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It was a beautiful sunny day , shores of bombay ... Whe i was walking the streets of colaba causeway with my newly bought flea stall kolhapuri chappals which made a tip tap sounds when worn new...while i wore a stole to cover my strappy summer dress , sweeping through street calls of the many vendors looking at a white tourist as a potential buyer .. Those calls annoyed me till i met a friemd at a local beer hall cafe mondegar and met a young boy who was the local touch ... Till we heard the heartwarming stories and had the yummy stirfry with hoe garden and the joy of dropping juke box coins brought in nostalgia much more than the songs itself .. And the story of the boy the son of the street vendor started with a happy smile to a silence which was interupted by a beautiful real story , whichh turned the irritable vendor calls to a beautiful song of life , as for an author like me always looking for stories .. This i must tell you was a complete one with right turns and twists amd the real flavor and what bettwr moment could it be that i realised " i am a part of the story and in the midst of my new book" The boy was not so young now after 5 years in the potters studio in the don chawalsmof dharavi the boys home...