Maybe this intersection is not suitable anymore. The last customer I had was ten days ago, and it was just for a small stitch in their slipper. The money wasn’t enough even for a day’s expense. Hunger has been gnawing inside for the past two days. I’m unable to bear its pangs. It’s burning and pulling, and rumbling and retching. Rarely do people come and repair their shoes or slippers anymore.
Everyone is wearing new shoes and fancy slippers. Some young kids who regularly walk this street wear a different one every day of the week. No hope with these young ones, they will never visit an old cobbler to repair their shoes. A few meters down the road is a new mall, never been inside. They say, there are many shops inside, selling all sorts of things. The days when people wore shoes to protect their feet are gone. Now they have a pair for each of their clothes. Why will they come for repair? Ah, my stomach hurts in hunger.
On days when I am able to walk, I take my tools along and become a hawker, shouting my life away, “Shoe repair, slipper repair, shoe repair, slipper repair.” Today, I’m weak, I’m hungry, I’m dizzy, I’m desperate, I’m angry. Even a beggar makes more money than I and has food every day. Should I start to beg? Should I just throw away my dignity? What should I do? My stomach doesn’t know what respect and dignity is.
I see a young boy and a girl coming my way. He has something in his hand, which he tries to feed her, but she repels it. It appears to be food, he takes a bite and pleads her to have some. She rejects again. Apparently a love feud between them. He begs but she doesn’t budge. In haste, he throws the food away and walks disgruntled. As I said, my stomach doesn’t understand respect and dignity, but it cares for precious food lying on the street.
I walk toward the food at a snail’s pace, dragging myself and my dignity. My eyes fill with hope, my stomach fills with desire. Before I get close to the food, the boy returns, picks up the food, walks straight to a large dustbin, and drops it. Everything in me shatters. Everything. My body droops. Eyes flood with tears. The boy walks near me as he returns, I involuntarily extend my arms in supplication. He looks at me and walks past without flinching. I look at my hands, and realize I’m now a beggar. A beggar.
Inspired by: Why Haven’t We Solved World Hunger Yet?
Stay connected for more insights and stories by following @darsan.halan and join me on my Instagram and Facebook.
