Darji

It is a piece of paper. I would not have cared about this if it is just a piece of paper. This is a paper on which my unlettered tailor has scribbled some thing  decipherable only to himself. What i could make out from that is he has received my 13 blouses given for stitching with a unwritten promise  to deliver them back to me after completion of  aforesaid work. He was good with  numerals and clearly mentioned that i need to pay Rs. 2050 at the time of delivery. I began preserving this  piece of paper with utmost care at par with  my immovable property documents. I know a minute negligence will land me in trouble. I am most likely to forget to collect my blouses, and even if remember by remote chance  I find it terribly difficult to identify them in  big heap of furled bundles of unstitched clothes in his petty shop.

I received a phone call from the tailor few days after I have sent my blouses with model blouse through my servant maid, that he needed to see  me urgently to carry out any alterations. He always had the technique of stitching the blouse looking at the person without taking any measurements and he takes pride in that.  Hence he needs to see me once to check whether I gained any weight or become anorexic. Therefore I made myself available to him one evening. Having satisfied with my present physical  condition he promised to stitch and deliver all of  them after 25 days as it was marriage season. I had to carefully tuck the yellow  piece of paper given by him in my wallet along with cash and credit cards. After few days after finding  this yellow piece of paper getting crumpled every time I take my currency out I  changed it's place to my cupboard. 

I would have totally forgotten them had he not telephoned me one fine evening that the cloth  which I gave for stitching blouses  was not sufficient and  seemingly either by ignorance or intelligence I tried to save money  by buying insufficient  cloth. I had to search for my  yellow piece of paper given by him to prove that he has wasted so much time in deciding about the shortfall, and to  testify my trust reposed in his ability to somehow manage with any length of  cloth given to him. I wanted to explain to him  since the cloth was  cut from "Tans" they cannot be returned back to the shop keeper. I had to fathom my cupboard to find that  yellow piece of paper and I am sure I need couple of hours to set my cupboards right  since nothing seems to be in place now.

As it was very late in the evening and i was  supposed to meet the tailor only  the next day.Next day morning  I became too freaky when I saw my servant maid  sweeping an yellow piece of paper under the misconception that it is my tailor receipt, and her not discriminating between  valuable papers and trash.  But  it wasn't my tailor receipt. Then where did i keep it? I checked  my bedroom, dressing table, drawing room. Finally I found it under my spectacles on the fridge. Good god. I should not keep it here. Any time i might lift my spectacles and paper  takes no time reaching the dustbin. It was removed from there. 

"Madam, what shall I do with blouses?" again he telephones. I tried to convince him  "Can you some thing about them? any invisible joint? or different cloth as  front belt?" " I will try with a lining cloth. But you have to pay me more.  Come and collect them day after"he told me.

Mean while where did keep the receipt ? Again my hunt begins. This time I was not so lucky. It remained elusive.

"Sorry Madhu, I lost your receipt" I had to explain the situation to the tailor.
 " No problem madam, all blouses  are  hung to the hangers here. How many did you give ? Can you identify colours" 
 "Of course... I think so ....Not sure... Are they mine ?  I gave  13 of them" 

Finally I got all of them.  I am glad he finished the task after 25 days and glitches . He neatly packed all of them and  promptly collected the money after handing over.

Eagerly I opened the packet to try my blouses. One was enough to tell me that I miserably failed in my attempt to get them stitched. The bloses are one size smaller than mine and all 13 are going to sit inone corner of  my cupboard eagerly waiting for a day when I loose my weight and proudly to be  displayed  to the world. For now they are of no use to me or perhaps never.

"Is this your tailor bill? I found it in my  Bhagavadgita" my husband asked me with a twinkle in his eyes with   elation.
 "Throw it in the dustbin" I said coolly. The piece of paper which was  preserved like a precious thing till  yesterday is nothing for me  to day. Humans,  relations, fame,youth,  every thing has a life span in this transient world and any thing past it's  lifespan or which has lost it's relevance  is nothing but a piece of scrap from the very next moment .  May be this is what Gita intends to preach me.