Page 28 of Made in Mumbai

Coorg. Kodagu. Madikeri. Such a beauty.

Maya had been plastered to the window of their car since the moment they had driven up the plateaus from Mysore. It was all lush, dark green, inviting everybody to just run into the thick tropical forests and sing ‘Kashmir main, tu Kanyakumari!”

Ok, not everybody. Aarya was busy vibing to music beside her and Gautam was on his phone in the front seat. They had landed early in the morning, driven the almost three hours to their hotel, dropped their stuff and were now driving up to the silk mill. It was one of the oldest silk mills of Karnataka and Gautam vouched for its quality. He wasn’t too sure about customisation though. And that is why they were here. To run test pieces and ensure that they got exactly what they wanted.

“Right here,” Gautam pointed, glancing up from his phone.

“This is the old mill, you don’t want to go to the new mill?” Their driver asked.

“No. This one.”

“Have you driven around here before?” Maya asked. His shoulder stiffened.

“Yes.”

She took the cue and zipped up. She wouldn’t have mentioned his truck-driving days, but he didn’t have to act so defensive. It was a feat that he had grown to this place from that. He should have been proud of himself, advertised to everybody and their mother that the mills he drove trucks to now were his suppliers and partners.

Their car wove through fresh tea plantations glinting with the rain’s dew. A small waterfall burst out from the rock on the other side.Wow. “Can we walk around here later on?” She wondered aloud.

“Will it produce silk for us?” Gautam burned.

“If I collect silkworms then why not?” She burned back, looking for laughs. She found none. Aarya was still vibing to the music she had shared with him on the flight here. She kicked his leg. He glanced at her.Ha ha, she mimed. He smiled.Die, she mimed. And he grinned.

“If you are done chit-chatting, care to get out of the car?” Gautam’s curt voice startled her. And Maya looked up, only to find them parked. At the end of the road sat a small red-brick structure.

“Will this mill be able to produce to our scale?” Aarya asked, pulling the AirPods out of his ears.

Gautam just got out and tugged on his cuffs. He wore an olive bomber jacket over his uniform of white shirt and black slacks. His shoes, for a change, were weather-appropriate. Maya adjusted her white silk dupatta and got out. She had chosen a full white kasavu-inspired salwar-kameez, hoping to get a few photographs in the tea gardens. With the grump marching in front of her though, that did not seem possible. Unless she produced silkworms from tea bushes.

Aarya nudged his shoulder into hers — “What?”

“I dressed up and all, and I can’t even take a photo in this beautiful place,” she whispered.

He pulled his phone out and aimed it at her. As if on an unsaid cue, they slowed their steps, Maya slipping back towards the backdrop of tea plantations. She flipped her hair back to pose just when the grump turned. He didn’t even need to glare. His cold eyes were enough to chill even the chilled weather. Maya flicked her finger down her neck, squirming back to him — “Insects,” she winced. He turned and kept striding.

“That video is gold,” Aarya whispered in her ear. She elbowed him.

“Gautam avare,” a local in a checkered shirt and lungi greeted him. “Welcome. Ganeshan sir called you are coming.”

“Thank you. This is my team — Maya and Aarya.”

“Swagata, swagata,” the man folded his hands, leading them inside the mill.

“They have a bigger, more famous power loom mill in the town. But this is their old, lesser-known handloom facility,” Gautam informed. “The designs you want will be woven better here.”

Maya replaced her fun hat for work hat and got down to business. She knew what she wanted to see, she had pointed it out to Aarya too. So they separated from Gautam as he went with the manager to work out costs and logistics.

Beautiful threads of silk went through skilled hands and looms, only to emerge in the form of strong, durable fabric. Fabric that would become heirloom sarees to survive generations to come. Maya tested the fibres and fabrics, they were solid. The workers were skilled. She began opening some of their samples and directing the head there on what they wanted. She knew English and the process became smooth.

“Is this ok, Aarya?” She held her iPad out to him. He had been on call ever since they had entered the mill. Things didn’t look right with him.

Maya worked nonetheless, sitting beside one weaver herself and getting tiny samples assembled. She didn’t know where the time went. It was only when the people around her began to get up and stretch that she realised it was lunch time.

“Are you ready to leave?” Gautam came and stood behind her.

“Hey. Umm… we will need to come back again. They are breaking for lunch and the samples are still not ready.”

“We will have to come back tomorrow. They have a half day.”

---