The Cobbler

The Cobbler by the Road.

     He reached his tiny road corner on time as he regularly did. He swept the ground, sprinkled water, spread a sheet of plastic, placed his odd and even boxes and cartons that were picked from roadside discarded garbage. He placed them neatly, one next to the other in a neat row. Covered the boxes with an old newspaper. Placed some plastic and tin containers of creams and polishes. Brushes, needle, thread, his iron rusted tools, shoe strings, iron stand, that he used daily for his work. He took a bottle of water and cleaned some of the holy pictures pasted on the wall behind him, washed his iron stand on which he fixed the shoes for mending, all his odds and evens.

     He then took a bunch of incense sticks, lighted them and spread the smoke and smell in encircling motion directed towards his holy pictures, his iron gadgets, on every thing that  was used for his work in his tiny open shop. He then bent down to pay his respect to his Gods and to those things that brought him his daily earnings. 

     It was the cobbler by the road. The cobbler sitting in his own premises ready for the day.

     The shoes that we remove outside our houses, a particular Indian trend, outside kitchens, outside our religious places, considering them to be dirty, impure, something that is unholy and should not be brought into our most sacred places.  The same shoe is a source of income for the cobbler and hence he worships every tool that is used to mend it. The iron stand on which he fixes every shoe before mending was worshipped with incense sticks, joining hands and praying and bowing down to signify its importance.

     What a paradox?

He is of the same genesis of cobblers and shoemakers of generations, from the first person who mended the shoe to the latest shoe designers. Taking off shoes, washing hands after touching them,  look like myths when the humility and the faith of the cobbler makes the same shoe so important to  his as his source of income. For him his work is worship. For him to progress and support his family. How rupee by rupee he collects his earnings that an entire family depends over.

     It is only the faith and trust that keeps him going on and on over the years, over generations, doing the same job. Believing that it is his job and he should do it with complete faith and dedication, only then it will give him his success, his daily income.

     What a paradox?

Today we do not even think of such a negligible entity in the society. We do not even notice him sitting in a small corner of the road dedicated to his work, when we pass in luxurious cars. It is only when we need him badly, while walking on the road our footwear betrays us that we search for him.

But these unnoticed, personalities teach us what faith can be. What is trust in the universal power. What is true dedication. And what is it to be patient and calm.

      Cause, do we have these qualities to face our much faster, much complicated lives?

Definitely not. Not with that humility and simplicity of a cobbler by the road.

     “O people of the city, everyone knows

       I am a cobbler by trade and tanner by caste

      One of the low castes, and yet within my heart

       I meditate upon God

       I am haunted day and night by the thought

       Of my low birth, society and deeds.

       O God! The Lord of the universe!

       O life of my life, forget me not

        I am ever thy slave.   ----------------- Guru Ravidas.

What is the difference in the prayer of a cobbler and a connoisseur?

What is the difference between this God and that God? Or for that matter, what is the difference between God’s own creations?  He or we?