“Hello? Hello? Helloooo?” I could barely hear the voice on the other end. Finally, a voice said “Is this Mrinmayi”? And that’s how it all began!

The voice was faint, nervous I thought, the tone uncertain, querulous. I couldn’t tell much about the lady but I was certain she was not a Maharashtrian by the way she pronounced my name! Well, we fixed up an appointment and Auntyji came to my store for the first time with a pitara of heirloom sarees, fabric, lace and borders.  A sweet old lady I thought as we chatted over a cup of tea. As is my usual practice, I went through everything that she had brought along, but insisted that I would make only one garment to start with. Auntyji agreed to all my suggestions. A date was fixed for the trial.

When she arrived for the trial, I noticed that Auntyji’s persona had undergone a complete change. Gone were the uncertainty and the nervousness. She was assertive and insistent, going through every tiny detail of the stitching, inspecting the colour of the thread, the way the hooks were stitched on, how the piping looked on the inside. It was endless. For a seemingly simple kurta, she wanted many changes. After three trials Auntyji was still not happy. There were too many complaints I thought. It did not make sense.

Is there something else going on here, I wondered. Was she lonely? Where was her family? Were her children living far away? Did she have friends? That was probably it. I realised that Auntyji’s visits to my store were “an outing” for her. A contact with another person, something she looked forward to. I was her friend. I could not break her faith. I would not.

So, after the third rejection, I called Auntyji and asked her for a week to give her the ready kurta with all the changes she wanted.

The day arrived. Actually, I hadn’t changed a thing, just given it some final finishing touches!

So it was with some trepidation that I waited as Auntyji tried on the kurta. But she loved it! It was exactly the way she wanted it!  After that, more garments were made from the beautiful fabrics that came out of that pitara. There were many more trials, many more rejections, many more cups of tea, lunches, birthdays celebrated together and a lovely enduring friendship that blossomed between Auntyji and me!

– As narrated to Neelu Joglekar