They seemed to be the most unlikely of friends. The elderly cobbler
located on the pavement near the General Post Office at Fort, Mumbai, looked
like he had made a permanent niche for himself, with his small makeshift shed.
Business nowadays must have been very slow, and he would possibly depend on the
porters and handcart pushers from the local docks. They would have more and
more footwear to repair. Most regular blue collar workers in GPO area, in the
Docks and at Ballard Estate would probably not have footwear that needed
regular repair.
Thus, the elderly cobbler seemed quite relaxed and may have
been able to take a quick shuteye in the afternoon. He must have had his lunch,
packed for him from his home. He had placed his lunch leftovers in a torn up
newspaper and kept it above the shed. The crow must have been waiting for him
and must have been a regular friend, and a daily companion. For, hardly, had he
placed the leftovers, the crow flew in from the tree branches above, and was
eating it up, peacefully and content.
In all that hustle and bustle, and the bumper-to-bumper
traffic, and the horns and sounds, and people rushing by, and general chaos,
these two friends, the crow and the elderly cobbler, had found their own small
island of peace.
