[null, {"document_url": "http://someloudthinking.blogspot.com/2008/06/cobbler.html", "unformatted_src": "http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_96Gx9bFjQkY/SF9sLLU9UMI/AAAAAAAAABg/UYcnb33gdhA/s200/shoe.jpg", "src": "http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_96Gx9bFjQkY/SF9sLLU9UMI/AAAAAAAAABg/UYcnb33gdhA/s200/shoe.jpg", "formatted_filename": "shoe"}, null, null, null, {"document_url": "http://someloudthinking.blogspot.com/2008/06/cobbler.html", "unformatted_src": "//3.bp.blogspot.com/-Eoh-r-l7tDo/WPTPKpQm4qI/AAAAAAAABMo/L6xiNVSwSJoUyuTPP-gHxus-OTAJuCsBwCK4B/s80/dev.jpg", "src": "http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Eoh-r-l7tDo/WPTPKpQm4qI/AAAAAAAABMo/L6xiNVSwSJoUyuTPP-gHxus-OTAJuCsBwCK4B/s80/dev.jpg", "formatted_filename": "dev", "alt_text": "My photo", "rendered_width": 80, "rendered_height": 80}, null, null, null, null, null, null, null, null]

The cobbler It was unusual to see this man next to my house. He was sitting huddled in a corner with his little collection of tools that he uses to mend footwear. It was unusual. In UAE you throw what isn't working any more and buy a new one. Footwear was one of those things. There is no re using/recycling. The shops have promotional offers all the time. There is a lot of waste land for you to dump refuse. Reasons are plenty.

Secondly, no ones sells any service sitting on the road side or under a shade. I have seen men selling telephone recharge coupons on the road. This man was the first one I saw sitting down in a corner in a shade waiting for customers.

Usually I see him when I am coming back from work. He will always have a smile for any one who passes by. First he smiles and then he looks at your shoes. After all he is a cobbler. But different. Even that smile.

I had never given him business. But I always got that smile. A smile that held all the sadness that eyes could hold. It told a million stories. There was angst, love, longing, and yet a faint radiance. It came with out expecting anything (though he might have looked at my shoes with longing!) Some times when I go out to the shop across the street with my daughter, she also gets one of those smiles. A smile that pulls your heart strings. The smile that would make you put your arm around him and say that "it will be alright".

Later I learned that he was from Afghanistan. He has lost his papers a long time back. No passport, visa, nothing. He just sat there with his crude tools and waited for customers who would rather buy a new shoe than wait in front of him. And then late in the night he would take his stuff and leave.

In winter he was there with a blanket wrapped around him. Now it is summer. I haven't seen that meloncholy smile for weeks. I miss him.