A Tailor

I crossed paths with this man in Tapovan, India. He was idly staring out the door in a meditation of sorts. He didn’t notice me for a long time. It was a guilty pleasure to watch him in this peaceful state—he was there in front of me yet nowhere at all. Something brought him back - maybe his wife sitting next to him - and when he became cognitive, I was directly in his field of vision. There was only the slightest bit of surprise, which is somewhat captured in this frame.

Talking to him in his storefront I sensed a calm energy from this man who, I quickly learned, suffers from glaucoma. A shrine of Ganesha rests within a display cabinet among rolls of material, a single bed in the corner, a small mirror on the wall, a manual sewing machine in the centre of the room, abandoned by thread and needle. Now and then he’d blink his eyes several times. I asked how this condition was affecting him and he answered with a wry smile and a subtle shrug of the shoulders.

This brief encounter stayed with me a long time. I was completely imbued by the peace of this man - who relies on his eyes for a living, who shrugged at the irony of no longer being able to see well enough to work, who proudly worships Ganesha, the God of wisdom, good fortune, remover of obstacles, bringer of prosperity.

He took great time to demonstrate his ritual - the lighting of incense, the small statue on a silver tray in the morning light, the earthen floor, the handwoven mat, the praying and quiet meditation.