clothes......

a lot of things change. names change, friends change, initials change, television programmes change, relationships change, and even humans change. once a kind hearted man could change into a greedy money-loving idiot in a few days. change can be good, nevertheless change can be bad too.

my life has been turned upside down; completely changed. from a low caste cart puller, i have now become the designer who has become an overnight success. thanks to Project Runway. i design clothes for both men and women. during the competition i designed a lot of clothes and those were the creation of my imagination. i let my mind wander into the worlds of materials and fabrics. like a horse let loose, it ran wildly. my creations were alive and they had a mind on their own. they would whisper to me the way to cut, sew and assemble them. the judges called my works 'unpredictable', 'magnificent' and 'superbly wonderful'.

i became the newbie who made headlines in the world of fashion. the baby face designer who would earn thousands for his next line of designs. i was the envy of all. my life turned a complete 180 degrees, from living a hut , i now own the biggest bungalow in Beverly Hills. i have jennifer lopez in speed dial and my neighbour is justin timberlake. the ones that i have drooled over are now my closest friends. no more singlets and khaki shorts, its tuxedo and t-shirts with jeans.

but i am not happy. the fabrics have gone mute. i can't hear them anymore. when i touch them, there is no feelings, no affection. nothing. i create clothes which are not mine. highly demanded they have lost their authenticity. they are not mine. look at the set of clothes hung up there, next the cabinet. they are my next line of design. all added up, they would probably bring me millions. i suppose. however i have made up my mind. i don't want that money. i want 'me' back. i want the whisper of the fabrics back.

i looked at them , a short glance over the clothes that didn't belong to me. its high time i made a decision. now, i shall act on it. i grasped the match box from the table beside me. a fast swip of the match, and i saw my freedom. my way out. its time. i threw the lighted match onto the pile of clothes in front of me. they caught on light. i saw happiness ahead, freedom and the old me. i walked out of there with the satisfaction of correcting my wrong.