Dhanno and I did some frantic cleaning of my wardrobe, warm clothes, the pathetically few sarees that I have, and piles and piles of only casual clothes.

Since the room was not already submerged under, I also unearthed swathes of material from a drawer under the bed. Small cuttings which would come in handy some day, a few baby clothes belonging to Dhanno, a dress I wore when I was 8, a dress I stitched and wore when I was 20. Dhanno fit into that one, so it was confirmed that I used to be her size once.

I also brought out an old linen jacket, I had bought 20 years ago, in Janpath, Delhi, or on Fashion Street, Mumbai and which I used to wear all the time at FTII. I fit into that one, never mind the padded shoulders.

I looked at Dhanno, all smug, and said, and while saying, held back a little by the absurdity, “So I fit into this. How? … You think …?”

Dhanno dismissed me in a moment, “Mom, I have seen your photographs. You just wore really oversized clothes then.”

So be it. The padding on the shoulders has been removed, the jacket has gone for a wash, and I can wear it again. If not all the time, at least until this so-called Mumbai winter holds up.