I often feel that I am part of a blessed generation. A whole generation of people to whom the world gave a huge dose of the WOW factor. We’ve seen more innovations, more inventions, more horizons and more vistas than any generation before us, and quite possibly more change than any of the future generations will see.

The list of things that enthralled us during our lifetime is too long to enumerate but one colorful story begs to be told.

I have no idea whether people wore undergarments a few centuries ago. I have no idea what they adapted into crude little support mechanisms. But yes, it was during our lifetime that the undergarment revolution took place. While the ladies evolved from being corset slaves to being lingerie princesses with dark secrets to hide in the privacy of a blush, the men moved up from jockstraps to Y-Fronts and Boxers.

I would in fact go so far as to say that in the last 50 years, undergarments have changed shape so drastically that they barely resemble what they started off as. A lot of science and technology has been infused into the designs and cognizance has been taken of a multitude of body types and fashion requisites.

But all these changes have remained a personal domain, to be appreciated by the wearers only…and perhaps some of the romantically inclined who may have had the opportunity to disrobe their partners from time to time. No, this blog is not swinging towards any kind of ‘kiss and tell’ naughtiness…but sticking to the simple joy of looking at a rainbow.

You know, I’m sure that just as Henry Ford offered his Model-T cars in any color as long as it was black, the early lot of underwear, both male and female, were predominantly white. So we had white bras and white panties for the girls and white loin guards and white vests for the boys. A lot of innovations crept into the domain…everything from elastic to whalebone supports…but the color remained a pristine white.

And peek-a-boo became a flash of white that would cheekily dare to show itself from behind ‘other colored’ garments. The top of a white bra peeking out from behind a red blouse was seen as being more provocative than the sight of the actual cleavage for instance. But the reign of white was to end, and we of this generation were destined to be its witnesses…and its victims.

In the women’s section someone obviously started to think of transparency and body shades. And soon we had skin toned undergarments with a gossamer feel that gave both the wearer and the viewer a feeling that nothing was being worn after all. And we had another school that said…if the undergarment is going to show, let it be shown in full color…any color. Just as the automobile revolution went from black to white to a million colors, the underworld too graduated from white,flirted with black and then exploded into a climax of rainbows.

And suddenly the pictures changed. Magazines were full of images, stolen images of stolen moments…with just the hint of a color showing through…and the saucier the better. Even a whole cluster of blue jean advertising was built around the inner colors. But the image that I am yet to see is that of a Dhobi Ghat…a washerman’s corner…

Where once upon a time we used to see hundreds of male undergarments hanging out to dry…all of them white…and all of them of different sizes…small, medium, big and grotesque…firm and hang loose…stringed and elasticized…I want to see how the frame has changed…and risen to welcome the new palette. And flying in the air you should be able to see, along with the colorful sarees and dresses, along with the colorful shirts…shirts of many a shade, trousers that have experimented with colors other than black…and underwears…in every color possible…in every design, in every size…all fluttering in the wayward wind…announcing the arrival of a pirate ship on the shores of a world that has lost its innocence and discovered the inner meaning of sin.