JUTIYAAN

Hukum chand a juti maker is struggling hard to wake up but his body is aching and resisting against his wish. Pulling himself up he recalls that it rained heavily last night and water dripping from the straw ceiling of his house kept him awake. His eyes impatiently rush towards the corner of the room and his breath for a moment freezes. Seeing the jute bag full of jutti dry and safe he felt relived. He was afraid of water seeping into the jute bag. Today is yet another day for him and as usual he has to leave his house by 7am thinking whom to sell his jutiya so that he can earn a bit of his share of bread. Carrying the burden of heavy jute bag on his back, he sets his journey on foot roaming from one village to another in quest of looking for a customer. As he was showing his jutiya to one of the shopkeepers, a british officer approaches him. Looking at the delicacy of embroidery and sophistication of design he gives hokum chand Rs 20 advance to make for him same juti but of 1cm in size. The british officer wants to wear it as a brooch on his uniform’s coat. Hukum chand cannot forget that day when he was paid the same amount of money for making a 1cm juti which he used to get by selling a pair of jutiya.
Hukum chand today is the last generation who has witnessed the high & lows of his occupation as well of his town before and after independence. He belongs to a lineage who dedicated themselves to this profession not out of choice but out of vulnerability. His community is known as the “chamaars” or “jatiye” and lives on the edge of farukhnagar. Hukum chand has faced much alienation due to his profession and caste. Whether it was drinking water from a different tap at school or getting down from the bus as driver refused to drive until or unless he gets off with his “raw leather” which made the entire bus stink of dead skin. His pain of humiliation is awful but he still takes pride in thinking about pair of jutiya which he made for nawab’s family and rich businessmen. According to him Nawab’s jutiya used to be fancy, delicate and did not have heels. He used to change atleast ten jutiya a day. Where as for local people working in the fields, their jutiya used to be simple, hard and weighed 1 or 2kg as they were concerned with durability. Today most of his fellow men has given up this profession and turned into labourers or tailors. New generation is reluctant to the very idea of being a juti maker. The process of washing the “raw leather”, drying and rubbing with oil make them feel puky. Youngsters do not want to be a part of profession which is looked down in society. Hukum chand is today 82 yr old and his livelihood has become obsolete. Leather is no longer affordable and cheap rubber slippers have taken over. Sitting in his old small shop hokum chand epitomize his life’s struggle and caste politics in a poem which he recites by heart.