I’m back to my city in the Southern tip of India after a significant three years far away in New York. So many things have changed. The local festival season of Pongala is a great time to roam over the bustling suburbs, to explore the recent trends of my lovely city.
As I walked, I could not but stare at the display window of the dilapidated shop on the side walk.
The sight of a young princely man in a photo frame…he was not any of our Rajas..he was not one of our curly hair chested film heroes either..! I was curious, but then who?
He was the employee of that tiny dark tailoring shop in the suburbs, as mentioned by his employer.
At a point when young men of his age might be dreaming of suits, did he rewind a century behind? No, its the balance sheet of a prosperous religious soap season that ended a few months back on our television channels, when my grand parents piously clamped themselves to the chairs post dinner, hesitant to even attend phone calls. The young tailor was an actor in one of such godly soaps.