Friday, April 20, 2007
one hour @cobbler's shop.
Perhaps a cobbler working on a torn shoe is the best example of life in its full brutality, blunt and true. the despondency with which the “customer” throws his slipper, the alacrity with which the cobbler takes hold of it in his both hands as if a doctor were checking his patient for injuries, the stingy and ruthless bargain that follows for that extra rupee, the reluctant concession, brimful of contempt. a fistful of disdain. a demand to sew it in black thread to avoid detection, his wry smile. his trembling hands pierce the worn out sole,as I watch detached.he tucks the flagging leather in,i watch.he finishes his operation and places it near my foot.i wear hand him a coin and just when i turn and get ready to lose this small stop in the midst of more important and significant events i hear a voice "maga joda sari hoythaa"(son,does the shoe fit properly")i nod my head dumbly and whizz past as my engine screamed at the top of its voice.