun gi chota he surakh hai waisai bhi mjhe yay jora abhi kuch maheenay pehnana hai may naya kahan say laon gi (Madam, don’t worry it’s only a minor rip, I will stitch it and wear it. I have to this dress for a few months where will I buy a new one from)

She said in a matter-of-fact tone because that was the reality of her life. Spending money for a new suit was a luxury she could not afford. And that’s when it hit me, all these years I had been so naïve to think that the tradition of sorting the wardrobes was for our benefit. If we clear out our wardrobes, we will have much room and cleaner wardrobes for new things.

In reality, it was a way of offering help to someone who works as hard as any of us but doesn’t have the money to buy clothes that are taken for granted by so many. The few suits that they get from others must last them for a few months. These suits are worn by them and must get ripped and mended until they cannot be mended any more. They wait for people to gift them, hands-me-down, or risk not eating several meals to save money to buy them.

Sleep didn’t come easily to me for the next few days. Her one sentence woke up the conscience that had been sleeping in the life of luxury, that I had been living continents away. Thoughts of her life of suffering, and those of many around her kept flashing in my eyes like the thoughts of a long-lost friend.

My Dream

This incident gave birth to inspiration. Instead of throwing away my ‘Pakistani clothes’ I should find a way to somehow gift them to the maids, servants, or anyone needing them in Pakistan. It would be just like my mum had been doing ever since we were children. I came back to the UK and instantly started my research; It was hard to keep the dresses aside for the trips to Pakistan because they are not very frequent and have a weight limitation. I started looking for companies that I could use to send stuff to Pakistan. I found a few companies that can do it for £1.50 for a kg. 1 kg can have one or two complete sets of suits (kurta, shalwar, and dupatta) depending on the material of the suits, so for the price of £10 I can send nearly 10-15 dresses to Pakistan. This would be enough to last someone the whole season.

I discussed my idea with my family and friends in the UK and quickly realized that many around me were throwing away their used Pakistani clothes. I asked around for old clothes so I could send them to Pakistan. So far, I have managed to make 40 kg worth of clothes that will be distributed to the needy in my Pakistani neighborhoods. As I am writing this, I am busy packing for the first shipment, which is due in the second week of February.

It is winter of 2022, nearly two decades later since I saw my mum sorting the wardrobe and I finally understand the reason for triumph on her face. It wasn’t because she had managed to clean the mess. It was because she knew her small gifts meant the world to someone. I have finally managed to clear out my wardrobe and wardrobes of so many around me and the feeling of excitement is the same that I always used to see in my mother’s after she is done with her cleaning. It is the feeling of knowing that whoever will get the clothes will walk as if they have been gifted the stars and the moon.