Another set of eyes stop to stare at me. Maybe I am dressed wrong? I try to adjust the shawl and my own thoughts seem stupid to me. If this is dressing wrong, then I don't know what one would call dressing right. An hour back, standing before the mirror, my mind was flooding with confusions of what to wear. If it were back in my home in Nepal, nothing could have made me think so much about dressing up. I would have picked my usual set of shirt and jeans, grabbed my earphones, and would have hopped off to somewhere feeling comfortable. But here I was in my hostel in Bangladesh. Going out alone in jeans would have been stupidity. I definitely didn't have the guts to have a 20 minutes long rickshaw ride with people staring at me. So kurtha and salwar it was. Then the usual questions like which one, which colour, with what pair of trousers and with which shawl, bombarded me. The others were easy to answer, but the one I was stuck at was the shawl. I could not find my fav