Page 15 of Made in Mumbai

“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.

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