Kissmet

Saree Cinderella

Malini

Nila showed me to my room and left me to get ready for the gathering. The room is clean with white décor. There is a small glass teapoy and a wooden armchair, almirah. There was also a dresser with a mirror and a small stool. The large windows offered a nice view of the Kodaikanal Lake. The four-poster bed seemed too lonely, so I dived face-first onto the fluffy cloud and spread my arms and legs like a starfish giving it the much-needed company.

I turned to my right to find the bathroom, with an amazing shower and a bathtub that had my name all over it. I quickly undressed and leisurely took a long lazy shower to wash off some of the tiredness. I dressed in one of the fluffy white robes and wrapped my hair in a towel.

I unpacked my luggage to hang my clothes in the wardrobe so that I could decide what I wanted to wear for the gathering. Inside the wardrobe, there was a dress on the hanger. I took it outside to get a closer look at the light.

The dress was a stunning silver saree. I don't know what the material was but it was so soft and delicate to touch like the moonlight itself was spun into a fabric. The design was stark but the fabric was the best part which shone like glitter when placed under light – simple and utterly beautiful, just what I prefer. There was a small tag attached to it with the beautiful calligraphy logo of Moonbeams indicating it was one of Nila's creations.

What I love about Moonbeams is its mission to save and preserve the culture of handicraft-weaved sarees. The digital era of online shopping, where people started believing the more the cost the more the quality, became the bane of kaithari nesavaalargal (handicraft weavers). The weavers' inability to bring their products to customers, even though the cost is cheap, led to the endangerment of this enchanting tradition. I am so proud of Nila for making this effort to hire those weavers and blend their designs with her ideas of today's fashion and to create a platform where people can access them easily.

And I believe this saree is also a handicraft-weaved fabrication. There was also a note inside in Nila's unmistakably chicken-scrawled handwriting. People would think she is a doctor or something if they saw her letter.

Don't you dare refuse to wear this saree, then you

leave me with no other choice than to show uncle and

aunty, the love poem Rahul gave you

- Nila

She signed her name with lots of kissy faces, in which they truly look like a person with constipation. Sketching is definitely not her forte. And I can't believe she still threatens me with something that happened in high school. But what she doesn't know is I was the one who wrote the poem ... for Nithees. What can I say after being caught red-handed by her with the letter and a huge love-sick grin on my face, oh it's nothing, just that I am head over heels for your anna and I wrote him a poem. Right, can't do that. So, I told her a random boy's name from class, and the letter was given by him and she has been hassling me ever since. Honestly, I don't even remember whose name I have told her that's how old news it is.

I couldn't understand why she would think I would refuse to wear such a beautiful saree until I saw the blouse. The blouse was sleeveless with the same material as the saree, with a plunging V neckline and the back was completely exposed with holes and lace for strapping it close in a crisscrossed fashion.

I ... am going to kill her.

How did she expect to wear it in this cold? And how do I even tie the knot by myself? I looked at the clock to see that it was already fifteen past 5 pm and I need to hurry.

I dried my hair and swept it off on one side with a side partition and pinned some of the sparkling clips. I opted for minimal makeup, a white stone bindi, and a pair of diamond teardrop earrings Nila gave me last year for my birthday.

I draped the saree but I tied the blouse as best as I could. I gave it a tug to make sure everything is in place and after confirming I am decent enough and peeked outside my room, looked left and right to make sure the hallway was empty (had to be cautious to not flash anyone). I quickly dashed into Nila's room on the left. The room was silent otherwise the sound of the shower.

"Nila! What kind of a blouse is this!? How do I even tie this, you better help me!"

I was greeted only with the sound of falling water.

"Girl, are you hearing me? By the way, I don't care about Rahul's letter." I offered nonchalantly. In truth, I am terrified, because amma would recognize that I wrote that poem in a millisecond.

No answer again.

"Oi, answer me! I am not above entering the bathroom if you don't respond." I said knocking on the bathroom door.

No sign of her.

"I am gonna snoop" I sing songed hoping that would do the trick.

Upon entering the room, only then I did notice what was there. The room had the same décor as mine with a few personal belongings. There was a book rack, I inspected those titles and was surprised to find books and notes on Indian laws. Probably Nithees dumped his old books here. I touched those spines that he once had touched and hoped to feel a phantom of his presence in them. Okay, that was dramatic. You could feel nothing but dust and cobwebs from those decade-old books which would sure give me asthma if inhaled. What can I say, love makes you blind and apparently kills your brain cells one at a time. There were other books with half-naked men on the cover which I promptly ignored. That must have been Nila's smut collection.

A navy-blue velvet box on the nightstand caught my attention. There were gold embossed letters on the box – 'Khazana jewelry'. It felt too intrusive to open the box but curiosity got the better of me. I opened it to find a beautiful, rather extravagant princess-cut diamond ring resting snugly on the cushion. Where I prefer simplicity, she prefers luxury and this ring was so Nila.

This must not be an engagement ring. She would have surely told me if anything important happened, especially something on this scale, the cute angel on my right shoulder whispered.

But I don't think she would buy something so lavish when she was saving a lot for her company, the pitch-forked angel on my left shoulder reasoned.

Even if we hadn't met for the past five years, I am sure she would have told me about this, the white-robed beauty with a harp replied.

I was too focused on my internal monologue to realize the running water had stopped.

"You shouldn't be here." a deep voice came from behind; it startled me so much I dropped the box which knocked the glass frame on the nightstand. The frame shattered, from which a small piece sliced my feet and a drop of blood welled from the cut.

"Ow!"

I turned to find the only person I try to avoid the whole week, freshly out of the shower looking like a guy from Gillette Guard ad drying his hair with a towel, wearing a blue striped vest and olive-green shorts.