Nobody could remember when this family moved in. One of the parking spaces under the Kemps Corner flyover, housed an electrical switch box, and was too small for a car to park, yet could accommodate   two wheelers. A man, his wife (pregnant) and a child took over the pavement  opposite as a kitchen and this spot as their home. Each morning, the man pushed an old trolley layered with blankets, and toys, and placed the baby with a bottle stuck in her mouth as they strolled down the pavement. During the day, their charpoy would be rested against the wall doubling up as a clothes line. Their belongings stashed away in a corner to make place for the two wheelers. The wife would usually cook out on the pavement early in the mornings and late evenings.  Before and after business hours of Noah’s Ark the antique shop.

He looked scruffy, but always smiled and raised his hand in a polite salaam. When any woman or senior citizen stepped out of the car or cab or anyone was laden with bags, he always lent a helping hand; but   accepted no tips. One night, seeing my cousins with their son looking for a taxi, he got one from the corner; the husband thanked him and tried to place a ten rupee note in his hand. He refused saying, helping others especially the elders and women is his duty. The next day, the husband went up to him with a bag of chocolates, biscuits and chocolate milk shake packets  for the children.

Each morning, he would be dress in khaki and head for his job. No one knew what he worked as, but couple of times one saw him board Bus 102 or 104 – both headed for the innards of the city like Null Bazar. The Chinese Room staff lived behind the restaurant and found them eager to help unloading the van which delivered vegetables, chickens, etc. They allowed the woman to take a few veggies and eggs, and an occasional chicken, in lieu of payment, I later discovered. They were the only ones allowed to use the washroom and bathing facilities at the rear, despite their roadside status. They soon had a son, Salim; later another son Afzal and another daughter completed their family.

As young collegians we (my friends who lived across the road) and I felt safe. Once we dared to take a bus home after a night show, insisting our escort carry on in the bus as it was past midnight. As we walked towards my building, his wife and he were standing at the corner taking in the air. He watched us, as we crossed the road; silently he and his wife walked alongside, first reaching me to my building then reached my friends  to their gate. Warning us that we shouldn’t be out alone so late. But he said nothing about it to our families.

One night, the girls who stayed in the beauty parlour in our building were being eve teased by some miscreants. Hearing their shouts for help, we rushed to the balcony, the girls stood by squealing, while the man was busy taking care of the overactive hormones. Much later, when I would be getting home late at night and was dropped off at the corner, I was easy about walking home, as I knew no harm would come to me.

As the children grew up, they went to school, the wife had taken up  household  jobs in the neighbourhood. One day, both man and wife were dressed up as were the four children. It wasn’t Eid nor Divali. Towards afternoon, the family returned with the couple wearing garlands and a tilak on their foreheads; there was a semblance of  celebration.  They had just returned from  the marriage registrar’s office, after legalizing their union! What prompted this  action was, that the older  daughter was of marrying age, what would the in-laws think about the prospective bahu’s parents?  The girl got married, she returned to her maika for her first delivery, the makeshift pram was replaced an authentic one.

Salim, the older boy was all but eight years, when he was standing outside Chinese Room  enjoying that whiff of air-conditioning on  a balmy summer night, as diners walked out.  One diner put a coin in his hand; in jiffy a large hand slapped Salim’s face and snatched the coin, the father turned to the diner and said: “Sahab, hum bhikari nahi hain; na mera beta kabhi bhi bheek se pet bharega.” So saying, he yanked Salim away, the diner and his companions were agape. This incident was narrated to us by a friend, who was among that group.   Some in the neighbourhood looked at them with contempt and even considered getting the evicted. Sure,  Kemps’ Corner  had its resident beggars.   But this family wasn’t clearly from that lot. They were simply roofless.

One day, we realized the head of the family wasn’t to be seen. Salim  by then had started washing cars and the younger one Afzal delivered papers. When my mother asked about the father, he told her he would be returning home from the hospital that day. We now saw a shadow of the man whose khaki shirt was hanging all too loose. Someone offered him a place to stay in till he got better, he used it only during the day time, so as not to intrude on the parking of  scooters/bikes! One night, he slipped away, but not without a respectful send off by his friends in the neighourhhood from the Chinese Room staff, the security guards, milkmen, etc. His family grieved in silence receiving condolences on their roadside sit out, the parapet of Noah’s Ark. Salim took up a job at a high end mithai store close by. One day, helping a regular customer with the parcels, the gent asked him if he  wanted to learn driving. Salim soon landed a job  as a driver-attendant.

In January 1993, when the Shiv Sena went on a rampage, this family was attacked by the mob; as they ran for cover, the mob damaged their property. Missing the protective arms of the patriarch, they sought temporary refuge with the mother’s employer.  Everyone   chipped in with clothes, beddings, vessels and the ubiquitous cot; but they refused any monetary help. One day, just as they came quietly, they left. The two wheelers parking space was devoid of the housekeeping touch. Salim, Afzal nor the mother had collected their pay.  We soon learnt that Salim’s employer  gave  him a room.  One day, the mother came to meet us and said that the boys had built a small house in their gaon, and she was moving.  Finally, they had a proper address.