Station Announcement:
"Attention all artisans and architects of fate: collaboration requires more courage than creation."
The Handcraft Lab had never been this loud.
Not even during the monsoon repairs, not during the flood reconstruction, not even when they first reopened its doors to the neighbourhood.Today, the noise had a new pitch—sharp, metallic, anxious.
Dubai Expo deadlines did not care for handcrafted timing.
Rohit stood in the middle of the workshop surrounded by blueprints, piles of reclaimed wood, half-finished lamps, and a growing sense of unease.The artisans argued in clusters—voices rising, cutting, colliding.
"They want symmetry—Dubai likes symmetry!""How do we give symmetry with floodwood?""We need more workers.""We need more time.""We need better machines.""We need—"
"Stop."
Rohit didn't shout.But something in his tone cut the air cleanly.
The room quieted to a tense hum.
He looked around at these hands—older, younger, scarred, patient, tired, determined.Hands he trusted.Hands that trusted him.
But trust was not the issue now.
Fear was.
Vinod stepped forward."Rohit sir… this is too big. What if we fail?"
Sabu added, "People are expecting perfection."
A younger artisan echoed, "We're just… us."
Rohit took a long breath.
"You think the Expo wants perfection?" he asked."They want soul. They want authenticity. They want a story carved into wood."
"We can give them that," Sabu said. "But what if they want… more?"
"Then 'more' is not ours to give," Rohit replied sharply.
That silenced them.But not in a peaceful way.
In a frightened way.
1. A Crack Appears
Later that afternoon, as a storm gathered in the sky, the biggest conflict erupted.
A younger artisan—Sharan—threw down his chisel.
"I'm done," he snapped. "This work is outdated. We need machines. We need speed. We need modern designs."
Rohit approached slowly."We are using modern designs."
"No," Sharan said, voice tightening."You're using nostalgia. You're using trauma. You're using the flood as a brand."
A heartbeat of silence.
The words hit harder than the rain pounding outside.
Rohit's face paled.Sabu flinched as if struck.Vinod stepped back.
Sharan continued, unrestrained:
"This Lab survived because we were desperate. But desperation is not a business. Floodwood is not a future. This Expo is a chance to evolve. And you—" he pointed at Rohit "—you want to freeze us in the past."
Rohit's breath caught.Not because Sharan was wrong—but because some part of him feared Sharan might be right.
He swallowed.
"You think I'm afraid of change?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," Sharan said."Because if we change too much, the Lab becomes something you can't recognise."
His words cut too deep.
Rohit steadied himself.
"You're not wrong," he said. "But you're not right either."
Sharan shook his head, grabbed his bag, and walked out.
The door slammed.
Rain followed him like an accusation.
Inside, no one moved.
No one breathed loudly.
Vinod whispered, "Sir… should I go get him?"
Rohit shook his head slowly.
"No. Let him go."
But his heart was breaking.
2. The Visit That Changes the Air
An hour later, while the storm hammered the roof in heavy, punishing sheets, the door opened again.
Not Sharan.
Sara entered—hood wet, breath short, eyes sharp.
"Rohit," she said. "Come outside."
He blinked."Sara? Is everything okay?"
"Outside," she repeated.
He followed her into the storm, standing under the narrow awning.
She looked him straight in the eyes.
"What happened here?" she asked.
He ran a hand through his hair.
"I'm losing the Lab," he murmured. "Or maybe I'm losing myself."
Sara shook her head.
"You're not losing anything," she said. "You're growing. And growth is noisy."
He didn't respond.
She added quietly:
"Do you remember what you told me when we were rebuilding this place?"
Rohit frowned.
She leaned closer, voice soft against the storm.
"You said: 'Our flaws will become our signature.'"
He swallowed.
"But the world wants polish," he whispered.
"The world wants honesty," she countered."And right now, your people see your fear—not your honesty."
He closed his eyes.
"And Sharan?"
"He's afraid too," she said. "Let him be. He'll come back when he realises other places won't hold him the way this one does."
A long pause.
Rain softened.
Rohit whispered, "I don't know how to lead them anymore."
Sara touched his arm lightly.
"Then lead by listening."
He opened his eyes.
She smiled.
"You don't have to shape them. Just shape the light they work in."
3. The Return to the Workshop
When they went back inside, the artisans looked up.
Rohit took a slow breath.
"Everyone," he said. "I made a mistake."
No one expected that.
He continued:
"I tried to protect the Lab from change. But change is why we're here. So from tomorrow—no more perfection. No more fear. We work with our flaws. We build with our stories."
He pointed to the cracked arch that still watched over them.
"That survived because it refused to be perfect."
Someone exhaled.Someone else nodded.A few whispered to each other.
Then Sabu stepped forward.
"What do you need from us?" he asked.
Rohit smiled faintly.
"Everything," he said. "Your skill. Your mistakes. Your arguments. Your hands. Your truth."
Vinod laughed softly."All of that we have plenty."
The room warmed.
Not with certainty.
But with commitment.
4. A Shadow at the Door
Just as they began arranging wood and designs again, the door opened.
Sharan stood there, drenched, chest heaving, eyes red with rain and regret.
Everyone froze.
Rohit stepped forward.
Sharan whispered, "Sir… I'm sorry."
Rohit said nothing.
He simply held out a towel.
Sharan took it.
The workshop exhaled.
Rain eased outside.
And something inside the Lab—something fragile and necessary—mended itself.
5. The Hands That Shape Tomorrow
They worked late into the night, lanterns glowing steadily.
Floodwood became sculpture.Driftwood became lampstands.Scars became signatures.
And slowly, impossibly—
The Lab began to shine.
Not polished.
Not perfect.
Alive.