Tailor-Made

Coocooned in the dingiest of New Market lanes, Azeem Hussain Tailors was busy taking orders for the wedding season. The hardly square of a room was packed in uneven queues and fabrics -- silk, cotton, linen. The ceiling was converted into an elongated cupboard hoarding the completed orders, being delivered by Meer, Azeem's son. Adeptly, like in a shoeshop, he passed down the packet corresponding to the number his Abbu was calling out. It was the Christmas-New Year week holiday, and he did not have college. He was pursuing a bachelors degree in Commerce from one of the top colleges and had picked up good communication skills in English, as per his determination. He knew he would become big, bigger than his square, break this square, extend into hexagons, and may be even more. Then life would come to a complete circle. That evening, Abbu caught a fever and asked him to take charge of the shop till he returned. He agreed. Having assisted his father from a very young age, he was aware of measurements and manipulations. A tailor, of all precision had he should have, should also be able to convince his customer about the design that would suit her best. And women being women, they always took a man's comments seriously.

He dealth with a couple of easy customers, he was finally visited by a very loyal Mrs Roy and her neice. These customers were also offered clay cups of tea and chairs to sit. They took time. They always brought a lumpsome order, and without fail, always in a hurry.

Mrs Roy: Chacha kahaan hai? Tum order le sakoge?

Meer: Madam, Abbu is ill. Please take a seat. I assure you, your designs will be duly delivered.

Mrs Roy: Arrey waah! English? Nice. It will be easier today to explain. Otherwise, with your Abbu, don't mind beta,  too much jighhjighh, chhickchhick. Ye samajhao, wo samjhao. Anyway, Vasudha, you go first.

Meer: As salaam waliqum, Madam. Please come inside.

Vasudha: No, first you understand what I want to get made. This is for the cocktail party.

She laid out a golden silk fabric and indigo blue lining material and explained Meer the design. Meer, by now was swayed by her dicion, confidence and beauty. He couldn't wait to get into the measurement room with her. She went on giving him the intricate details -- the slit, the reveal, the covers, the one-sided gher. And then finally, his moment arrived. They went inside the measurement room. It was barely a room, giving a sense of space only because of the mirrors placed on all four walls.

Meer: Madam, please take off your jacket.

Vasudha: I know.

Meer never held the measuring tape with as much affection as he did today. First the shoulders, which allowed him to smell the waft of her perfume. Then the slender wrists,the manicured nails of which were giving him a sense of fantasy. Next came her waist, as if temple-curved like seen in movies, they were full, but not fat. Oh how he wished to caress them upwards. The slit measurement on her left thigh was a contest between the two. While she wanted more, he insisted it wouldn't go with the look. No need for other men to see her. They mutually decided on a mid-slit. After what seemed an eternity, it was now time for the chest measurement. Meer somehow managed a professional expression, which he knew was badly failing him.

Meer: Madam, do you want body fit, or little loose? Ya allah, please fit bolo.

Vasudha: Bhai, body fit. I am inhaling. Make it quick.

Meer took his time to confront her full body, knowing his immediate fantasy would never have enough success. He took the tape around her breasts and held it there.

Meer: Ok Madam?

Vasudha: How will I say? You see and say what's best!

Meer: Wait Madam, how much neckline cut did you say you want?

Vasudha: You check no!

Meer went back to his notepad and came back to her breasts. The heat was irresistable.

Meer: Once more Madam, please take your breath in.

He took his time to closely inspect her roundness and tip and fullness and when he could hold it no longer, he went back to his notepad.

Meer: Done, Madam.

Vasudha: You know right I want it in three days?

Meer: What Madam, so much work, only three days you are giving.

As Vasudha checked herself in the mirror, she said, 'I don't know. Three days, byaas! Come out now.'

For Meer, it felt as if his life changed the moment he stepped out. It was back to business, there was hardly any space for desire. Having bargained into what Mrs Roy and Vasudha thought was a good deal, they went off without having the tea. He had quoted a price worth six orders. So he took his time and told the assistant to take care of the shop while he went inside to his home.

Meer: Abbu, ye wala immediately stitch ke liye bhejna parega. Qaafi munafa kar liya iss ek order se, lekin nakhre bhi bohut bhaari hai. Main khud jaakaar samjha aata hoon. Iqbal dukaan dekh lega. 

He did not allow for his father to respond who still could not make much of the conversation except for 'munafa' and agreed to go back to rest. Treasuring the fabric as if it were dear life, Meer cycled to the tailoring site and picked the best one. "Rahim Bhai! Turaant aaiye. Bari order hai. Sab chhor de."

Rahim Bhai too, like his father could not understand much except for 'commission' and set to work at it. Meer sat beside him and promised him more if he could complete it by tonight.

"Naa mumkin" came Rahim Bhai's reply. "Kal dopehar tak, pakka."

Meer had no choice but to agree and saw the fabric taking shape, slowly. First the lines and cuts came according to his measurements. As Rahim Bhai took to the machine, Meer's attention slurred back to the measuring moments. It was only disturbed by his hunger and he cycled back home, around dusk. All night through, he could not sleep. He sneaked in the tape from the shop and held it. It gave him a palpable sensation -- the thin line called measured touch.

The next morning, again after having taken couple of orders at the shop Meer rushed to the tailor site, and asked for Rahim Bhai. He was offering namaaz and the moment he came out, Meer rushed to him. "Khatam karo, Bhai! Aaj chahiye."

Rahim assured him that he would get it done by evening. Aa the garment got Vasudha's shape, Meer's excitement raised in an electric pace. With the gown now done, he had two more days to be with. All night he laid it on his bed and slept beside it, as if Vasudha were beside her. He smelled the same fragrance, caressed the slit and touched the neckline. Knowing he could never have her, he made love with her gown. The night next was an all-nighter. He could not imagine not having it beside him after the day was in. He stayed awake with it.

On the third afternoon, Mrs Roy and Vasudha came in. Meer had to play his plot. He looked at Vasudha and said, "Madam, if you don't mind, could you please try it once while you are here. In that case, if there is any error, a day would not be lost in re-doing it, though I am sure we have done a good job."

His confidence made Vasudha pick up the ironed gown, delight written all over her face as the indigo set icy flashes on the gold. It looked like a shower stream of violin strings and guitar strings, set against the winter air, glittering with music. She was already in love with it. As Meer heard a scream from inside the measurement room, he knew it had fitted her perfectly. "Yeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaa. Mami! Come and see! It feels so comfortable!" Meer smiled at Mrs Roy. They both went to the door. She did look gorgeous and the fit was outstanding. Vasudha was pouting and posing adding more to Meer's pleasure. He was enchanted. They left with profuse thanks and more than the promised amount. Everybody was happy.

Meer remained in his tailor-made dream for a lifetime.