Shon Mehta

In one of the islands of Vidari there lived a tanner, whose name the villagers rarely bothered to remember. His life was simple. Day after day he worked by the river, soaking, scraping, and curing. He sold his cured hides in a nearby village. Although his labor fed his family, his heart remained restless. Whenever he carried his hides to the market of Trishala , only the poor came to him. They would touch his leather, haggle, and buy, while the wealthy passed by with a glance of mild contempt, as though the very smell of the tanner’s work offended them. Disheartened by this constant rejection, he told himself,  “I will create the finest hide in all of Jivavarta”.  He began to dream of creating something so perfect that even those who despised him would be forced to bow before it. Days passed, months passed, then years passed. Festivals came and went, but he kept working. His children grew up watching a man chase perfection. Still he worked. He spoke little, ate little. His wo...