The White Shirt

"Clumsy!" Kavya heard her mother's voice in her ears as she spilled coffee on her shirt. She looked at it in dismay, wondering when she would learn to be less messy. And why did she have to wear white!

The waiter very helpfully offered her tissues. But though she knew she should try to wash off the stain, getting a white shirt wet in a cafe!!!

She controlled the tears of frustration as she paid up and came out. She checked her watch - 10. Her house was in one direction, and her venue for the appointment in another. "Damn!" she thought. There was no time to go back home and change her shirt. She would have to buy another shirt. White shirt. Which idiot thought of making white the uniform at her workplace, she wondered for the nth time!

She looked across the road, wondering if she should just walk into the meeting with the stained white shirt and pretend it was the latest design!

She sighed, knowing that was not going to work. She was about to hail an auto when she realised there was a mall next door. She headed there, thanking gods for this little mercy on her. She entered her favourite shop. She looked for her size in her preferred brand and was disappointed to see they were out of stock. There was S, M and XL but no L.

Reluctantly, she looked for white shirts in other brands, and even in other shops in the mall, giving herself just 10 minutes to complete the survey. She didn't even need so much time. The stores in teh same floor didn't have white shirts. In the next floor, the only store that had didn't have her fit. Either they were too tight in the chest or too loose around the waist.

She recollected her mother's lamentation, "I can never find ready made clothes for you. Why can't you fit the mould?"

Ever since she turned adolescent, she had to opt for tailor made clothes. While for Indian she didn't mind that, getting a good tailor for western wear was a challenge. Now that at the workplace she had to wear western clothes most of the time, shopping was becoming a nightmare. Was it only she who had a problem, she wondered as she finally opted for an L size in an inferior brand and tried to get it to mould to her shape.

She reached the venue 20 minutes late, and not even feeling good about her purchase...

Who decides what a woman's body should be like - the thought wouldn't leave her. Was she abnormal? Was she misshapen? She started looking at herself closely every time she crossed a mirror. She started assessing the expression in the eyes of the people looking at her during conversations. She didn't see ridicule or even surprise in their eyes. Sometimes she even detected admiration and desire...

Then why couldn't she find a simple shirt? She went back, again and again, to try out different western designs and found the same problem. She spoke to her friends, acquaintances, wives of colleagues. It was heartening to know she was not the only one, but she wondered why no one had thought of all the other women who did not fit into the standard sizes.

Finding a solution became her only obsessive thought in the next few days. She searched the web, and all she came up with were tailor names and addresses abroad. Or high end fashion designers...

Her quest took her to e-commerce sites. Nothing much for women, but it gave her an idea.

It took her two years and much talking to her parents to convince them to back her. When she successfully commissioned western wear to fit her shape, she felt liberated. But when she launched a site for women to buy made-to-order wear, she was the first one to order the kind of clothes she had fantasised about all her life!

"My ugly duckling turns a swan," her mother said fondly, kissing her daughter. "Can I order some for myself too?" asked she, surprising Kavya. She thought her mother preferred the regulation uniform she wore. "I never found what I wanted in the shops," her mother confessed and the two had a hearty laugh.

(This story is a creative twist based on an interview I did for a management magazine about a woman who started a portal for customised western wear. It may differ in actual points as I do not know much about the person. The actual article on how her entrepreneurial journey turned out will appear in the next issue of the magazine.)

Not As In...

"How did your day go?" Vivek asked when Sadhana returned from work.

"Mmmm..." she replied noncommittally.

"Is that a yes or a no?" he asked, more from masochistic intentions of needing evidence to lament later on.

"It was good," Sadhana answered, but her tone did not reflect 'good.'

Just Another Day

"Ma," 13-year-old Smita called out from inside the bathroom. "Can you please get me my uniform?"

Her mother Ganga was sitting in the dining room and kneading the dough. She looked up at the clock and shouted back, "Wrap a towel around you and pick it up yourself."

Jay mumbled without taking his eyes off the newspaper he was reading, "Poor kid, why don't you get her the dress?"

"You are most welcome to," Ganga said shooting a glare in his direction. Jay just continued reading as if he had not opened his mouth. Ganga felt a pang of guilt but didn't budge - she couldn't. She had a meeting at 10, and if she got delayed, then she would be held up in traffic and be late to work.

Smita came out grumbling. "It would have taken you a second."

"Right, and if you had taken it with you in the first place, it wouldn't even need that second," Ganga said and returned to the kitchen with the kneaded dough.

Smita made a face as she dressed up and tied her hair. She filled up the water bottle, packed her snack and sat down for breakfast. Ganga served her hot chapatis with paneer butter masala. "Yummy! Keep extra for lunch," Smita said.

Ganga smiled, "Already packed 5. Is that enough?"

Smita nodded with her mouth full and then hugged her mother from the side.

The house was empty by 9 as each went his or her way. Smita returned first in the evening, at 4.30. She was tired and looked at the dining table expectantly. She felt like having hot dosas, but all she could find were bun and jam. She sighed and ate the snack. She called her mother, "Can you make dosa at night for dinner?"

Ganga was silent for a minute. "Not tonight. I have a dinner meeting. Tomorrow breakfast, I promise."

Disappointed, Smita was about to put the phone down when Ganga said, "I will ask daddy to order something... or the two of you can go out. But..." she paused to let Smita scream joyfully. "You have to finish your homework before that. Do you have any classes?"

"Only maths tuition."

Jay, however, was also tied up at work. Ganga wondered what to do. "Why don't you order something?"

"Come on, Ganga. It maybe 8 by the time I reach home and it will be too late for her. Why don't you go home, make something before leaving for dinner?"

"Won't have time," she replied thoughtfully. "Will order pizza."

"No! I hate pizza."

"Then tell me what should I do? I know the pizza guy will deliver in 30 minutes, but not anyone else. She will be alone at home. I don't want her to open the door for delivery boys..."

"But what if he does not come before you leave?"

"Jay," she said sternly, "If you can give me solutions, do. Don't just tell me about the problems."

"Skip the dinner," he said suavely.

"Return home early," she snapped back and cut the call before it erupted into a fight. She sat back with her eyes closed. She felt she was snapping all the time. She called Jay again. "I will pick up something on the way," she said.

"No, it's okay. I just  rescheduled my meeting to tomorrow. Don't plug in something then..." he warned her, but she smiled feeling the warm rush of love.

"Don't be hard on her," she said softly. "She likes to keep the door closed, just let her be."

She called Smita to inform her. "Yaay!" her daughter exclaimed. She knew it would be a night of indulgence, but, well, why not. "Just make sure you complete your work and don't aggravate father," she cautioned her daughter.

When she returned after the dinner, she felt tired. Jay was awake but Smita was asleep. "How was the dinner?"

She nodded, but rushed to the bathroom and threw up. "I told you to miss it," Jay said and ducked under her baleful look. He got her some cumin seeds and made buttermilk, and though it calmed her churning stomach somewhat, she had a restless sleep.

Next morning, when Smita woke up, she was startled to see her father pottering about in the kitchen and her mother in bed. "Sandwich for breakfast?" she asked with a weak smile.

Jay smiled, "Yes! How did you know?"

Smita rolled her eyes. "Guess..."

He chuckled. "Oh come, half the world lives on it."

"I belong to the other half," she said over her shoulder as she went about her morning chores. "What's happened to mom?"

"Stomach bug. So please help around if you can," he told her.

Ganga opened her eyes and panicked, seeing it was already 8! She rushed to the kitchen to see Jay clearing up and Smita packing her lunch - curd rice with pickle.

"Go to the doc today," father and daughter said in unison. "We can't have you packing up like this," Smita added and hugged her mother. Jay's and Ganga's eyes met over their daughter's head and they smiled.

The Valuables

Sofiya locked the locker in the bureau securely. All that she valued was kept here. She would have to keep it in the bank locker, but she wouldn't be able to go till the weekend.

She put the key in her wardrobe and locked that too. She took the key and put that in the inside zip of her handbag and closed it, as well as the top zip. She clutched it close to her side and stepped out. She locked the house, put the key safely inside her bag and walked to the bus stop.

She walked casually enough, but her hand held the bag tightly. The bus stop had several pickpockets and she did not want to lose the keys.

Dobie and Me: Chapter 20

Read the previous chapter here

My head reeled. He pulled me up and took me in his arms. “She thinks that you will never take this…relationship forward.”

I pushed him away. “Are we to marry to prove her wrong?” I asked, feeling a stirring of a slow rage within me.

Dobie and Me: Chapter 19

For the previous chapter, click here

I sat puzzling over his last words. Had he said Shivani? Had he meant Vandana?

I took my car out and drove to his house. I couldn’t stand the suspense.

He was surprised to see me there but let me in. I quickly glanced around to see her presence, or the evidence of her presence. It looked every inch a male bastion. It should have been reassuring, but it was not. I turned to look at him. “What did you say?”

Dobie and Me: Chapter 18

For the previous chapter, click here

Gautam was as if he had been released from prison. There was no holding him back.

Enjoying his new found freedom and making up for lost time, he started travelling often. I saw less and less of him. He had plans for every weekend, and he was busy reviving contact with his friends. He asked me to join him sometimes, but not always, and never hard enough for me to accept. I was relieved, in a way. Dobie was a big reason, but, I could have done something about it.

Dobie and Me: Chapter 17

 Read Chapter 16 here 

What stopped me from contacting him? Pride, of course! Every time my fingers lingered over his number, I withdrew them quickly. I did not want to sound desperate, all the more because I was desperate.

And, then the glance they exchanged, the emotions they revealed! That moment, those two faces… I shook my head to dislodge the memory. But it wouldn’t go away. I couldn’t forget the way the two had looked at each other – her eyes… That expression! That eagerness!

I swallowed, my heart fluttering.

Dobie and Me: Chapter 16

Click here for the previous chapter

Gautam left at around 10. We were chatting on Whatsapp, reviewing the dinner, when he suddenly vanished for a long while. Just as I went to bed at 11.30, he messaged, “Mother unwell. Taking her to hospital.”

She passed away later that night. The funeral was to be the next day, by afternoon after his uncles reached from different cities.

The 'Un-Holi' Crime

The concrete jungle in the desert city of Abu Dhabi sprang to life as the lights came on. Sabina, nearly at the end of her shift, reached Room No. 724 in the hotel she worked, pushing her trolley ahead of her. She quickly and efficiently pulled out the cleaning liquid, new set of bedsheets and pillow covers and opened the door. The room was dark and stuffy. She smelled something, but could not say what it was. It made her uncomfortable. She inserted the key in the slot and entered the bathroom. She saw red spots on the floor and paused, feeling tensed.

She stepped back and noticed the floor. The stains led up to the bed. She saw the prone figure, swathed in blood. She let out a scream and ran out, not stopping till she was in the manager’s cabin. She was inconsolable, and the effort of keeping herself together seemed to have exerted her beyond her capacity at that moment. She fainted.

Dobie and Me: Chapter 15

Click here to begin at the beginning

Click here for previous chapter

Shiv was out before I woke up the next morning and returned late in the night. Before I could ask him if he had had dinner, he banged his room door shut. Amit followed soon after and was gentler. He even sat with me and told me about his day. Taking Gautam’s advice, I tried hard not to think of this difficult matter and maintain a calm front. Dobie seemed to sense the anger in the air and was sulking, not responding to Amit’s invitation to sit by him.

“What’s with him?” Amit asked edgily.

“Dobie,” I called out softly. He turned his face to the wall. “He is behaving like the two of you,” I couldn’t help commenting.

Dobie and Me: Chapter 14

For those who came in late, the short serial Dobie and Me begins here

Click here For Chapter 13

“How did it go?” Gautam asked me on the phone later in the evening.

I started crying. “Bad,” I whispered.

“Do you want me to come over?” he asked softly. But I knew his mother was not doing well and he had to be home. Also, I didn’t want my sons to see him right now. They were out, but I expected them back anytime.

“No,” I said hoarsely.

Dobie and Me: Chapter 13

Read Chapter 12 here, if you missed it 

Telling my sons was not easy. Shiva looked dazed and Amit… Oh my poor boy! He couldn’t speak. I felt miserable as I watched them struggle with the news. “How, what? What are you saying?” Amit asked.

“I know it is not easy for you, Amit, Shiv…”

“It is our age to have girlfriends, not yours to have a boyfriend!” Shiv burst out, leaving me baffled. “You have us! Aren’t we enough?” he asked and started crying.

Dobie and Me: Chapter 12

Read Chapter 11, if you haven't yet

Dobie was snoozing. He barely opened his eyes when we entered, and went back to his beauty nap.

I cleaned his dish and put some fresh food in it. Gautam joined me in the kitchen and I started making coffee without asking. He placed the cups on the counter and added sugar. I brewed coffee. The silence hung between us. I was immensely disappointed at this transformed man, and uncomfortable when I caught him staring at me.

Finally, I turned to face him, though uncertainly.

Dobie and Me: Chapter 11

(Click here for Chapter 10)

“Who is he, ma?” Amit asked when Shiv, he and I sat down for dinner that night.

I knew who he meant, of course, but I stalled. “Who?”

“Gautam, the man who was here this morning…”

“Who was here this morning?” Shiv asked, not taking his eyes off his phone.

Dobie and Me - Chapter 10

Read Chapter 9 here

The house seemed fuller, and emptier, when my sons visited me. There was much noise when they were around, much laughter, teasing and fights. Much love.

And then, when they went off to meet their friends, I felt the silence pressing against me.

Their timings were uncertain, as usual, putting me in a bind. I had to accept that they were adults and had to have a life of their own. I tried to resume mine, but a sort of lethargy set in and I stayed in the limbo – neither able to work nor meet friends, nor enjoy the holidays completely.

Dobie and Me: Chapter 9

Read Chapter 8

When I met him a month later, he laughed on hearing of my exploits. “Is that your idea of life?” he asked snidely. “Ok, for the first month it is okay… Let’s see how you fare the coming month…”

“What do you want from me!” I asked exasperated. “You mocked me for not going to a movie or shopping! And now that I tell you I did, you still mock me!”

“Me? It is not what I want from you! It is what you want from you, from your life!” He leaned forward. “Tell me, did you enjoy yourself?”

Dobie and Me: Chapter 8

Read Chapter 7 here

The carefree college days, where all that mattered was bunking classes, the hours spent in canteen, going to movies, shopping… Shankar and I drifted close. Soon we drifted away from others, I a shadow of him, he leading me to new worlds.

One world he led me into was that of college elections. He campaigned for Pratyush, our senior. We were sophomores and Pratyush was doing his first year post graduation. Pratyush and I rarely spoke to each other, except when he wanted to give me some instruction. But he never failed to greet me, even after he won the elections and became the president. Shankar, though, became Pratyush’s understudy and spent much time with the ‘men in power’. I complained, but it fell on deaf ears.

Dobie and Me: Chapter 7

Read Chapter 6 here

A heavy silence hung between us. He caressed Dobie, who rubbed himself against Gautam’s leg. Realising how affected he was despite the years that had lapsed, I got up on the pretext of making some more coffee, giving him time to recover his composure.

When I returned with two cups, he still seemed to be lost in his past.

“How is your mother now?”

“Well, she has her days. Is under treatment… but it will worsen…” he shrugged. After a brief pause, he looked up at me and said, “Never hurt your parents, Mahek. You can never live in peace after that. I wish I had been more sensitive and paid more attention. But I made the mistake of thinking it was the usual mother-in-law daughter-in-law problem. I was ashamed of my mother!” He lowered his and covered his eyes with his hand.

Dobie and Me - Chapter 6

Click here for Chapter 5

The service guys took a couple of days to get the car cleaned, and at a hefty cost. I offered to share a part of the payment at least, but Gautam wouldn’t hear of it, thankfully. With Dobie’s treatment and two sons in college, it wasn’t easy though I was not hard up.

Gautam dropped in once in a while to see Dobie, and normally stayed back for breakfast – if he came before leaving for work - or had dinner if he came after work. We mostly discussed books – I had a big shelf with books - and travel. But I also gathered that he was divorced, he was in his early forties, he liked to travel but couldn’t because his mother was unwell.