11-04-2025, 05:27 AM
Episode 13: Secrets and Sarees
The college day had ended, the halls slowly quieting into their late-afternoon hush. The staff room was half-empty now, files stacked, chalk trays cleaned, fans still running lazily overhead.
Meera and Priya stayed behind, their chairs pulled closer to the window, shoes kicked off under the desk. The tea was long gone, replaced by cold water and unfiltered conversation.
Priya took one look at Meera’s soft peach saree and smirked. “You do realize that blouse is borderline lethal, right?”
Meera raised an eyebrow. “It’s half-sleeved. Conservative by any standard.”
“Sure, sure,” Priya grinned. “But the way it hugs your back? The high neck only makes it worse. Men lose their minds over imagination.”
Meera laughed, head tilting back. “And who exactly are these men losing their minds?”
“Oh, come on,” Priya said, leaning forward like she was about to whisper a scandal. “You walk down that corridor and half the male staff forget what day it is. And don’t get me started on the peons. Last week I caught Ganesh-anna wiping the same window twice while you were in the hallway.”
Meera rolled her eyes. “That’s just his work ethic. Don’t drag me into it.”
“Please,” Priya teased. “You’ve got this whole 'graceful, untouched goddess' thing going on. And you don’t even try.”
“I genuinely don’t,” Meera said, half-smiling. “I dress how I like. Sarees are comfortable. I’m not going to hide my waist like it’s a crime.”
“And you shouldn’t,” Priya said. “Honestly, it’s refreshing. You don’t flirt, you don’t fish for compliments... yet you radiate quiet chaos.”
“Quiet chaos?” Meera repeated, amused. “Is that your poetic way of saying I make people nervous?”
“Oh, very nervous,” Priya replied. “You’ve weaponized silence. Do you know how powerful that is?”
Meera chuckled. “Well, I’m not out here trying to destroy anyone.”
“You’re not trying. That’s the problem. Intentional is one thing. Accidental elegance? That’s what gets them.”
They both laughed, sinking a little deeper into the chairs. The kind of laughter that didn’t come from gossip—but from knowing. From seeing the world tilt its head every time a woman decides not to shrink.
“You know what I find funny?” Meera said, voice softer now. “Everyone assumes if you’re single and well-dressed, you’re waiting for someone.”
Priya snorted. “They think our wardrobes are coded distress signals.”
“Exactly,” Meera smiled. “As if confidence is just camouflage for loneliness.”
“Well,” Priya said, stretching her arms, “let them wonder. Let them flirt with the idea while we flirt with the air.”
Meera raised her bottle in mock salute. “To flirting with the air.”
They clinked plastic bottles like wine glasses and sat back, the sun dipping lower in the sky, lighting their laughter with gold.
No boys. No books. No lesson plans.
Just two women in sarees, winding down the day with just enough edge to keep the silence interesting.
To be continued…
The college day had ended, the halls slowly quieting into their late-afternoon hush. The staff room was half-empty now, files stacked, chalk trays cleaned, fans still running lazily overhead.
Meera and Priya stayed behind, their chairs pulled closer to the window, shoes kicked off under the desk. The tea was long gone, replaced by cold water and unfiltered conversation.
Priya took one look at Meera’s soft peach saree and smirked. “You do realize that blouse is borderline lethal, right?”
Meera raised an eyebrow. “It’s half-sleeved. Conservative by any standard.”
“Sure, sure,” Priya grinned. “But the way it hugs your back? The high neck only makes it worse. Men lose their minds over imagination.”
Meera laughed, head tilting back. “And who exactly are these men losing their minds?”
“Oh, come on,” Priya said, leaning forward like she was about to whisper a scandal. “You walk down that corridor and half the male staff forget what day it is. And don’t get me started on the peons. Last week I caught Ganesh-anna wiping the same window twice while you were in the hallway.”
Meera rolled her eyes. “That’s just his work ethic. Don’t drag me into it.”
“Please,” Priya teased. “You’ve got this whole 'graceful, untouched goddess' thing going on. And you don’t even try.”
“I genuinely don’t,” Meera said, half-smiling. “I dress how I like. Sarees are comfortable. I’m not going to hide my waist like it’s a crime.”
“And you shouldn’t,” Priya said. “Honestly, it’s refreshing. You don’t flirt, you don’t fish for compliments... yet you radiate quiet chaos.”
“Quiet chaos?” Meera repeated, amused. “Is that your poetic way of saying I make people nervous?”
“Oh, very nervous,” Priya replied. “You’ve weaponized silence. Do you know how powerful that is?”
Meera chuckled. “Well, I’m not out here trying to destroy anyone.”
“You’re not trying. That’s the problem. Intentional is one thing. Accidental elegance? That’s what gets them.”
They both laughed, sinking a little deeper into the chairs. The kind of laughter that didn’t come from gossip—but from knowing. From seeing the world tilt its head every time a woman decides not to shrink.
“You know what I find funny?” Meera said, voice softer now. “Everyone assumes if you’re single and well-dressed, you’re waiting for someone.”
Priya snorted. “They think our wardrobes are coded distress signals.”
“Exactly,” Meera smiled. “As if confidence is just camouflage for loneliness.”
“Well,” Priya said, stretching her arms, “let them wonder. Let them flirt with the idea while we flirt with the air.”
Meera raised her bottle in mock salute. “To flirting with the air.”
They clinked plastic bottles like wine glasses and sat back, the sun dipping lower in the sky, lighting their laughter with gold.
No boys. No books. No lesson plans.
Just two women in sarees, winding down the day with just enough edge to keep the silence interesting.
To be continued…
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