A thousand stitches ran across the mounts and valleys of the lazy golden plateau lying under the fingers of tailor Chandran Pillai. His dull tailoring shop brightened up in soon to be departing temple frills hanging above the table.
The village men behind me cheered him, ‘ah! she found the handsomest man in the village and his pictures would soon travel to far away places.’ He wouldn’t look up pretending to be busy with a coy smile.
The golden frills tucked to be parted, the little towers of thread peeked through the glass to glimpse the clothes in queue.