Mafatlal has been in the tailoring business for eternity.
His father took him as an apprentice at age 5.
Mafatlal is in his 70s. He has chickenpox marks on his face. His bread is untrimmed flying high, and his big nose is like an electricity pole in a paddy field.
The Jadeja family of Rajkot had called for them 100 years back.
Initially, he looked at me with suspicion, but my mad curiosity about the chicken pox marks on his face started the conversation.
I was at a roadside tea shop in Rajkot.
I will be last in my generation doing this, says Mafatlaal.
There is no money or respect left in the business.
During those festival seasons, we had to call for more men from our native, and seths would pay us anything.
Now things have changed.
Everyone wants everything quick and mechanized.
The craftsmanship is no more recognized.
So, here I am fighting for survival.
Sometimes we crave people in our life to talk to.
We end up sharing life stories with strangers, as they listen to them with curiosity.
Neither of his children is interested in carrying the business forward. Looking at and listening to him makes me painful.