When I think of uniforms, I think of the Von Trapp family in The Sound of Music. A ship captain running his house like a ship where everyone marched like well-programmed robots, no one called anyone by their names and everyone was expected to answer to whistle signals.

I was a stranger to uniforms, till grade school at least. We had no uniforms in my school and my mother only had to dress me in a clean shirt and jeans or shorts before sending me off. I wore sneakers to school and I didn’t even have a school bag. We got no homework and my school books and notebooks I would leave behind in my desk at school.

In contrast there was my little sister, who wore a crisp white shirt with a gray skirt to school. She wore boring black shoes with white socks. In winters, from Nov 1 to Feb 28, she wore a red and blue striped tie and a gray cardigan or navy blue blazer, too. During games periods, she had to change into white shorts and PT shoes that she had to carry to school in a separate bag.

I believe she had four or five of every school uniform item. But she was growing so fast that she would outgrow everything in six to seven months. Then my mother would be on her rounds to the tailors and shoe shops, etc., to get fresh pairs made and bought for her. Imagine the amount spent to keep her in uniform?

The poor child was herself pretty conscious of her uniform. She wouldn’t get into any crazy mischief at school as she didn’t want to get her uniform dirty as she didn’t want our mother to wash and iron a fresh set for her everyday. So she would be wearing the same set for two days at least whereas I wore clean fresh clothes to school everyday. I had to follow no such regulations, I only had to concentrate on my studies and enjoy school. I also had no qualms about getting my clothes messy as I ran around with my friends in my school playground.

Then one day it was decided that I will be joining the British schooling system, too. My T-shirts, jeans and shorts I could only wear at home. Suddenly, I found myself in a crisp white shirt and gray trousers, black shoes and gray socks. My God! These people cut house points if your uniform was untidy and they rewarded points, too, if you were neatly dressed. Oh, the embarrassment of having my little sister teach me how to knot a tie! It was as good as putting someone into a straight jacket. And as if the uniform wasn’t enough … I couldn’t grow my hair long, either.

I was told by my elders that uniforms were smart. I was shown the 23rd of March parade on television to understand how perfect and disciplined everyone looked in uniforms. But that was the uniforms of the armed forces. I didn’t belong in the armed forces, neither did I want to. I also could not ignore the uniforms worn by the loaders or coolies in their red clothes and turbans running alongside trains carrying people’s luggage, the peons sitting outside offices in their wrinkled gray or brown uniforms and the policemen with huge stomachs pulling up their constantly slipping trousers every other second. So uniforms aren’t always ‘smart’.

And whatever happened to feeling at ease and comfortable in your clothes? Whatever happened to one’s individuality? Later on in life, unless you are going to get a job that requires you to wear a uniform, you will be wearing normal clothes, according to your taste and moods. I think kids should accept the different preferences of different people from an early age. They should understand that everyone is unique. That’s where tolerance will be developed in them. That’s where they’ll appreciate freedom of expression.