Shine Time

There is something about polishing shoes. I had mentioned earlier about how I, in my absent-mindedness, had stroked my cellphone on my shoes keeping the brush aside. I did something today in office that reminded me of this incident. And then, I remembered a few more.

First, what I did today. There is this automated machine for shoe polishing in office (the manufacturer has very aptly named it 'Handsoff'). Most of you must have seen them somewhere. In case you have not, the machine runs on electricity and has three sections - a cream polish dispenser, a brush for black shoes and one for brown. In Hyderabad, moving feet gather a lot of dust and so, I use the brush once I am in office. Lost in my own world, probably thinking about the lack of work in office, I went for it today as well - completely forgetting it was Friday and I was wearing my sports shoes. I realised what I was doing once I looked down to check the shine. I did the first thing I do in such a situation - looked around. I guess my luck was also closing down like the week. Here he was, someone from the floor who would have probably died if he did not come for a shine at that precise time of the day, dying to control his laughter but unable to stop the grin. I did my best to hide my face - I did not want him to remember me as the 'shoe-polish guy'.

Circa 2004. My office in Chennai had this machine as well. One day, with a luck like today, I went ahead and, still unaware of what was lying ahead, collected the cream on my left shoe - only to realise that Mr. Handsoff was having an off day and refused to work. All that the rubbing against the static brush did was to smudge the white of the cream onto the black leather. After a few, futile minutes, I gave up. The public embarrassment could not be avoided that day either as a 'friend' in the restroom made public the news of me rubbing my shoe with hand-tissues. Now you know why, after that day, I always follow the sequence of brush (read check usability), cream and brush-again.

It's not that I have always had this rotten luck when it came to polishing shoes. I decided to save the one satisfying experience (surely qualifies as one of the most fulfilling days of my life) for the last. Once when in college, three of us were staying at a friend's place which was our usual den for enjoyment in the name of studies. The next morning, we were to go to a friend's place for her birthday. And as I got up, late as usual, little did I realise it was to one of my best mornings. So eager was my friend to put his best foot forward, that he actually polished his shoes for a full 30 minutes. Only, we had bought identical shoes which just differed in size. And he, with all his energy, mistakenly went on buffing my pair. The joy welling up, the laughter gaining uncontrollable force, the superhuman efforts to stay nonchalant at such a moment of glory; remembering these feelings that can sustain me in the most difficult of times. If I could click the the look on his face when the truth dawned on him, I would be more than happy to carry that photo and smile the way to my grave.