My shoes were tapping fast… my legs were shivering… a drop of sweat from my head was sliding down my cheek to my neck… I could hear my own heartbeat. 'How much longer?' I thought, feeling extremely tense.
Why hasn't he come yet?
Will he actually stitch this blouse… or will I get caught?
They said this tailor is famous, so I had no choice. This is my very first blouse… how will he stitch it? If he ruins it… what should I do? Should I come back and fight, or just keep quiet and sit down?
If someone figures out this blouse is for me, I have to walk past this place every day for work. How will I face anyone? What should I do so I don't get caught?
What should I say?
If anyone asks, I'll just say, 'I don't know, my family asked me to get it stitched exactly as it is, just tightening the arms a bit.' That should be enough… they won't suspect anything.
The aunty who came before me brought a huge bag. She has to explain all of them and give her measurements… oh boy, this will take a lot of time.
In the meantime, if anyone sees me, that's it for me… Why did I get into this mess? It's better to leave than deal with this tension. As I turned my legs to stand up…
The aunty next to me asked, 'What is this, dear? Has the tailor still not come… how long will it take?'
'I don't know, aunty. When I asked inside earlier, they said 10 minutes. It's already been 15 minutes.'
Aunty said, 'I came from very far because they said he stitches really well… if he doesn't even come on time… who knows when he will deliver it…'
Ah… (In my head: 'If he doesn't give it in two days, I'm done for… My family is going out of town after a long time. If he gives it by then, I can wear that saree I've been wishing for. It's been 6 months since I bought that saree… I've just been looking at it all this time.
If he doesn't give it on time, who knows how many more days it will take to fulfill my desire to wear that saree…')
The tailor arrived. He looked about 60 years old.
He called the aunty first.
She looked around 40 years old. She looked good—fair skin, long braided hair, medium build shoulders. Even covered with her saree, her chest was overflowing. Normal waist, broad hips… built to make any man turn his head.
Sigh… if only I were born a girl, maybe my body would look like hers too. But what can I do, I ended up with a man's life… stuck with pants and shirts. Never getting to experience the joy of a saree and blouse… I thought, feeling envious.
Meanwhile, she was called in for measurements. Both went inside with a measuring tape… but that room was visible to me.
She went inside and removed her saree pallu; her breasts seemed to burst out of her blouse.
Tailor: 'Who stitched this blouse, child? They ruined it.'
Aunty: 'That's why I came to you, sir… Please stitch it well.'
He measured her with the tape and struggled to write it down in his book.
Watching this scene… I imagined myself in that aunty's place. (*'If I were born a girl, maybe I would have grown them that big by now… They would be taking measurements and stitching for me like that too…'*).
The tailor uncle looked at me and called, 'Come here.'
Oh no, I froze in fear, thinking he might hit me for staring. He called again. Thinking, 'Okay, this blouse is important,' I gathered courage, stood up, and walked slowly.
'Come fast, dear,' he said.
Dear/girl? Do I look like a girl? Did I accidentally wear my nighty out this morning? No, I wore standard shirt and pants… I thought, checking myself as I walked over.
'Write down the numbers I tell you in this book,' he said.
She stood there without her pallu… as he measured her and called out numbers, I wrote them down and observed how measurements were taken. (Because I watched with deep interest, I learned how measurements are done…)
After that, when she was explaining designs, my mind was blown. Every single design had a specific name.
All these days, I thought it was just about draping a saree, wearing a blouse, and taking photos…
Only today did I realize how much background work goes into making one blouse.
He suggested which designs suit certain fabrics and colors, saying, 'This will look good, that will look good…' She agreed, saying 'Yes, true,' and finalized whatever the tailor uncle suggested.
Okay, he promised to deliver it in 10 days, and she left.
I went up, handed over the blouse piece and the sample measurement blouse, and said, 'Stitch a blouse for me.'
He looked at me in shock. I put on a clueless face, thinking if I said something wrong… then realized I said 'Stitch a blouse for me.' I quickly covered up, 'I mean, stitch it for someone at home… I accidentally said for me, sorry.'
He normalized, took it, checked it, and asked, 'Which design?'
I blinked twice… 'I don't know, they didn't tell me anything, uncle.'
'So should you go ask them, or should I stitch it however I think looks best?' he asked. I replied, 'Stitch it however you like.'
Who knows what he understood… he gave a soft smile and said, 'Alright, come tomorrow to pick it up.'
Not knowing what to say or if I should mention anything else, I paused. I felt an urge to say something, but there was no scope to talk further. Just as I was leaving, I remembered: 'Make the arms a little tight.' He agreed.
As I walked outside, my heart felt light and happy. An unknown confidence washed over me… 'I am getting my first blouse stitched!' I was so happy I wanted to dance.
The whole day went by in that excitement—how would the design turn out, how would it fit… Lost in these thoughts while lying on my bed, playing with the ribbon design on the nighty I was wearing, an idea struck me:
[*I live with my parents, but my room is on the upper floor, so at night I dress up as a girl… and in the morning I handle all responsibilities as a boy.*]
Idea: He said he'd deliver the blouse in 1 day anyway… My parents still have 1 day before leaving town… If I wake up in the morning, buy 2 or 3 good blouse pieces, and request him, he'll deliver them by the day after tomorrow.
It will take a week for my parents to return. That's perfect.
I can wear a different blouse every day… match different sarees… How great would it be to get that first blouse, try it on, and then hand over the rest?
With this plan, I woke up at 8 AM and went to the tailor shop; it was closed. Went back at 9 AM; closed. Went at 10 AM; it was open, and he was there. Seeing me, he gave a gentle smile: 'Come in, child. I stitched your blouse all night. Will you take it now or try it on?'
My mind went blank… I was speechless. Was I caught? I couldn't even think of what to do. My hands and feet went numb, and my heart beat rapidly. All the excitement evaporated in a second. I faintly opened my mouth and said softly, 'Why would I wear it? I told you it's for someone at home…'
He immediately replied, 'Oh, really? Fine, take it… When will you come back with the other blouses?'
'I don't know, I'll come whenever they tell me at home…'
Hearing that, he laughed out loud and said, 'Alright, go on.'
'How much is it, uncle?' I asked.
'Nothing needed, child, go ahead,' he said.
With an empty mind and an empty face, I took the two blouses, put them in my bag, and walked out.
I couldn't understand anything. What did he realize? What should I say? I was planning to give more blouses next… did I get caught? What if he troubles me later? Lost in these thoughts, I came home, went to my room, and locked the door.
Anyway, first I wanted to see how my very first own blouse turned out. Excitement took over—I opened it and saw it was neatly folded. Holding it in my hands, I looked at myself in the mirror. 'Ah, finally this dream is coming true,' I thought as I unfolded it. Deep low neck… clear cleavage line… square back open with a knot. Wow, I went crazy for it—I had to try it on immediately.
Taking off my t-shirt, as I put it on, my chest felt heavy, my throat went dry, and my body turned cold with a dizzying rush. As my arms went into the sleeves, I got goosebumps. Sliding smoothly, it settled perfectly around my underarms and hugged my arms accurately… yet my arm movement was completely comfortable.
An indescribable joy on my face… all these days, even if my mother's blouses fit my body, the arms were always loose. Today, for the very first time, it fit my arms perfectly… tears almost welled up in my eyes.
Slowly reaching my right hand back, I grabbed the rest of the blouse and slid my arm in. It settled so comfortably, as if saying, 'This is your place.' Both my arms were inside the blouse.
Looking in the mirror… my eyes were sparkling like Jyothika in the *Chandramukhi* movie. With the deep front neck, there were only 3 hooks. As I pinned them, it felt so natural, like a familiar place where things belonged—my small chest sat simply inside the blouse.
By the time I fastened the 2nd hook, it gave a great shape to my chest. Fastening the 3rd hook… without even a millimeter off, it settled perfectly under the bust.
Looking in the mirror, my chest was set perfectly. Adjusting a bit and pulling towards the center… wow, a cleavage appeared that made me want to kiss myself. Without me doing anything, when I adjusted with my hand, I realized he had given very soft padding underneath for bust support.
My respect for him skyrocketed… now I understood why he is so famous—he stitches by truly understanding the customer.
When I turned around to look at the back, it hugged my body seamlessly.
Without a second thought, whether he guessed it or not, right at that minute I felt like getting 10 more blouses stitched by him.
Suppressing my feelings, as I took off the blouse, it felt like removing a part of my own body. But since I couldn't afford to get caught, I removed it, folded it very carefully, hid it inside, and came out normally. Now, I am left wondering whether to go buy more blouses or what to do next.
Note: Please don't mind about the english , i had to use translator to save time. The actual original story is in telugu. Please comment yaar.. your comments boosts me alot.
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