Musings at Mori Road

He had been hawking fruits outside the gates of our colony ever since I could remember. Like many others, Mori Road had found a place for Mohammed and if you needed to buy fruits, you could be rest assured he would give you a good deal. Mohammed was advanced in his years. A tall well built man, he sported a beard that I always felt was immaculately maintained. He was a devout Muslim who never missed his prayers and believed he was doing the bidding of the Almighty by selling his share of fruits.  Years back in search of a better future he had left Bangladesh and made his way to Kolkata and then finally to Mumbai and therefore spoke Bengali. "It is always a pleasure to meet you Babu. I get to speak in my native tongue" he often told me. I usually bought my regular supply of fruits from him.  It was a couple of days before Bakri Eid. I was rushing to office and saw Mohammed in our staircase, delivering fruits to someone. "Hello Babu, I