1. Jab We Met
PRESENT DAY
June, 2024
“Is leaky roof better than a leaky umbrella?” Maya wondered aloud, walking briskly up the slippery slope of Pali Hill. Who would believe this was a posh area of suburban Mumbai? The BMC clearly did not like Mumbai’s wealthy living peacefully, even after spilling their and their ancestors’ kidneys to buy property here. Potholes. Everywhere. And where the roads ran smooth? Silty mounds dug up to repair ‘an old project.’ Or to find the long-lost treasure that the Portuguese had left behind.
“Back to the issue,” she shook her head, holding her arm protectively over her white silk blouse as she trudged uphill. It was a two-front war, protecting her newest pair of black fit-and-flare jersey trousers from being splashed at by the mean rickshawalas while keeping the white top from sticking to her skin. “Who told you to wear white on a probable rainy day?” She ranted to herself, glowering at the mighty Mumbai rain. The sucker didn’t fall from up to down. No. It blew sideways and right into your face. And white blouse. No, God, no! It’s my first day.
Drip. Drip. Her umbrella leaked. She quivered, her steps still quick, lolling her tongue out to collect the droplet of water rolling down her Ruby Woo lipstick. “I’ll take a leaky roof!” She hollered to the sky. “Give me a leaky roof but don’t make my umbrella leak. Please! Please! Let me reach my new office dry and looking like Kiara Advani! Please, I beg you!”
Splash.
“Hawww!” She jumped back. “Abey saale…” before she could finish her string, the rickshaw had raced off, leaving perfectly layered brown splotches on her black trousers.
“Ok, what part of dry and Kiara Advani did you not understand?!” She screamed up at the sky. The clouds rumbled. “Shit!” She hiked her LV tote higher and resumed her sprint. Thank god she had chosen a pair of Birkenstocks to walk. Her heels were safely tucked away in a pouch in her tote. “See, I can be smart when I want to be,” she smirked, pushing the lose wisps of hair behind her ear and into the bun she had tied before leaving home. She would shake it open when she reached the office, just before entering, and her hair would flow down in perfect beach waves. That’s one thing the rain did well for her. It added super waves and volume to her hair.
“Wow!” She froze outside her new office. Would it even be called an office? It was a cafe, or an ex-cafe. Lore had it, that the owner had bought out a converted Portuguese villa that used to function as a quirky cafe and turned it into the office of GK Textiles. What a boring name for a company, but hey, the Santorini blue and white tiled nameplate just outside the wrought iron gate looked right out of some aesthetic Pinterest board. Bougainvillea vines crept over the arched gate, the pink flowers sparse and drenched. And behind it rose the three-storey old-school bungalow, with brown tiled roofs and white turret balconies running entire floors.
She had seen it all before, of course, when she had interviewed. But who could have enough of this? Maya bounced on the soles of her feet, pushing the gate open and breezing in. There was security but he was, like last time, kind enough to smile and let her pass through. Their check-point was the receptionist just inside. But before that…
She pulled her umbrella shut, stuffed it in the bucket of wet umbrellas and shook her bun out under the veranda roof. The rain stopped. Like in a second. A switch turned off. Maya stared up at the dark clouds, parting to show the sun. “Fuck you.”
“Excuse me?” A soft, feminine tingle sounded behind. She turned.
“Oh, hey, not you, sorry.”
“Then who?” The young woman glanced around. She was petite, pretty. Her eyes were dark brown, her hair the same shade, and she wore no makeup except a tinted lip balm. And in the clothes department, she had good style. Her black boyfriend jeans looked close to formal wide-legged pants. Tucked into it was a pink floral top.
“I… long story. So, when I left home it was sunny. I live just 10 minutes away, you know? And still I grabbed my umbrella because it’s June and you never know in Mumbai. And I was right. The moment I stepped out of my building, it started raining. What raining?! It started pouring. I almost drenched myself, had to jump over massive, like massive potholes and some rude rickshawala did this —” Maya extended her leg with the pretty flare of her black attacked with splotches of brown. “And just when I reached here, look —”
They both glanced up in unison. Birds were bloody flocking across the sun, chirping merry songs. The woman sputtered. And Maya’s heat from the buildup of her story burst. She snorted, then began to laugh too.
“Welcome, I am Riya,” the young woman held out her hand.
“Maya. Hi.”
“I know. I saw you when you came to interview.”
“You should have come and said hi then only! How do I look though? Is it ok for your office culture?”
Riya chuckled — “You look good. Don’t worry. But… you might need to change your…”
“Shit,” Maya glanced down at her chest. The shirt wasn’t plastered to her skin, but wet splotches showed the red bra underneath like a beacon. “Die, you Reddit hack!” She spat.
“What?”
“Reddit. Some half-brained Reddit user thinks wearing red bra under white shirt will make the bra’s shade disappear into your natural skin tone. DISAPPEAR,” she pointed at the bright straps shining through her shirt. Riya bit her lip. “At least they match your lipstick.”
Maya rolled her eyes, shaking her hair out and in front, artfully arranging the waves until they hid her boobs. “Ok now?”
“Almost. Turn around?”
She did, leaving some waves to hang down her back to hide any wet areas.
“It’s good. Come, everything will dry in a while.”
“If god hasn’t managed to put me in his hate-list today.”
They turned from the verandah and walked inside the office. Sudden chill enveloped her. It was arctic. But beautiful. They hadn’t gutted the old architecture of the bungalow, leaving all the Greek terracotta murals on one wall. Some Turkish tiles broke the monotony of massive cream walls, creating a symphony of controlled chaos. The best part? Their workstations weren’t cubicles but an eclectic mix of white wrought iron round tables with comfy armchairs. Cabins lined one side but there were enough boxes of windows to flood the entire space with natural light.
“Your office looks more like an ad agency than a textile company.”
“Isn’t it? This is the Made in Mumbai studio space. The textile company sits on the first floor.”
“I didn’t get a chance to go up there last time.”
“First floor is GK Textiles, and the terrace is GK himself.”
“Terrace?”
“You’ll see. His floor is…”
“Hi! Maya, right?” The receptionist rounded his desk. He was a handsome young man. Dressed in a cream ribbed polo over fitted black chinos, he exuded the perfect eye-candy vibes. He had a cat at home who owned him, and a grandma who owned the both of them. She knew, because she had chatted with him the last time she was here for her interview.
“Hi, yes. How are you, Leo?”
His brows went up — “Impressed,” he nodded. “I remembered you by your face, but you remembered me by name?”
“I also remember there is a certain Mr. Paw at home who owns you.”
“Shit, wow!”
Maya laughed — “Don’t worry, I only stalked you at nights.”
His mouth fell open. As did Riya’s.
“That was a joke. You told me about Mr. Paw last time I was here.”
Their eyes were still wide.
“Really!” She panicked. And they burst out laughing.
“You look too polished to stalk someone,” Leo grinned.
“Do I?” She frowned, now wondering how she would stalk somebody if she ever had to. How should she un-polish herself?
“Fancy bag, fancy clothes, hair in place even on a rainy day…” he trailed.
“Oh,” she waved him away, curtsying — “Thank you, thank you…”
“Umm… Maya?” Riya tapped her shoulder.
“Hmm?”
“Don’t you have to report to HR? It’s already 10.20.”
“Shit. Sorry, See you later, guys!”
Maya ran, not into the work space but in the opposite direction where the office of their HR sat. She remembered the way, because it was also where a set of gorgeous wide winding stairs began. They curled and swept up into the next floor. Sunshine spilled down from above, and she was 99% sure that the next floor was even more beautiful than this. Even so, she curbed her curiosity and knocked on the HR’s office door.
“Come in.”
“Hi, Trisha. I am so sorry I got late, it’s very unprofessional and that too on my first day but it suddenly rained and I thought walking it up from my flat nearby was easier than convincing a rickshaw to…”
“Slow down, slow down,” the HR laughed. Trisha, was her name. She was a middle-aged woman with the best skin. It literally shone as if she had flicked a light switch on the inside. Her hair was wound up in a roll with a pencil to tuck it tight, while she wore cat eye glasses with a pair of silver chains that ran around her neck. “You can sit and have some water if you want,” she smiled, pushing a glass towards her.
“Oh thank you!” Maya sat down on her visitor’s chair and took a grateful gulp. Her office was regular, nothing fancy. It didn’t even have a window. But Trisha seemed to look happy with the Turkish tiled floor and two little planters.
“Yes, so how have you liked the office so far?”
“I haven’t gotten the chance to explore more than the ground floor. But it’s gorgeous. You know, this is one of the main reasons I decided to work here.”
“It’s a pretty space, I agree. But the work is not as easygoing. I know we spoke about your job profile but you will have to make it your own. We have created a Senior Textile Designer role because our team of designers are not as experienced, and our studio is expanding. Work hours will not always be 10 to 6.”
“I know. I have said goodbye to my social life last night so I am all yours,” Maya shrugged cheekily.
“Well, then, let’s get you your stuff, sign some papers and have you meet everybody. Did you bring all your ID proofs?”
“Oh yes!”
————————————————————
‘All her stuff’ included a brand new MacBook Air, an iPad Pro and the latest gen Apple Pencil. Wow. She had two out of those three things at home, but free stuff at the office was always welcome. It was like your favourite song playing on the radio. You had it on your phone and yet when the radio played it… Eeee!
“This is your core team. Riya, Simran, and… where is Rustom?” Trisha glanced around the co-working space. One of the cabins opened and out strutted a stout man with red framed nerd glasses. Maya couldn’t even look at his clothes because those red glasses sucked all the attention.
“What?”
“Behave Rustom, you don’t want to look bad in front of your boss on day one.”
“You?” Rustom turned and scoffed at her. Maya beamed. His scoff remained intact, his eyes giving her a once over.
“Rustom…” Trisha warned.
“I have experience as much as her age.”
“You don’t look that old,” Maya returned his once over. And his eyes narrowed. Riya sputtered, as did the other girl — Simran. But Maya held Rustom’s stare. If she was to operate as his senior, she had to establish one boundary. Of respect. The rest was all fun and she was always game for fun.
“Hi,” Maya extended her hand. “My name is Maya Kotak. I aced my M. Des from NID Ahmedabad and worked with Aditya Birla Group as the Fusion Textile Designer. I also worked with designers Arun Tahiliani, Niya Tandon and most recently Farah Gupta. I have won Innovative Dress Materials award for Farah Gupta three years in a row. I live just two lanes away, recently divorced, love salted caramel anything , can work 19 hours straight — it’s a record, you can look it up, and I am 34 years old.”
Not only Rustom, but the whole workspace was staring wide-eyed at her. She grinned, waving a sheepish hand at them all. “Hello.”
“Oh-kay,” Trisha popped out. “Maya, let me show you your office and then we can go up meet the GK Textiles lot.”
They navigated the workspace together. Maya smiled and nodded at as many people as she could. It wasn’t a very big space and there weren’t too many people. Around twenty. She could rote all their names in a day, max.
“Here are all the offices. The designers each have their private cabin to work. But they also have tables outside to collaborate. You will have to do with an office just like theirs because all offices here were made equal…”
“Wow!” Maya ventured inside the door that Trisha opened. It overlooked the garden of the villa and got amazing light. “Can I get my own chair here, please?”
“Umm… sure.”
Maya had just the right one in mind. The overstuffed armchair that she had moved into her new apartment’s hall only last week. It was her cosy reading and drawing spot. It would be perfect to sit and work here with this view.
“You can leave all your stuff here and we will go up.”
Maya deposited her IT files and gadgets on the desk and bounced behind Trisha. As she had guessed, the sweeping stairs beside Trisha’s office led up to the GK Textiles floor. This floor was another masterpiece. The alley was laid with the old wrought iron balustrade painted white, while the stairs were painted Santorini Blue. The sun shone brilliantly through a translucent canopy.
“Here are all the offices. Your main contact person will be Sahyadri Rao. She is the Head of Design for GK Textiles and oversees Made in Mumbai. All your projects will be finally approved by her.”
They navigated the alley, with offices here looking state of the art even though the outdoors were very chic and moody. The staff here dressed more formally — crisp shirts and trousers the norm as opposed to the polos downstairs. Trisha reached the end of the alley and knocked on the last door.
“Yes?”
“Hi, Sia, got a minute? I have the new Senior Designer with me.”
“Of course, come come.”
Trisha held the door open and Maya breezed in, smiling wide at the sight of the other woman sitting back in her chair, fabric swathes laid out on one side of her desk while the other was cluttered with sketch pens of all colours. A silver Mac lay closed between these two seas of rainbow.
The woman herself though was as sleek as the Mac. Poker straight hair pinned back on the sides, her mouth a soft pink and lashes so long Maya thought she could play waterslide on them.
“Hi,” Maya grinned. She got to her feet, extending her hand with a kind smile — “Hello. Welcome to Made in Mumbai. I got your resume and have heard only good things about you from everybody who interviewed you.”
“Oh, that’s because they don’t know me yet,” Maya gave her a cheeky smile. She laughed.
“We look forward to getting to know you. Are you all settled in?”
“Yes. Just going around seeing the place and meeting everybody.”
“Good, good. The staff here is very busy today. Why don’t we have you meet them at lunch?”
“Sure. No problem, Sahyadri.”
“They call me Sia here.”
“Sia then, thanks.”
“Alright.”
She sat back down, politely dismissing them.
“Was there anything else, Trisha?”
“Is sir available?”
“For what?”
“To meet Maya?”
“You know he doesn’t really mingle. You’ll meet him when you’ll met him,” Sia directed that last bit at her.
“Is he like… the beast of the Beauty and the Beast?” Maya whispered dramatically to Trisha as they walked down the alley.
“No,” Trisha laughed. “Nothing like that. But he just doesn’t talk much. Sia is right. He doesn’t mingle. And he is busy this week. Anyway, let’s go, I’ll let you sit down and settle in…”
“What about upstairs?”
“Upstairs is the terrace, and on the east wing terrace is Gautam Sir’s office.”
“Oh ok…”
Trisha’s phone buzzed and she glanced at it.
“Sorry, I need to take this. Come on… Hello? Yes…” Trisha quickly descended the gentle sweeping staircase that was curving down towards her office. Maya bit her lip, then glanced surreptitiously up at the terraces. Another set of sweeping blue staircase wound up there. Like some way to heaven. There was no roof there, and green planters lined the way. Tree trunks were piercing the natural structure of the villa. Her feet tingled.
Maya glanced down but Trisha was long gone.
“3, 2, 1…” she counted down. And her intent was still strong. So she turned and bounded up the stairs.
The space went quieter and quieter. And greener. The sound of chirping birds and dripping water abounded here. If she thought the planters downstairs were ‘green,’ then here was a whole forest. The tree trunks she had seen grow through the floors bloomed here, looking lush after the recent shower. Cool rain water still dripped, making the terracotta-lined floor wet. Almond, Peepal, Mango, Jamun… tree canopies were thick and the terrace floor was already littered with fallen leaves and tiny Jamuns. Maya went ahead to the parapet and plucked one swollen Jamun. Her tongue tingled. She wasn’t fond of the fruit per se, but it made tongues purple.
She bit into the flesh, the tart flavour almost bitter. She made a face. Tiny droplets found her cheek from the canopy and she smiled. She nibbled on the Jamun, wandering around the terrace. A set of three stairs led up to another terrace, and she climbed them. Only to stop short. Here was a whole house made of glass. Not mirror exactly but it was partly reflective. She could see the Arabian sea in its reflection and when she turned, she discovered that the Carter Road promenade was visible right from the parapet of this terrace. She ran to the balustrade and leaned out.
“Wow…” she stood mesmerised. “Coffee break point found,” she made a note to herself, licking the bitten Jamun flesh to add more purple to her tongue. She lolled her tongue out to see. The tip wasn’t as easily visible. So she turned to the glass house, rolling her tongue out fully to check if the colour was dark enough.
The door opened. And out came a broad chest stretched in a white shirt. Maya trailed her eyes up the thick column of throat, stubbled jaw, compressed lips and a straight nose. Her breath caught, tongue still out. She squinted.
“G?” She asked. Then shook her head — “No, no. Sorry. I thought you are someone I knew… Hi, I am…”
“M,” he frowned. His voice thicker, more firm, more… just more than before. Maya swallowed, the Jamun squeezing in her fingers.
“What are you doing over here?”
“Working. What are you doing…?” His eyes trailed down to her tongue that kept lolling out every few seconds, down to her chest, then back up. She was frozen, her brain blank. Nothing passed through it. How was that possible? No thought? What to do now?
“I asked you something.”
She startled at his curt words.
“Oh… umm,” she blinked, her brain kickstarting again. And with it, her tongue rolled with its usual flow — “I am the new Senior Textile Designer. It’s my first day. You… are you the owner whose office is up here?”
“Yes.”
“Wow… Hey, listen, I am sorry… for that morning at Carters. It’s so long back now but I shouldn’t have spoken so rudely to you. I…”
“It’s fine. You may get back to…”
"How did all this happen?!” She perked up. “What have you been up to all these years? By the way, you have made a unique office. Can I see…?” She tried to peep around him but he crossed his arms across his chest.
“Who let you up?”
“I didn’t know there was a curfew here. They said you don’t mingle much and you are busy this week. I just wanted to check out the space.”
“Right. Don’t come up here again unless you are called. And wear something that is workplace appropriate.”
With that he stepped back and shut the glass door.
Shock paralysed her. But only for a few seconds. She bounced back then.
“And wear something that is workplace appropriate,” Maya mouthed, making a face at his door.
“I can see that,” came his voice from the other side.
Shit. She glanced at herself, purple tongue and all. Then at her chest. Her hair had slid back in all the frolicking. And the bright red bra straps were still visible under brand new wet splotches on her shirt. Shit.