The shade was a crisp crimson interspersed with golden yellow. But that was to the west where pale white clouds hovered around the sun. By the sea side, one could see the moon rising briskly against the waning sunlight. The sun was zooming down pretty quickly. It would become dark in no time at all. And in the campus life of Partha, by the pavement close to his school, a network of banyan groves by the road made it seem like it were a wooded country side. Under the dark shades of a single banyan tree, with its roots hanging downwards seemingly like snakes hanging down in penitent worship of mother earth was a solitary lamp post. And by the dull light, working overtime was a single cobbler. With movements that easily escaped the sharpest eyes, he stuck a needle into the soles of a weathered shoe and thus bringing back the sole to its rightful position. There was an old radio by his side. Not surprisingly, the music it stemmed was constant source of reminiscences for the school old boys club, who often gathered by nightfall by the culvert opposite to the lamp post.

It was six on a wintery evening. The temperature lessened further by the cool sea breeze. Partha rushed out to the cobbler. Tomorrow was the trials. To be selected for the district athletics team, he had to have his shoes mended. Participation without the shoes wasn’t allowed. But he had to push his chances of being selected for the Regional School Athletics Meet. His friends touted him to be the champion.

“Damn! I should’ve checked my shoes yesterday. And when is my dad going to get me the spare one? They are my family and no one seems to care.” He sprinted to the cobbler as he cursed to himself.

Luckily, the cobbler was still there.

“Oh! Thank god. I was praying that you would be here. Please, please mend the studs of my sprint shoes.” Partha requested.

The Cobbler gave a rather frustrated look. “I have to leave.” He said. “It is my son’s birthday today. I have just repaired his shoes. He has running race tomorrow, you know. Mending your shoes will take some time.”

Fear stole into Partha’s eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Please old man!” He begged. I will give you twice the amount. Anything, anything at all. I too am racing tomorrow. I need to have this shoes repaired.”

The cobbler looked at Partha quizzically. “Are you in the districts meet too? Tomorrow?” He asked. “Which race is it?”

Partha answered with a sigh of relief. The old man could be persuaded. “Well, the short sprint and the 100 meter dash.”

“Really! That is what my son is participating in too. His name is Kadhir. Do you know him?”

Partha was shocked. Kadhir was his competitor. Only one from his district got selected. Both Kadhir and he were clocking similar speeds. While Partha ran at consistent speeds, Kadhir would flounder. Sometimes he would easily out pace Partha. At most times though he fell a few places behind.

“I know Kadhir. They say that he is the one other guy would could beat me in the race and the selection.” Partha spoke dumbfounded. Would the old man refuse to mend his shoes now all together?

But, the old man set all his instruments out and began the repair job. And Partha  now thought. “Why?” Why would he be willing to repair my shoes even though he could refuse and brighten Kadhir’s chances of winning? Maybe he is trying to sabotage.

“The metal spike has come of loose. It has brought out the patch supporting it as well.” The old cobbler was saying as he got down repairing the shoes.

“He could pretend to be mending it while he could loosen the spikes all the more.” Partha said to himself.

“Let me just take the spikes out and sharpen it first. Then I’ll glue it together with the patch. And then I could stitch it back to the soles.” The old cobbler rambled on as he went about repairing Partha’s shoes.

“Should I take it away from him now? I can try another cobbler early in the morning. The event doesn’t start before 10.” Partha thought.

“There, there. The spikes have been sharpened. Let me use this rubber adhesive. That would help you with a better suspension and wouldn’t crack under strain.” The cobbler was immersed in his work as he talked on.

“Oh! God! What do I do now? I can’t seem to decide? Why should he use rubber glue? Partha was frantic. “Aren’t cyanide based glue better?” Partha asked the cobbler, unable to restrain any longer.

“No.” The cobbler said. “Instant glue sticks better. But it could crack along with the spike when you put pressure on the toes. Rubber takes a while to stick onto but once done, it is a much better bet for you.”

Partha closed his eyes. “He’s fibbing for sure.” He thought.

After a while the cobbler spoke. “There. It is done. Please let the adhesive dry for at-least a few hours. Don’t wear it till tomorrow morning. In the morning, your shoes would be as good as new.” The cobbler gave a friendly smile. “May the best one win the race.”

“Hah.” Partha thought. “So I shouldn’t try it out now. Good excuse that was. It took time for drying!”

“How much?” Partha asked the cobbler.

“10 rupees son”.

“The cheat. He’s charging only ten because he thinks I do not suspect anything.“ Partha was in two minds now.

He gave the cobbler the money. Without thanking him, begins walking away. He would wake up early in the morning and cycle down to another cobbler by the next town a few miles away. There he would have the shoes mended again.

Thinking and all planned out, Partha rushed back home. He had to have his dinner early and go to bed soon. He reached his building. His home was upstairs – the first floor. Partha takes to two steps at a time and swinging gaily, reaches the top of the stairs. And just when he reaches the top, he loses his balance and falls down a couple of steps.

---

“The doctor is at home.” Partha’s mother was speaking to his dad. “Only a minor sprain, he said. He’s given some pain killers and some spray. Pattu should be alright by the morning.”

“Thank god for that.” His father responds. “He’s got the big race tomorrow and he’s been practicing hard for it. I’ll be home in a little while. Has Pattu gone to sleep.”

“Yes.” Said his mother. “The doctor has given him a sedative. So he’s sleeping peacefully now.”

-- ps .. st