Tid Bit from My Diary

  Photo by Ricardo Santanna: Link For three weeks, I drove around with a pair of favorite shoes in the car. The mission was simple — to replace their worn-out soles. The upper leather was still perfect, sturdy, and familiar. Poetically speaking, the sole was giving up while the soul was still full of spirit. In Kolkata, there used to be plenty of shoemakers, many from the Chinese community. But for three weeks, I couldn’t find one. The shoes still rest quietly in the back of the car — waiting for a craftsman who can bring them back to life. As I sat on the couch one afternoon, the smell of shoe polish from my school days drifted back, carrying with it a flood of memories. Those leather shoes we wore as children were worn out by the end of each day — from kicking stones, chasing balls, and splashing through muddy puddles. Each morning, we had to restore some level of decency before school. It was less about polishing and more about covering the grey with black Cherry Blossom. When t...