Cobbler, Indian Cobbler Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

Cobbler, Indian cobbler,
I can still see him
Though the number has fallen,
The same cobbler, poor cobbler
Living poorly
And eking out a living,
Getting awkward under bizarre situations
When technology has reached it frontiers
Moving with shoe stuffs
Looking for shoes and slippers
As for repair, mending and polish
In train compartments and traffic places
In this age of artificial leather and substitutes for
The same men serving with utmost humility,
But what have we to them?