Apparently, we're not done yet.

We thought we were done. Then Priya tried it. Then Rohan. Then Meera. And, apparently, we had been a little optimistic.

Because every time we thought we had finally got the product right, someone would take it into their actual day and come back with one small thing. Nothing dramatic. Just enough to make us realise:

Not yet.

So, we changed it. Tried it again. Thought we were done.

Not yet.

This happened more times than we’d like to admit. But somewhere in all those iterations, something useful happened. The product stopped being something we were building for people. It became something we were building with them.

“Sometimes when you innovate, you make mistakes. It is best to admit them quickly, and get on with improving your other innovations.”

— Steve Jobs

PRIYA WAS THE FIRST TO MAKE US QUESTION “DONE.”

Priya leaves early. Her commute usually takes her straight into a client-facing day.

When we first spoke to her about deodorant, she didn’t say she wanted something stronger. She said she wanted to stop wondering if she smelled bad. There’s a difference.

You can be perfectly fine and still spend a small part of your day wondering whether you’re perfectly fine. You’ve been outside. You’ve rushed. You’ve sweated a little. Now you’re sitting across from someone in a meeting and, somewhere in the back of your head:

Is that me? Should I check?

As Priya put it:

“You’re in the meeting. You’re also somewhere else. Dono ek saath.”
— Priya

We gave her a version we were pretty happy with. We thought:

This might be it.

A couple of weeks later, we asked her how it was going. We expected a review. Instead, she gave us a problem we hadn’t quite realised existed. She still found herself checking. Not as often. But enough.

So, we went back. Changed things. Tried it again. Gave it back to her. And waited. This time, when we asked, she said:

“I stopped checking.”
— Priya

Okay. Maybe now we were done.

THEN ROHAN MADE US CHANGE OUR MINDS.

Rohan’s days are long in a completely different way. College, coaching, travelling between the two, and several hours where the morning feels very far away.

The product was working. So, naturally, we thought we had another one. Done.

Except Rohan noticed something. The fragrance was still there later in the day. Technically, it had lasted. But it wasn’t quite the same fragrance he had put on that morning. It had become flatter. He mentioned it once. Almost casually.

We didn’t take it casually. Because if you’re going to say something lasts all day, how it lasts matters too.

So, we went back. Worked on the fragrance. Wore it ourselves. Changed it. Tested it again. Gave it back to Rohan.

At this point, we were getting very familiar with the phrase:

“Okay, one more version.”

“You did what you knew how to do, and when you knew better, you did better.”

— Maya Angelou

This time, there wasn’t much to discuss. He just said:

“It’s just there. All day. Bas itna chahiye tha.”
— Rohan

That one was different. Because there was nothing left to explain. Maybe now we were done.

THEN MEERA GAVE US ANOTHER REASON TO KEEP GOING.

Meera’s day begins before she gets to herself. Breakfast, two children, uniforms, bags, something missing, something found, everyone out. Then work.

When we asked what she wanted from personal care, she laughed. Then gave us possibly the clearest brief we’d heard:

“I don’t have the time to manage a product. Kaam karo bas.”
— Meera

She didn’t want three different products doing three different jobs. She didn’t have the time to keep applying one thing, waiting, then applying another. She wanted something that got the job done. And for her, that also meant dealing with the pigmentation she had been trying to manage.

So, we kept working on it. She tried one of the later versions through her normal workdays. Then an outdoor event. Then a long school function in the sun. We thought this version was probably as close as we’d get.

So, we asked:

How was it?

She didn’t have much to say. No reapplication. No discomfort. No moment where she had to stop what she was doing and think about the product.

And a few weeks in, she mentioned something else, almost in passing. The pigmentation was beginning to look better too. Nothing she had to treat separately. Nothing she had to remember halfway through the day. Just one less thing to think about.

“Ghar se nikalte waqt ek cheez kam sochni padi.”
— Meera

That one stayed with us. Because maybe that was the brief all along.

Do the job. Do it well. And don’t make me think about it again.

WE THOUGHT WE WERE DONE.

Again. But that’s what happens when a product leaves the lab and enters someone’s real life. Someone’s Tuesday will always find something you missed.

Priya made us realise that performance could mean not having to wonder. Rohan showed us that something can technically last and still not wear the way we wanted it to. Meera reminded us that a product shouldn’t need managing, especially when it’s meant to make your day easier.

None of them were testing the product in extraordinary conditions. They were just living. Working, studying, commuting, taking care of their families, going outside, sweating, changing plans, staying out longer than expected. The product had to come along.

And that’s how “done” kept moving. We thought the first version was done. It wasn’t. We fixed what we found, thought the next one was done, and it wasn’t either. So, we changed it again. And again. Not because the product was failing, but because “works” and “works the way it should” aren’t always the same thing.

“If you keep going, you can oftentimes arrive at some very elegant and simple solutions.”

— Steve Jobs

Somewhere along the way, we stopped asking:

Is this good enough?

And started asking:

“Would you change anything?”

That question kept the process going. Until one day, we asked it again. Priya said she wasn’t checking anymore. Rohan said:

“It’s just there. All day. Bas itna chahiye tha.”
— Rohan

Meera said:

“Ghar se nikalte waqt ek cheez kam sochni padi.”
— Meera

And for the first time, nobody had a but. No small thing they’d noticed. No “it would be better if…” No “maybe…” Just:

“This works.”

APPARENTLY, WE’RE NOW DONE WITH IT.

After all those versions. All those small changes. All those “one more time.” We finally reached the point we’d been calling done for a while.

Only this time, it wasn’t us saying it. It was them. And that felt like a much better way to know.

Apparently, we’re now done with it.