I consider tailoring as un métier d’art, a craft that can elevate the reputation of the craftsman or betray him. The betrayal will rest on the image of a man or woman whose sleeves are not equal in length. Many have said the two arms are not well aligned because there is a natural defect on the shoulders. But in real terms, the defects have been the results of wrong calculations from the meter hung on the neck like doctors’ stethoscope. To impress.

Really, I am fascinated at the sight of a tailor meticulously thumbing the cloth between the needle plate and the presser foot while maintaining the stitch regulator even. Teshwarnath does it all, mechanically talking to you just as the welder hits the hammer on the right spot while eyeing elsewhere.

There is no casualty. Teshwarnath hasn’t survived but has successfully crossed two generations of clients: those of the seventies and the present ones under the pressure of ready-made garments readily available along the pavements of towns and villages. Incidentally, a longtime client turned friend came to collect a pantalon patte d’éléphant.

Teshwarnath shop is at the end of a souk-like corridor where clothes shops face vegetable stalls, a common sight in the village of Bel-Air. Like many small boys of his generation, he has been to the Louis Dorbec Roman Catholic primary school in Bel-Air. He, being the eldest of the four children in the family, was placed as an apprentice at a tailor’s on the demise of his father. He is forever grateful to his trainer, his bourgeois, Mr. Aneerood Nund, a resident of the neighbouring village of Ernest-Florent. His training lasted eight years. Time was tough with an earning of 25 cents, then Rs 2.50 and at the age of 17, Rs 12.00 a week.

The village tailor has no regrets having been thrust into this métier, a noble profession, which has earned him a standard of living ensuring his daughters’ education up to becoming professionals. The modern generation, or rather the present one, finds in him a versatility rare in others in the same profession. The garçons d’honneur (groomsmen) find suits to their taste, those who prefer a taste of classic, the same old model is chosen with colours of your choice, garnet, blue, grey, striped, for blazers as well.

Speaking of blazers, I recall we, students at the Teachers Training College, were given materials for two trousers of grey colour and a black piece for a blazer and a badge of the college. I had thought for many years this blazer was the only one existing in addition for people in the Red Cross, Scouts, police and army departments. Teshwarnath ‘made’ my education: anybody can wear a blazer from any material, woollen or not provided, it is a separate outfit from the trousers. His regular clients come as far as Mahébourg, the coastal villages of the east, Poste-de-Flacq, St-Pierre. His reputation as a smart tailor has spread up to Beau-Bassin. The catalogues of present-day fashion and samples of cloth with nuances in the colours are signs of readiness for the provision of what the client looks for. Not that they are sophisticated nor is he, but they deserve a quality product.

To my last question, Teshwarnath says he is braced for keeping on his job; he is not a Mohican, he is an artist in his own way and he is comfortable inside the souk, on a small scale though. His exchange with visitors reflects a form of respect that feels genuine and grounded.