 It is ‘sew’ easy
It is certainly the most
impressive modern complex of buildings anywhere in the world. There are
many unique architectural features of this magnificent structure.
Massive and beautiful are two adjectives that constantly comes to my
mind, hundred metres high with 20 storeys so designed as to take the
weight evenly. Almost every room takes in the daylight.
It is in a basement my boss has taken a room. Whoever who had
occupied this room before, had left bits of fabric, rick-rack, short
pieces of lace and pieces of thread. They were every where. It much
resembled a place where some one dabbled with women’s attire. However,
it is now my workplace. My owner. a good looking lady comes from the big
city. She owned a few houses and jewellery that would put a Colombo 7,
socialite to shame.
 I have taken over a quarter of the basement room. My body is black
enamelled steel. It has beautiful gold figure decorations, and an iron
treadle attached to the balance wheel which I ran with alternating feet.
It’s quiet here, I work away, and flat pieces of cloth take shape. It
grows breastshaped curves and hips gather itself into a waist band.
The outcome of a sewing project is never uncertain. I know in advance
exactly what I will get, and I control all phases of production. On and
off, my boss sits with me. Back and forth she would sew struggling to
get the rhythm of the pedals right, so that the wheel would turn
smoothly, learning to sew a curved line, to make a dart. By now I have
reached womanhood. Certain changes took place on my body.
My boss was happy that I was old enough to start more new
productions. She sat and made zig-zags, large ones, small ones, fine
enough to finish a buttonhole. I worked fast and turned out rebellious
clothes. Bell-bottom trousers with plate size flowers in red, white and
blue. Granny dresses, with high waists and necks. A bottle green silk
suit with lime green capels were interspersed with other materials.
My off day falls once a week when someone would do the maintenance. I
am looked after well.
They brushes me well and clean the dust. Then given a oil bath, a
soft woolen cloth runs over my body, that the texture of my skin turns
gleaming white. Gradually my production increases. My owner is happy.
Marriage is one, sewing is another.
So my boss provided me a partner to fulfil my desire. Though his body
structure was also steel, it was not black but tan. My husband has a
free, arm for cuffs and collars and can sew with two needles. At the
same time, my life is happy turning out quality dresses, born to serve
all mankind as a sewing machine.
- Tissa Hewavitarane
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