Shourya dashed into his house. His father’s limp body, covered in white, lay in the living room. He collapsed on the floor covering his face with his hands. “Shourya, I want you to take over the reins of our showroom. I am not able to handle it anymore. No more excuses!” These were his father’s parting words which would now haunt him forever. “What is this pappa? You are always nagging me about leaving my job and looking after your business. Don’t you think it is unfair? I am an engineer. What will I do, sitting at the cashier’s desk in your saree showroom? Why can’t you let Uncle Nityanand manage your business? He is an experienced hand. And pappa, managing a saree showroom is no rocket science. Anybody can do it. So, why jeopardize my career?” Shourya had stomped out of the house spewing these bitter words.   Shrimati Silks was the result of Chetan Gowda’s years of blood, toil, tears, and sweat. In his younger days, he used to carry bundles of sarees from house to house to sell. Slowly but steadily, he had risen. Initially, for a few years he had rented out a room to sell sarees. After nearly 3 decades of slogging, he had bought a showroom in a busy marketplace in Bengaluru. Whether it was the fruits of his hard work or the quality of the wide range of sarees that he sold, his showroom had grown to be one of the best in the city. Be it weddings, festivals, or traditional ceremonies people thronged to Shrimati Silks. The showroom was named after his wife Shrimati who had passed away after delivering Shourya.  Chetan dreamed that one-day Shourya would carry on his business. But that was not meant to be. Shourya had graduated in engineering from a prestigious college and had started working in a private company in Delhi. He showed little interest in his dad’s business. Chetan realized much later in life that his mollycoddling had made Shourya grow up to be  self-centered and brash. *** A few relatives, friends, and workers at the saree showroom helped Shourya to perform the funeral rites. After nearly 15 days when Shourya was packing to leave Nityanand, Chetan’s right-hand man walked in with a letter in his hand. “Shourya, I am leaving for my village for a few months. Till the time I come back, you have to handle the showroom. My daughter, Shree will guide you in my absence. She knows the in and out of the business. Your father left this letter for you. He asked me to hand it over to you in case of his death.” He walked away without waiting for Shourya’s response. Shourya sat with his hands on his head. “What now?” he thought as he opened the letter. “Shourya, by the time you read this letter I would have left for my eternal abode. It has taken me years to build the business. I don’t want my efforts to go down the drain. You always say that handling my saree business is no rocket science and that anybody can do it. The time has come for you to prove it. Son, take over the business and steer it forward.  Only then will my soul rest in peace.” Tears appeared in Shourya’s eyes without warning and this time he let the dam burst. His shoulders shuddered as he let out a loud wail. He had broken his father’s heart but now there was no going back. He was left with no choice but to stay back and handle the showroom. The next day he sauntered into his dad’s showroom at around 11.30. A huge, silver Ganpati idol was placed at the entrance. Seeing five men, past their prime manning the counter, Shourya slapped his forehead with his palm.  Sarees were neatly piled in rows at the display unit. The salesmen folded their hands and bowed when they spotted Shourya. Shourya just waved out and entered his dad’s cabin. Switching on the AC, he plonked on the chair throwing one leg over the other. “All I have to do is sit here till evening. I will come here till Uncle Nityanand returns and then I will look for a job here in Bengaluru. By doing this, I can kill two birds with one stone. I can supervise dad’s business as well as have my own career.” The corners of his lips curved with this thought. “Hello Shourya, I am Shree. Welcome to Shrimati Silks”, a euphonious voice broke his chain of thoughts. A pair of big, round eyes met his as he looked up. Dark, wavy hair bordered her dusky, oval face. The radiant smile accentuated her sharp features. “Hello, I want you to familiarize me with this place. And call me sir.” Shourya’s eyebrows furrowed and his facial muscles contracted. His words stung Shree like a bee. “How different he is from his father!” she thought. With a curt nod, she asked Shourya to follow her. Shourya walked a few steps ahead of her with his hands thrust deep into his trouser pockets. “We have casual silk, handloom, and cotton sarees displayed in the first floor. The range starts from 500 and goes on to 10,000 rupees. Let me introduce the sales staff to you. Meet Suresh uncle, Vinay uncle, Ravi uncle, and Narayan uncle. They have been working here for the last 30 years,” Shree elucidated. “Why such old men at the counter? I feel we need smart, young, and educated salespeople. What seemed right 30 years ago may not hold good now. We need to change with the times.” The men manning the counter put down their heads in humiliation at Shourya’s cold words. Shree chose to ignore and walked up the stairs to the 1st floor “This floor is exclusively for wedding sarees. The range starts from Rs.5000 and goes on to a lakh.” She walked up to each counter and explained the specialty of the sarees displayed there. Shourya pretended to listen, and then walked back to his cabin. Through the glass door of his cabin, he could see Shree bustling around the showroom attending customers, giving instructions to the sales team, and speaking to the cashier.  The next few days went on smoothly. By the end of the week, most of the salesmen had quit. They could not handle Shourya’s high-handed attitude. Shree kept to her work and spoke to Shourya only when spoken to. She neither addressed him as sir nor called him by his name. One morning she stormed into Shourya’s cabin, “Today two salesmen have called in sick. Please help me to attend to customers.”  “Why drag me into everything? Why can’t you manage it alone?” Shourya hollered but seeing the throng of customers, he reluctantly stood behind the counter.  “I am looking for a rust-colored, silk saree,” a young lady squeaked. “Now, what is rust color? I don’t quite get it. I will place the sarees in front of you, and you select from them.” Shourya placed a pile of sarees on the table.  “Where is Vinay Uncle? He knows my choice of sarees.” Hearing these words Shourya’s eyebrows knitted together. “You have come here to buy sarees, right? Go ahead, and make a choice. Vinay doesn’t work here anymore.”  Noticing that the customer was getting up to leave Shree butted in. “Hello, ma’am you are visiting the shop after a long time. Can you give me a minute, please?  A bundle of sarees has just been delivered. It has the latest collections. You can relax and have coffee by then. I will bring all the rust-colored sarees available and I will help you choose the best out of the lot”. The customer nodded her head in agreement. Shree gestured to Shourya to follow her. When they were out of earshot, “Can you help me carry the bundles that are there in the warehouse, please? “, she mumbled. “What? Are you out of your mind? I am the owner of this showroom. Do you even remember that? Call the helpers to carry the bundle. How dare you call me for such measly work?” Shourya thundered. “The helpers have not come in today. I heard that you lashed out at them yesterday. The customer whom I am attending to now is from an elite family. She is scheduled to get married next month. You seemed to have rubbed her the wrong way. I am trying to salvage that. Her family is our old customer. They will come to us for her wedding sarees. So, now if you are satisfied with my explanation, please help me.” Shourya had no choice but to follow her. He grits his teeth fuming with anger.  4 huge bundles of sarees were placed in the corner. Shourya closed his eyes, nodding his head from right to left, he pulled up his shirt sleeves. Shree couldn’t help but stare at his bulging biceps. “Instead of growing his biceps if this moron had concentrated on developing the cells of his brains it would have been of great help.” This thought made Shree laugh out loud. Shourya looked up at her with flared nostrils. “You are making fun of me. Are you?” he growled. Shree pursed her lips and gave him a hand at lifting the bundle. Her fingers lightly brushed against his hand. She felt a slight tremor pass through her body. It was quite a sight watching the high, and mighty Shourya carrying a huge bundle on his shoulder. The smile refused to leave her lips. “Stop smiling! What’s so funny!” hissed Shourya.  After he had carried the fourth bundle, he plonked on the plastic chair panting. Shourya pressed his shoulders with his fingers. “So much work to sell one saree!” he frowned. That was when a thought crossed his mind. “Pappa used to carry bundles like this almost every day.” Out of nowhere, a lone tear laced the corner of his eyes. Shree stood staring at his furrowed forehead. She could read his mind like an open book. She felt like running her fingers over his broad back but controlled herself. Placing a glass of water in Shourya’s hands she quickly selected a few rust-colored silk sarees and sprinted towards the customer.  From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Shree pick up each saree as if it were a trophy and place it over the customer’s shoulder. Her eyes widened and narrowed as she spoke to the customer. The lady selected 4 out of the lot. Shourya was amazed at Shree’s selling skills. Shree also noted down orders for the next month. With a few staff left at the showroom, Shourya found it difficult to handle the work pressure. He was putting in almost 16 hours of work. “How did Pappa handle all this? It certainly isn’t easy,” he thought. “The auditors are here today. I am not able to handle all their queries single-handedly. Chetan sir always sat through these sessions with me,” when the accountant called Shourya, he flew into a fit of rage. “What are we paying you for? And how do you think I will answer the auditor’s queries?”, Shourya hollered venting out his frustration. The very next moment he feared the accountant may quit too, he added. “I will see what can be done. You try and pacify the auditors till then,” he gasped. Shourya sat cradling his face with his palms. A politician had just called seeking donations for his party funds. The competitors, taking advantage of the situation were offering discount sales to attract Shrimati Silks’ customers.  He didn’t know what to do. He missed his dad terribly. Seeing the splash of emotions on Shourya’s boyish face Shree’s heart melted. “Don’t worry. You handle the customers. I will sit with the auditors. I have done it before so I will be able to handle them” Shree smiled. Shourya felt as if Shree had a magic wand. Each time dark clouds gathered around his head Shree would dispel them in no time. He looked at her. It was the first time he observed her face in the last 3 months. He liked the way her big, round eyes rolled as she spoke. They sparkled with life. The smile on her broad, red lips was infectious. Her dimples deepened each time she smiled. Shourya smiled back which caught Shree unawares. She had never seen him smile before.  Shourya waved his fingers in front of her eyes. “How do you manage to smile, each and every time? Forget about the smile, I am not able to think straight from the time I am managing this showroom.” Shourya ran his fingers over his coarse hair. Shree stared at the tiny cleft on his chin. The worry lines seemed to have settled down on his forehead. His short stump of a nose was for once not flared up with anger. The next two months seemed to fly. Shree managed to unknot every tangle that posed as an obstacle to the running of the showroom. Unknowingly both Shourya and Shree felt a strong attraction. *** “Care to join me for dinner tonight? It is my way of saying thank you. And please call me Shourya”, his eyes just wouldn’t leave her face. Shree just nodded. At the dinner that night Shourya just poured out his heart. “I am stuck, Shree. I can’t even run away like I always do. Even in my wildest of dreams did I imagine that managing a showroom would be so difficult.” “Shourya, nothing comes easy. In the beginning, everything is difficult. Your dad worked for years to bring it to this level.  You can say ‘It’s not rocket science’ only after you have put in years of hard work and learned everything from scratch.” Shree tried to reason with him, bundling her hair into a ponytail.  Shourya’s face fell, “Pappa must have spoken to you about me. I realize it now, Shree. It’s easier said than done. I wish I could take back my words!”  “From how long have you been working in the showroom? Why does everything seem so effortless to you?” Shourya questioned trying to change the topic. “I have almost grown up watching Chetan Uncle and my dad working. All my vacations and after-school hours I have spent here. It was Chetan Uncle, who sponsored my studies. Because of him, I could complete my MBA in finance.” Shourya’s eyes almost popped out. “Really? And why are you whiling away your time here? You could easily fit into a corporate role.”  “Shourya, it’s not always about money and status. This showroom is my second home. I owe it to your father.”  “Managing a business is not all about making investments and working for profits. It is about connecting with people. The sales team whom you have fired were all personally trained by uncle. Shourya, you know what keeps a business going? It’s the love, trust and respect we have for customers as well as our staff,” Shree continued, “You will be surprised to know that the handloom sarees that we sell are sourced by the same set of weavers whose sarees uncle carried from house to house to sell.”  Shourya realized he had made mistakes in not only understanding the business but also in understanding life. He had never taken an effort to heed to his father’s words.  “Shree, I will stay here forever and take care of the business. But that will be possible with only your help. Shrimati Silks and Shourya can never be complete without Shree. Will you be my partner?” Shourya placed his hand over Shree’s hand. “Is this a business proposition or a marriage proposal?” Shree laughed. “It’s both Shree. Please do consider.” Shourya looked deep into her eyes. “I accept to help you with Shrimati Silks but for the latter, you need to win me over and I am sure this time you will not be in a position to say ‘It’s not rocket science’ “ “By the way I caught you staring at my biceps, the other day”. At this Shree’s face went beetroot red. That night they talked and laughed like there was no tomorrow. The next day Shourya was at the showroom sharp at 10. Shree was shocked to see him clad in an off-white kurta pajama. The first thing that he did on entering the showroom was offer prayers to the Ganpati idol. For once Shree felt it was Chetan uncle who was going about his routine at the showroom.  Instead of heading to his cabin, he chatted with the cashier. Then he settled down in a chair behind the counter. “From today I will learn a few sales tricks from you guys. Will you teach me, Vinay uncle? “He tipped his head towards Vinay who had rejoined after Shourya had apologized to him. The old, sales team was geared up to tackle the wedding season shoppers. “Shree, in the afternoon show me how inventory transaction records are created online.” Shree nodded her head in glee. “Now nothing is going to stop Shrimati Silks from being the best in the city. Chetan uncle’s soul will certainly rest in peace”. Shree thought throwing a loving glance at Shourya.   Penmancy gets a small share of every purchase you make through these links, and every little helps us continue bringing you the reads you love!