With 12 ministers of Tamil origin at the centre, it seems only apt that this column look at the veshti, a piece of cloth that is approximately 3.65 square metres long, which is wrapped around the waist, sarong style. And it seems even more apt that, down in Tamil Nadu, there is a genus of the garment called 'Minister veshti', replete with borders in party colours. Ministers belonging to the Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam sport veshtis with red and black borders; those owing affiliation to the dmk's bitter rival All India Anna Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam sport ones with black, white and red borders; the Pattali Makkal Katchi's cadres prefer ones with a wide green border bisected by a thin yellow line and with a thin red line on top.

The best-known of all Minister veshti brands is Sarathy, from the temple-town of Madurai in Tamil Nadu. Finance Minister Chidambaram, however, doesn't wear a Minister veshti. He prefers a variety called Paramas that is all but borderless; it boasts a border, but the weave is in white, and cannot be noticed.

In a country as given to symbolism as India, it isn't surprising that the polity should choose to wear white. The jump from that to what is called national dress, the kurta-pajama, the dhoti, and the veshti is but a hop and skip away (although people dressed thus would definitely have a problem hopping or skipping). After all, white slacks belong in the navy, the judiciary, hotels, and the front seats of cars. The corollary, or angavastram-a matched accompaniment to the veshti, another piece of cloth, albeit smaller, usually worn like a shawl around the shoulders-to that theory about symbols is that only spotless white will do. Indian politicians wear kurtas and veshtis that are spotlessly white (wonder why detergent advertisers give both a miss; the connection is pretty obvious). Veshtis are bleached, and bleached, and then re-bleached, till they are spotlessly white. The Sarathy veshti, for instance, hurts the eye with its sheer whiteness.

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Apart from politicians, most South Indian men wear veshtis for comfort, and on formal occasions. It isn't easy keeping one's veshti on, and that could be one reason for the younger generation to eschew the garment. Belts help-these range in colour from the conservative black or brown to the trendy white, and could veer towards bilious sea green in some cases; most have pockets for money-and one innovative company has launched veshtis with Velcro pads to obviate the need for a belt. Handloom veshtis rule (polyester ones that once threatened to overwhelm the market are now almost extinct and silk ones are worn only during weddings or by the very very rich), as do fashion trends. Chiffon veshtis, for instance, are now in with the happening crowd in the South.

Veshtis with gold thread woven into the borders (zari veshtis) are worn largely during weddings or other functions. At South Indian weddings, the groom invariably sports a veshti with a mayilkannu (peacock's eye, literally; semantically, the Tamil word for the colours on the plumage of the bird) border; it has a maroon zari border on one side and a green one on the other, and can be worn any side up. Zari veshtis could cost anything from Rs 400 for one with a thin gold line to Rs 5,000 (for a four-inch gold border). Chennai's Nalli Chinnasami Chetty Store has a silk veshti that retails for Rs 10,000 but it is meant exclusively as an offering to the reigning deity of Tirupati, Balaji. Go ahead, try a veshti; it's your one chance to wear the garment of the Gods.