February 26, 2024
People Watching
It is mid Saturday, and I’m walking into the dress shop for some final alterations. As I enter the shop, I wave at the workers, and they greet me, recognising me as I walk in. To be fair, I’m not their typical customer, but there is a sense of comfort in entering a shop where the people know you. I take my dress to the back to show Asrar, the man I have worked with before, what alterations I want done.
“You did not come in when you said you would, you must have gotten busy,” he says.
He is referring to the prior weeks when I would call saying I was bringing in the dress that day and then texting to say the next day and eventually giving up on getting to him on a weekday with my relentless schedule.
“Yeah sorry, I have been very busy with school, and I haven’t been able to bring it down,” I respond.
He doesn’t seem mad or even annoyed. A kind smile remains on his face as he asks what I would like to have done with the dress. Again, he takes some measurements and jots some things down. When I have something to throw away, he produces a teeny-tiny trash bin from behind the counter. After taking his notes, he sends off a boy to see how long it will take the tailor to fix the dress. While waiting for my time quote, I sit and chat with him. We talk about the construction on the street outside and the school work I’m doing here. This prompts me to ask him to take my group’s survey. He kindly agrees and I text him the link to the google form which he fills out immediately, and it prompts a conversation about rainwater harvesting. He tells my group the dresses will be done in a couple of hours. On my way out, I ask him to share the survey with all of his friends. Again, he kindly agrees.
After a yummy brunch, I walk back to the shop. Along the way, a small river of snot starts flowing from my nose, and I attempt to cover it with my hand until I get back to the shop where I can ask for some tissues. My dress is waiting perched on the counter when I walk up, and when I ask for a tissue, the shop manager sends one of the other workers to get me some.
“You wait here ma’am. He will be right back”
Sure enough, a couple of minutes later the boy comes back with a small package of napkins. I have no idea where he ran to to get them, but they let me use as many as I need and give me some extra for my bag. Asrar isn’t there anymore, so I don’t get to say goodbye to him. I grab my altered dress, say goodbye to the workers remaining, and head on my way.
I was actually a little sad leaving the dress shop on Saturday because I no longer have an excuse to come and chat with them under the veil of ‘fixing a dress’. It is moments like these that make me sad to leave India as a whole. I don’t think anyone’s keeping track, but in a previous blog, I started by stating that I was straight up not having a good time. I remember sitting on my deathbed in Hampi, looking at a calendar and counting how many Saturdays I had until the end. Five. Five Saturdays, that’s not that much. Well now I straight up AM having a good time, and there’s only two Saturdays left. Two! How is that fair?
Travel experiences can be remembered in different ways, but my favorite memories always come back to the people. Back in the states, I know they will come back to the Biome team and our ways of challenging each other, making each other laugh, and navigating this together. They will come back to silly conversations with my roommate. They will come back to hyping up strangers at an EDM concert and a pick-up soccer group remembering my name and having a shouted conversation with the guys on the motorcycle next to my auto in traffic. Contrary to what Hampi Elena thought, I will be very sad to leave India when the next two weeks are up. When I wear my new dress, I will be thinking of Asrar and his little trash can in the back of the Fashion Wave shop.
But that’s enough of that. The next two weeks are grind time and I’m preparing to absolutely lock in; I hope you are too. May your successes be bountiful, and may the odds be ever in your favor.
By Elena