Shoe Polish

            A smile grew on Aryan’s face, without his realizing it. He looked outside his bedroom window. The yellow sun lit up a clear, blue sky. A gentle breeze drifted in through the window, rustling few leaves on its way there. What a beautiful day.

Yesterday had been the last day of his engineering semester exams. After months of preparation and stress, it was a huge load off his shoulders. And boy had they gone well. Every subject from Math to Electronics to Algorithms had been to his satisfaction.

            The last day of exams always felt like the sweet taste of freedom. No more cramming through books and notes all day long. It was his time to do whatever he pleased. He had hung out at a friend’s place last night, watching the soccer game. Real Madrid had won their champions league semi-final with a convincing 3-0 score. Another reason for Aryan to celebrate.

If that wasn’t enough, India beat Pakistan in last night’s one-day match. It was a beautiful day indeed.

            His phone buzzed, snapping him out of his reverie. The plan was to go to the mall with Kunal and William. He put on his shoes and stepped out of the house.

            Kunal, who lived in the opposite building, was already waiting outside. “William is meeting us down the lane. We’ll take a cab from there.”

            Aryan nodded, the remnants of the unconscious smile still on his face.

            “What are you grinning about?”

            “The exams are over. Over. Finished. Done.”

            Kunal laughed, “You take these exams too seriously anyways. These results won’t matter later on in life.”

            Aryan nodded. He had heard this line before, but if he was giving an exam, he wanted to do well. He couldn’t help but take them seriously.  He often debated with Kunal about the importance of exams, but not today. Today, Aryan didn’t care.

            They sauntered down the sloping lane, leading out from their cozy residential society, one of several located in the posh Breach Candy locality, home to Mumbai’s affluent middle class.

They chatted about various plans for the holiday month ahead. They were in no particular hurry. They were free men today.

            At the bottom of the slope, they stopped to wait for William.

            It was a busy section of the street, which was narrow to begin with. A bus stop on one side of the slope further slowed down the flow of vehicles. Some cars made a U-turn at the bottom of their lane, frequently requiring multiple attempts, blocking traffic in the process, and invoking ire and loud honks from the nearby cars.

            On the other side of the slope, there were a slew of street vendors, selling sev-puri, vada pavs, dosas and various savory snacks. There was also a street barber and a shoe-polish boy, offering cheap grooming services, mainly frequented by the drivers, peons, and others who worked for the rich folks living in these societies.

            Aryan’s eyes went to the shoe-polish boy. He had known Raju since they were both little kids playing cricket behind his building. They had been thick friends then. Over time, they drifted into separate worlds, with Aryan hanging out more with his classmates and then going to college.

            “Aryan bhaiya.” Raju waved at him. He looked the same over the years. His body was short and frail, his skin dark with over-exposure to the sun. A deep scar ran across his left check.

            “How are you, Raju?” Aryan waved back.

            “Great, bhaiya. And you?”

            “Good, good. Last day of exams was yesterday for me.”

            “Nice.”

Aryan became intensely aware of the differences in the lives of Raju and him. Raju had always been a bright kid, good with numbers, evidenced by how quickly he could calculate run-rates when they used to watch cricket matches together.

            Here, Aryan was on his way to becoming an engineer. Raju, on the other hand, never got to attend school or college. He worked many different jobs over the years, from being a domestic servant to a fruit delivery boy to a street sweeper. He and his brother now ran their own street-side fruits-and-vegetables business on the weekends. Raju did other odd jobs during the week, including a courier service, and the shoe-polish stand.

            Aryan couldn’t help but wonder what if Raju had gotten the opportunities that Aryan had. And what about vice-versa? What if he had been in Raju’s shoes?

Aryan looked at his old buddy’s feet. Raju rarely had a decent pair of shoes at all. He wore half-torn slippers. Aryan looked down at his own Nike sneakers.

“Where the hell is William?” Kunal began pacing about. “I’m calling him.”

Aryan nodded absently. A tall, broad-shouldered man put his leather boot on Raju’s wooden footrest and grunted a demand for shoe-polish. He was dressed in a white short-sleeves shirt, white pants, and wore large dark glasses with a gold frame.

Raju squatted down on the ground. He started by dusting the shoes with a damp rag, and then took out the brush and polish.

“William says he’s on his way over here.” Kunal informed Aryan.

Aryan turned to Kunal and shrugged. Meanwhile, Raju was polishing away.

A sudden sound like the cracking of a whip startled Aryan. He turned around to see Raju clutching his cheek in shock and pain. Mr. White Pants stood over him with his palm raised.

“What the hell are you doing?” White Pants shouted. “You got polish on my socks.”

“Sorry sir.” Raju said in a small voice. His left cheek had turned a rosy red.

“What sorry? What a dumb-ass you are.”

“It-it was a mistake.”

White Pants raised his sun glasses a little and glared at Raju. “Finish the job quickly now, you rascal boy. Don’t waste my time.”

Raju picked up his polishing brush. His hands were shaky.

Aryan felt his blood start to boil a little. He took a step forward. Kunal saw this, and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Forget it, dude.” Kunal said. “Don’t get involved with these people.”

“But Raju is my friend.”

“Who Raju? You mean the shoe-polish boy?”

“Yea.”

Kunal shook his head. “Trust me, you don’t want to get in the middle of it. You’ll get beaten yourself.”

Raju dipped his brush in the black polish, and moved it across the boot. He touched his cheek gingerly, and looked up. White Pants had his glasses off now, and two angry eyes looked down.

Raju’s hands quivered slightly. The brush slipped out of his hands.

White Pants pressed the sole of his boot down on Raju’s fingers.

“Aaaaarghh.” Raju screamed. He yanked his fingers away.

“Do you job properly, stupid rascal boy.” White Pants barked. Raju shifted backwards, his eyes welling up.

Aryan found himself moving towards them. A hand grabbed his shoulder.

Kunal appeared in front of him, “Dude, I’m telling you, don’t be stupid.”

Aryan looked at him. “So, I’m supposed to just stand by and watch this?”

“We’re anyways running late…William will be here soon.”

“He’s about our age you know.” Aryan paused. “I can’t let this go on.”

White Pants tilted his head towards Raju. “Don’t pretend to be hurt, rascal. Get back to work.”

With a few quick strides, Aryan stood next to White Pants. He clenched his jaw. He looked down to see Raju leaning back, his eyes as red as his bruised cheek. He looked into the eyes of the shoe-polish boy, whom he had known since childhood.

All of a sudden, Aryan’s anger dissipated. His breathing became steady. A wave of calm came over him.

            He bent down, put his arm around Raju, and gently propped him against the back wall. “It’s okay, Raju.”

            Raju met his gaze, but didn’t say anything.

“Don’t help the little rascal.” White Pants admonished.

Aryan took the brush from Raju’s hand. He lowered himself down, removed his sneakers, and sat cross-legged on the ground.

Kunal appeared next to him. “Aryan, have you lost it? Get up, dude.”

Raju sat up straight, and extended his hand towards Aryan. “Bhaiya, let me…”

Aryan waved him off. He looked up at White Pants. “Put your foot here.” He pointed at the footrest.

“What?”

“You want your shoes polished, right?”

White Pants looked dazed, unsure of how to react. Slowly, he put his right boot forward.

Aryan dipped the brush in the polish. He focused his eyes on the boot before him. Although he had watched shoes being polished, he had never actually done it himself. There were always servants at home to do this for him when he needed it.

Still, at that moment, he felt like he knew what he was doing. His hands moved at a steady pace, rubbing with the brush in small circular swirls. He applied the polish evenly, making sure to get into all the creases. He continued until every spot on the boot was covered.

From a jug of water kept on the side, he sprinkled a few drops of water on the boot. He picked up the brush again, and applied another layer of polish all over.

He leaned back to examine his handiwork. He put some extra touches of shine on the toe and heel portions.

Satisfied, he glanced up at White Pants and gestured for him to put forward the other foot. Aryan then repeated the same procedure on the second boot.

All the while, Kunal watched with his mouth hung open. White Pants looked too befuddled by what was going on to say anything intelligible. The neighboring food vendors had paused their activities and watched the proceedings in amazement. Even some passers-by had stopped to observe.

Raju’s expression gradually changed from bewilderment to amusement. His face started to brighten a little. There was even a trace of a smile.

Finished with both boots, Aryan put the brush away and wiped off his hands. White Pants stepped down, and mumbled some acknowledgement. He started to walk away.

“Hello, where do you think you’re going?” Aryan called out.

White Pants spun around. “Ha?”

“You owe us…” Aryan glanced at Raju, who gestured with his fingers, “Ten rupees.”

White Pants looked sheepish. It was his face now that was starting to turn a bit scarlet. He took out his wallet and forked over a ten-rupee note to Aryan.  Then, he scampered away.

Aryan had a big grin. He handed the money to Raju, and winked at him. They both started laughing.

Raju doubled over. “That was great, bhaiya. Did you see the look on his face? Hahahaha”

Aryan laughed along. “Poor fellow still can’t understand what happened.”

Raju put an arm on Aryan’s shoulder. “Thanks bhaiya.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Actually, you should keep this money…”

“Don’t be silly, Raju.”

“Bhaiya…”

Aryan poked Raju’s midriff, and tickled him. “Chalo, let’s have some sev puri.” Raju giggled with the tickling and didn’t object.

Aryan ordered a sev-puri from the nearby stall. The two old friends sat on the stony pavement, and shared their favorite snack, the one that they used to eat as kids, after a long game of cricket in the hot sun.

Just like old times…