After the Last Goodbye (3).

 

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Manasi glanced on the hoarding at the corner of the street that read, "A girl is not a burden...She is a beginning".

She got seated in the car. The face of the that little girl was still fresh in front of her eyes. She touched the clover of the keychain. Turning on the radio, she drove off. 

"Zindagi...kaisi yeh paheli haye......kabhi yeh hasaye, kabhi yeh rulaye......". "What better a song than this right now!", she thought.

Her phone buzzed and she stopped the car at the roadside.

"Where are you dear? Did you see what time it is? Did you get the fabric? When are you reaching?", a barrage of questions came her way, in a blaring tone.

Manasi held the phone far from her ears, "Kripa, dear, give me a breather, will you? I'm on my way to the office. Will reach asap". Manasi hung up.

She parked the car in the designated parking in the basement of her office building. The building was a commercial complex. There were many corporate offices of renowned companies in the edifice. She pressed the fourth floor button of the elevator. As she went throught the file in her hand, "Fabric! Ummm, this isn't going well", her inner-speech echoed.

As the elevator doors opened, there was a lavish lobby. Exquisite artifacts orderly structured -expensive vases in different sizes and shapes. The lighting was layered, rich facrics of upholstery were evident. The ambience was timelessly sophisticated. The office felt less like a workplace more like a moodboard. 

Manasi entered her department space. The main wall was covered in inspiration, tear sheets from magazines, colour palettes pinned beside handwritten notes, photographs and flowing silhouettes traced in pencil. There were mannequins that stood like silent models, ready to be dressed or already dressed in muslin, satin - trials. Some bold statement pieces were waiting for final stitches. Desks were loaded with tray full of t-pins, dress-makers, quilting pins. Measuring tapes and sharp sewing shears were kept at the hand's reach. Caddies with colourful pens and markers. Fabric swatches, catalogues, pantone books, magazines, trim samples and so on and so forth were piled up. 

At the other corner of the space, sewing machines were clicking in the background, while few employees were busy debating textures with coffee mugs in their hands. The scent of fabric and coffee lingered throughout. Ideas seem to drape themselves into form, organised yet fluid, disciplined yet endlessly imaginative.

"There you are", Kripa stood with pencil in one hand and the other on her waist, her eyes ogling at Manasi.

"Something is missing Kripa. I couldn't find the perfect fabric", Manasi laid the file on the working desk. She turned to the board that was placed near the desk. "Here, can you see this? This outfit needs something different. Not just the regular chiffon or georgette. We'll have to brainstorm more", Manasi said pointing to the designs that were pinned on the board.

"Ah! Another unproductive trip, was it? Let's make do with what we get Manasi. Why are you so hell bent?", Kripa said as her ogling eyes were now winking at Manasi.

"You won't mend your ways, would you?", Manasi pulled Kripa's cheeks.

"That hurt!", Kripa rubbed her cheeks. "Oh! Did it? Exactly, my point. It hurts me too, to do things half-hearted, got it?

"My appologies Ma'am! Let's work on it then", Kripa plumped on her chair and continued sketching in her book. 

Manasi smiled and went to the coffee station. She filled two mugs with hot black coffee. "Here, have some magic potion and focus more!". She put one mug on Kripa's table. "Abra-ca-dabra! Let's go..", Kripa clinked the mugs.

Manasi grinned, shaking her head. She sat across the table, sipping the hot coffee, glancing at the design on the board.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a fictional story. Resemblance of any sort in real life is purely coincidental.

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