'It's not glamorous, but it's an honest day's work': The tale of the shoeshine man

At 54, Suresh Tukaram Gawalkar is the oldest shoeshine boy – rather, man – at Churchgate station. With his skeletal frame, sunken jaws and stained teeth, he appears tired. After all, polishing about 100 pairs of shoes every day is not just exhausting but also mundane and tedious – especially if it has been a routine for decades.

Gawalkar came to Mumbai from Sindhudurg after his parents died when he was just 12. The footpath became his home. He did "tapori ke kaam" such as picking up load but consciously stayed away from thievery, drugs and beggary, he says. In time, he was introduced to the business of polishing shoes.

"At 12, when a boy suddenly starts earning, he can get waylaid by gutka, paan, charas, ganja, cigarette, daaru... I had to be very strong but couldn't resist alcohol. I drink even today, but always within limits... at home, only at night after bath and puja." When he was 18, he came upon a job in Crown Mill, Parel. With a good salary, lodging and food taken care of, the blue-collar job came with dignity of labour. He was happy.

Then, in 1982, the mill shut down because of the textile union strike and Gawalkar returned to Churchgate station, polishing shoes. Soon, he fell in love with a girl who worked in an office at the station. He married her and the couple had three sons. Life had more troubles in store though. Their second son, who was mentally impaired, passed away. Gawalkar was jolted into saving and soon collected enough to stop living on rent and buy a home in Virar. This was 15 years ago.

Early mornings, long days

"I used to feel very bad polishing shoes. I still do. Par sawaal pet ka tha (But it was a question of feeding my family)," he says, determined that his children shouldn't "waste their lives" as he did. "When my eldest son gave up studying, he told me that he will die or remain hungry but not take up polishing shoes. Today, he works at the Andheri Metro and the younger one is completing his post graduation in commerce."

Galwalkar wakes up at 3am each day. His wife packs him a tiffin before he catches the 4.25am train to Churchgate. At 6am, he opens shop and from then on, it's brisk business till noon. A 20-minute lunch break later, he returns to the same spot and calls it a day by 3.10pm. By the time he reaches home, it's 5.30pm and he is exhausted. "People come to get their shoes polished even at 10pm. I can easily make more money. But even if I earn Rs2,000 a day, I'm still a boot polishwalla. Where's the respect in that?"

It's a tough life but there are some rewards – and not just monetary. Gawalkar earns about Rs700-800 a day. He counts over 50 customers as regulars. "Even if I'm polishing one person's shoes, two other customers will wait patiently in line but not go to another boot polishwalla."

Watching the world go by

Even in the two-three minutes that it takes to polish their shoes, Gawalkar's customers enquire about his family and whether his sons are serious about their career. "They care about me," he says. Lawyers and corporates from the nearby courts and offices send their designer shoes with their servants to Gawalkar for a shine. "The leather of these shoes is soft and has a natural sheen," says Gawalkar, now an expert in distinguishing between fake and fine leather.

His polishing kit has brushes, one for applying, others for scrubbing a shine each for black, brown and yellowish polish. The polishes are numerous – black, brown, yellow, white cream, yellow cream, black cream, brown cream. "For regular shine, the cost is Rs10. For colour polish, it's Rs15."

To continue operating at the station, he has to pay a monthly rent of Rs1,000 to the authorities. And sitting cross-legged for nine hours daily at the same spot has led to aching knees and a bad back.

There's also plenty of time to watch the world go by. "I see how men try to hit on women who've been waiting for more than 20 minutes. Or people venting their personal frustrations on fellow commuters. I've also witnessed robberies. The robber usually gets caught. Kutte ki tarha marte hai usko (the robber gets beaten up like a dog). Bad deeds lead to bad results," he reasons.

Gawalkar recalls an episode where a woman on a train left behind a brand new bag in the luggage compartment. Three greedy commuters had been eyeing the bag. Two of them grabbed it and a fight ensued. The police intervened and broke open the lock. Along with some towels and clothes, out fell the body of a baby. The two men said they were innocent but were arrested. The third eyewitness, who had been watching from afar, told some shoeshine boys that he knew the true story. They turned him in and he helped unravel the case by helping police make a sketch of the woman.