18-06-2019, 07:41 PM
Chapter 3
Tailor
That evening, on the day Haria came, my mom decided to go to the tailor for stitching some blouses. My cousin's wedding was coming up soon and she wanted to look perfect as would any female at such a grand occasion.
"Mummy, ami jabo tomar sthe" ("Mom, can I come with you"), I asked her.
"Keno Tor ki kaj okhane" ("Why What will you do there")
"Emni. Ghore boshei ba ki korbo Sobe porikha shesh holo. Ek2 ghure berai noe." ("No reason. Besides, what will I do sitting here My exams just ended. I want to go out more now.") I looked at her with my puppy-dog eyes, which always seem to work.
And it did! My mom smiled and rubbed my hair. "Acha beta, chol tahle." (Okay son, let's go then.") I was extremely excited. Not because I would get to go out, but because now I would be able to see what actually goes on in our local tailor shop.
I had heard from one of my friends that the old man posing as the tailor was a real pervert. In the pretext of taking measurements, he used to grope young girls' tits and asses. I wanted to see that for myself. My mom was wearing the same red color light chiffon sari made of thin fabric. But since it was night-time, there was little risk of it becoming see-through. Underneath she wore the same tight beet-red blouse which showed off her ample cleavage quite attractively.
The tailor shop that she was going to was of a mixed gender type - meaning both men and women were allowed to go there and stitch clothes. The shop had a separate room inside which acted as a trial room and as a measurement room (for ladies). When we entered the shop, it was relatively empty. Only two young girls were there and it seemed that they were leaving as well since they had been talking about payment with the tailor (Kakababu), who was noting things down on his bill-pad. Kakababu was an old man - nearly sixty years old - with a frail body. He had thick glasses on and was essentially bald-headed. I began to doubt whether the stories I had heard of him were actually true.
My mother went and stood beside the girls and said to the tailor, "Kakababu, bhalo achen to" ("Kakababu, how are you") The old man looked up and smiled. Probably the first guy I met looking at her face instead of her luscious tits. "Eta amr chele." ("This is my son!") He said, pointing at me. He smiled at me and I returned the smile with one of my own. "Koyekta blouse r petticoat bananor chilo. Rimli ki bhetore" ("I need you to make some blouses and petticoats Is Rimli inside") By inside, she meant the trial room/measurement room.
"Na, o aaj aseni. Or sorir kharap." ("No, she's not here today. She's ill.")
My mom suddenly seemed concerned. "Tahle maap ke nebe Apni" ("Then who's going to take measurements You")
At that moment, a huge guy - nearly six feet tall - with bulging muscles stepped out from inside the trial room with a young girl. The girl looked about nineteen years old and seemed to be friends with the other two girls who were talking to Kakababu. When she came out, she looked like a mess. Here hair was in shambles, a side of her salwar had slipped from her should which she immediately adjusted and her pallu was missing. The huge man was another story. Despite his heavy build, he had a hideous face. His jaws were not set properly, he hadn't shaved for weeks and beard seemed to poke like needles from his chin, you could literally smell the horrible scent of gutkha from his mouth. He was wearing a dirty tank top and a lungi, he had a great deal of hair on his chest and back, and he smelled like a dirty pig. My mom had to cover her nose as she was standing right next to him.
As soon as he stepped out of the trial room, I could see his hungry eyes measuring my mother from head to toe. She was facing him sideways so she couldn't see as his eyes traced every inch of her body - from her beautiful spotless face to her melon-like tight breasts to her fleshy bare midriff and her luscious sari-covered arse.
When Kakababu settled their bills, the girls started leaving the shop but not before glancing back at the huge beast with a wink and a seductive smile.
"Hain, to ki bolchilen jeno" ("Yes, so what were you saying") The tailor asked her again as she uncovered her mouth to reply.
"Bolchilam je Rimli nei jokhon tahle amar maap ke nebe" ("I was saying if Rimli's not there then who'll be taking my measurements")
"Keno, ei je Haripada nebe. O aji esche amader gram theke. Amar bhaipo hoe." ("Why, Haripada, of course. He just came from our village. He's my nephew.")
My mother was stunned. She glanced back at this brute of a man and caught him leering at her with a disgusting smile. "Dhut! Ki bolchen eta Amar blouse, petticoat er maap o ki kore nebe Apnar nite ki osubidha" ("What! How can you say such a thing How can he take my measurements Why can't you take them") My mother seemed absolutely repulsed by this strange idea. A huge grown man, that too so ugly and uneducated, taking her measurements was something beyond acceptance. She actually felt it was a better idea that Kakababu tried it.
"Keno Ki osubidha Ei je apnar samne jei meyeta berolo tar maap o ei Haripadai niyeche. Apnar chintar kono karon nei. Asole or baba oke amar k6e khub asha kore pathie6e kaj sekhanor jnoo. Jodi apnar khub apotti thake tahle apni porer soptahe aste paren. Totodine asha korchi Rimli'r jor shere jabe." ("Why What is the problem The young girl that left before you was also measured by Haripada. So, you don't have to worry. The thing is, his father sent him to me so that he could learn the trade. However, if you have any problem, then you can always come back next week. I'm sure Rimli will be free of her ailment by then.")
My mother was trapped. The wedding was only two weeks away and the old man usually takes over a week to stitch even the basest of clothes. She had to make a choice. I was standing at the side listening to all of this when she looked towards me as if to ask something. But before she could say anything, I said, "Mummy, ek shopta onek deri hoe jabe. Tar theke bhalo ekuni banie jhamela mitiye dao. Adha-ek ghontar toh byapar." ("Mummy, one week will be too late. It's better you get it over with now. It's only a matter of half-to-one hour.")
Both Kakababu and Haripada smiled at my suggestion. My mother then looked at them and said, "Thikache. Cholun trial room e." ("Fine. Let's get inside the trial room. But on one condition. My son will also be there.")
With that, the three of them entered the trial room.
Tailor
That evening, on the day Haria came, my mom decided to go to the tailor for stitching some blouses. My cousin's wedding was coming up soon and she wanted to look perfect as would any female at such a grand occasion.
"Mummy, ami jabo tomar sthe" ("Mom, can I come with you"), I asked her.
"Keno Tor ki kaj okhane" ("Why What will you do there")
"Emni. Ghore boshei ba ki korbo Sobe porikha shesh holo. Ek2 ghure berai noe." ("No reason. Besides, what will I do sitting here My exams just ended. I want to go out more now.") I looked at her with my puppy-dog eyes, which always seem to work.
And it did! My mom smiled and rubbed my hair. "Acha beta, chol tahle." (Okay son, let's go then.") I was extremely excited. Not because I would get to go out, but because now I would be able to see what actually goes on in our local tailor shop.
I had heard from one of my friends that the old man posing as the tailor was a real pervert. In the pretext of taking measurements, he used to grope young girls' tits and asses. I wanted to see that for myself. My mom was wearing the same red color light chiffon sari made of thin fabric. But since it was night-time, there was little risk of it becoming see-through. Underneath she wore the same tight beet-red blouse which showed off her ample cleavage quite attractively.
The tailor shop that she was going to was of a mixed gender type - meaning both men and women were allowed to go there and stitch clothes. The shop had a separate room inside which acted as a trial room and as a measurement room (for ladies). When we entered the shop, it was relatively empty. Only two young girls were there and it seemed that they were leaving as well since they had been talking about payment with the tailor (Kakababu), who was noting things down on his bill-pad. Kakababu was an old man - nearly sixty years old - with a frail body. He had thick glasses on and was essentially bald-headed. I began to doubt whether the stories I had heard of him were actually true.
My mother went and stood beside the girls and said to the tailor, "Kakababu, bhalo achen to" ("Kakababu, how are you") The old man looked up and smiled. Probably the first guy I met looking at her face instead of her luscious tits. "Eta amr chele." ("This is my son!") He said, pointing at me. He smiled at me and I returned the smile with one of my own. "Koyekta blouse r petticoat bananor chilo. Rimli ki bhetore" ("I need you to make some blouses and petticoats Is Rimli inside") By inside, she meant the trial room/measurement room.
"Na, o aaj aseni. Or sorir kharap." ("No, she's not here today. She's ill.")
My mom suddenly seemed concerned. "Tahle maap ke nebe Apni" ("Then who's going to take measurements You")
At that moment, a huge guy - nearly six feet tall - with bulging muscles stepped out from inside the trial room with a young girl. The girl looked about nineteen years old and seemed to be friends with the other two girls who were talking to Kakababu. When she came out, she looked like a mess. Here hair was in shambles, a side of her salwar had slipped from her should which she immediately adjusted and her pallu was missing. The huge man was another story. Despite his heavy build, he had a hideous face. His jaws were not set properly, he hadn't shaved for weeks and beard seemed to poke like needles from his chin, you could literally smell the horrible scent of gutkha from his mouth. He was wearing a dirty tank top and a lungi, he had a great deal of hair on his chest and back, and he smelled like a dirty pig. My mom had to cover her nose as she was standing right next to him.
As soon as he stepped out of the trial room, I could see his hungry eyes measuring my mother from head to toe. She was facing him sideways so she couldn't see as his eyes traced every inch of her body - from her beautiful spotless face to her melon-like tight breasts to her fleshy bare midriff and her luscious sari-covered arse.
When Kakababu settled their bills, the girls started leaving the shop but not before glancing back at the huge beast with a wink and a seductive smile.
"Hain, to ki bolchilen jeno" ("Yes, so what were you saying") The tailor asked her again as she uncovered her mouth to reply.
"Bolchilam je Rimli nei jokhon tahle amar maap ke nebe" ("I was saying if Rimli's not there then who'll be taking my measurements")
"Keno, ei je Haripada nebe. O aji esche amader gram theke. Amar bhaipo hoe." ("Why, Haripada, of course. He just came from our village. He's my nephew.")
My mother was stunned. She glanced back at this brute of a man and caught him leering at her with a disgusting smile. "Dhut! Ki bolchen eta Amar blouse, petticoat er maap o ki kore nebe Apnar nite ki osubidha" ("What! How can you say such a thing How can he take my measurements Why can't you take them") My mother seemed absolutely repulsed by this strange idea. A huge grown man, that too so ugly and uneducated, taking her measurements was something beyond acceptance. She actually felt it was a better idea that Kakababu tried it.
"Keno Ki osubidha Ei je apnar samne jei meyeta berolo tar maap o ei Haripadai niyeche. Apnar chintar kono karon nei. Asole or baba oke amar k6e khub asha kore pathie6e kaj sekhanor jnoo. Jodi apnar khub apotti thake tahle apni porer soptahe aste paren. Totodine asha korchi Rimli'r jor shere jabe." ("Why What is the problem The young girl that left before you was also measured by Haripada. So, you don't have to worry. The thing is, his father sent him to me so that he could learn the trade. However, if you have any problem, then you can always come back next week. I'm sure Rimli will be free of her ailment by then.")
My mother was trapped. The wedding was only two weeks away and the old man usually takes over a week to stitch even the basest of clothes. She had to make a choice. I was standing at the side listening to all of this when she looked towards me as if to ask something. But before she could say anything, I said, "Mummy, ek shopta onek deri hoe jabe. Tar theke bhalo ekuni banie jhamela mitiye dao. Adha-ek ghontar toh byapar." ("Mummy, one week will be too late. It's better you get it over with now. It's only a matter of half-to-one hour.")
Both Kakababu and Haripada smiled at my suggestion. My mother then looked at them and said, "Thikache. Cholun trial room e." ("Fine. Let's get inside the trial room. But on one condition. My son will also be there.")
With that, the three of them entered the trial room.
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