"THE COBBLER"
It was raining heavily for the past two weeks drenching the crowd. But none seemed bothered by the rains. The rains had become a part of the morning city schedule in the months of August. I could see here and there some black and colored umbrellas moving past, children crossing roads. The horns of the cars and buses seemed to shrill into my ears. My office was 10 minutes walk from the bus stop. I wiped the water that had moistened my spectacles with my duppata. As I walked past the large shady tree in front of the government school my eyes searched for the old cobbler who used to sit there. It’s been a week since I had seen him. I wondered why he was not to be seen. Probably the rains made it difficult for him. I had reached my office. The files on my table lay lazily scattered. I remembered how I had hurried past five to board the city bus. I slowly cleaned the mess on my table and settled.
It was raining heavily for the past two weeks drenching the crowd. But none seemed bothered by the rains. The rains had become a part of the morning city schedule in the months of August. I could see here and there some black and colored umbrellas moving past, children crossing roads. The horns of the cars and buses seemed to shrill into my ears. My office was 10 minutes walk from the bus stop. I wiped the water that had moistened my spectacles with my duppata. As I walked past the large shady tree in front of the government school my eyes searched for the old cobbler who used to sit there. It’s been a week since I had seen him. I wondered why he was not to be seen. Probably the rains made it difficult for him. I had reached my office. The files on my table lay lazily scattered. I remembered how I had hurried past five to board the city bus. I slowly cleaned the mess on my table and settled.
“Good Morning Neeta Madam…How is Chunnu?.”
“Good Morning Sankaran. Chunnu has joined preschool” I greeted the peon who had brought in the tea. Chunnu was my son. Sankaran placed the tea cup on my table and left. This man has been a happy person always with a smile on his face.
I opened the files one by one. There were lots of pending files some of them with missing documents, some of them to be handed over to the superiors, etc. etc. One file named Chidambaram, Age 67 Application for an educational loan. The file has been pending for long. Neither the documents needed had been submitted nor anyone responsible for the same had reported. I decided to move the dormant file into our office store room.
“ Sankaran please move these files to the store room. And please take the tea cup away.”
All through the morning I kept myself busy with the files and phone calls. The office remained empty with some employees on leave and those present were engaged in some chit chat with fellow employees. It was half past one and I slowly got up from my seat.
‘” Neeta…. What are your plans for Sunday? Are you leaving for Trichy?”
“ No Radha Akka … Tonight we are leaving for Velankanni . I will come back only on Tuesday.”
The Velankanni trip was one organized by our church annually and our family made it a point not to miss any of them.
I walked past the government school and once again looked where the old cobbler used to sit. He was nowhere to be seen. I waited for my bus at the bus stop. These city buses need not be mentioned lack of timing and rash driving.
“Oh my God”
“What happened Akka?” I asked the lady standing beside me. The face seemed familiar though I never I knew her name.
“My sandals Neeta …. How am I supposed to travel in the city bus with these?’
The soles of her sandals had torn off.
“If only Chidambaran was there… my sandals would have been mended.”
“Which Chidambaran Akka? You mean the old cobbler in front of the school?’
“Yes Neeta … What to do? Poor man….. His fate. His son passed away last week .The boy was the last victim of the rash drivers of the city bus. The chap was preparing to join for some professional course. I think Chidambaran had applied for an educational loan in your office.”
“Yes Akka”
I remembered the file I had transferred to the dormant section. I also recollected the last week’s newspaper front lines which covered news of the young lad’s accident. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I slowly wiped them with the end of my duppata. The poor old cobbler seemed to be a part of my life.
I boarded the city bus and sat in a window seat. The sun shined brightly after the morning rains. The breeze blew on my face and I kept saying in my mind “This Velankanni trip is for the cobbler and his son……”
__END__
SOURCE BY-SIMI JOSEPH
PUBLISHED BY-OURHELLO.COM
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