A Suitable Boy(482)

He cut the sole leather and split it to the correct thickness. He layed it, stitched it through, and attached the heel. Then he trimmed the heel and the sole. He paused for a few minutes before starting this difficult and delicate operation; trimming was like cutting hair – a mistake would be critical and irretrievable. A pair of shoes had to be completely symmetrical, left and right absolutely in proportion to each other. He paused for a few minutes afterwards as well. He knew from experience that after performing a difficult job well he was prone to the kind of relief and over-confidence that led to botching something simple.

After trimming, he fine-scoured the heel, and indented the welt to make it look good. When he had finished, he allowed himself to think that things were going well. He coloured the edges, and hot-waxed and ironed them to make them impermeable to water.

Mr Novak, the cold fox, came around at one stage to see how he was progressing. Haresh was taking his post-trimming breather. Mr Novak nodded but did not greet him, Haresh nodded but did not greet him, and Mr Novak went wordlessly away.

The shoes were now practically ready except that the soles, where stitched, looked a little crude. So Haresh fine-buffed the soles, waxed them and shone them. And lastly he fudged the bottom edges against a hot revolving wheel that hid the ugly stitches under a fine decorative pattern.

That, thought Haresh, carries a lesson for me. If James Hawley hadn’t retracted their offer I would still be stuck in the same city. Now perhaps I’ll get a job near Calcutta. And in terms of quality, Praha footwear is the best in India.

Appropriately enough, his next operation was to brand-stamp the sole with the name of Praha. He removed the wooden last. He attached the heel (which was attached only temporarily before) with nails. With gold foil he brand-stamped the inside sock with the Praha name and pasted it and cemented it inside the shoe. It was done!

He was halfway to Havel’s office when he turned back, shaking his head and smiling at himself. ‘What now?’ said the man who had been designated to police him while he worked.

‘A pair of laces,’ said Haresh. ‘I must be exhausted.’

The General Manager, the head of Leather, and the head of Personnel gathered together to look at Haresh’s pair of shoes, to twist them and turn them, to prod them and peer at them. They spoke in Czech.

‘Well,’ said Kurilla, ‘they’re better than anything you or I could make.’

‘I’ve promised him a foreman’s job,’ said Havel.

‘You can’t do that,’ said Novak. ‘Everyone starts on the floor.’

‘I’ve promised him a foreman’s job, and he will get one. I don’t want to lose a man like this. What do you think Mr K will say?’

Though Khandelwal had appeared indifferent to Haresh’s fate, he had in fact (as Haresh was later to learn) been very tough with the Czechs. After looking at Haresh’s papers he had said to Havel: ‘Show me any other applicants, Czech or Indian, who have the same qualifications.’ Havel had not been able to. Even Kurilla, the head of Leather, though he had himself graduated from the Middlehampton College of Technology many years earlier, had not had the distinction, as Haresh had had, of standing first. Mr Khandelwal had then said: ‘I forbid you to recruit any person below this man’s qualifications until he is first offered a job.’ Havel had tried to dissuade Khandelwal from this drastic veto, but had not succeeded. He had tried to persuade Haresh to withdraw, but had not succeeded. He had then set him a task that he had not remotely imagined he could succeed in. But Haresh’s shoes were as good as anything he had seen. Pavel Havel, whatever he thought about Indians, would never again speak slightingly about people’s thumbs.

The Goodyear Welted shoes were to lie in Havel’s office for over a year, and he was to point them out on various occasions to visitors whenever he wanted to discuss fine workmanship.

Haresh was called in.

‘Sit, sit, sit,’ said Havel.

Haresh sat down.

‘Excellent, excellent!’ said Havel.

Haresh knew how good his shoes were, but he could not help looking delighted. His eyes disappeared in his smile.

‘So I keep my part of the bargain. You get the job. Eighty rupees a week. Starting on Monday. Yes, Kurilla?’

‘Yes.’

‘Novak?’

Novak nodded, unsmilingly. His right hand was moving over the edge of one of the shoes. ‘A good pair,’ he said quietly.

‘Then good,’ said Havel. ‘You accept?’

‘The salary is too low,’ said Haresh. ‘Compared both to what I was getting before and what I have been offered.’

‘We will put you on probation for six months, and then reconsider the salary. You do not realize, Khanna, how far we go to accommodate you, to make you a Prahaman.’