Yesterday, while I was on my way back home after a bit of grocery shopping, one of my slippers flew out of my foot. With all the frustration of the weight I was carrying, I tried to wear it again. But, alas, it was broken. And I was not even halfway home.
Now, what should I do? I thought of tying the broken part. But, with what? No….. Bad idea. I thought of calling my friends. No….. I can’t…. I am too polite. Only with one option left, I took both the slippers, shoved them into my bag and started walking without slippers, on bare feet.
Now when I started walking, I realized how odd it feels. But, even when I took the slippers from my bag, it had dawned on me that it’s going be tough. Too awkward situation. It’s almost like walking naked. I tried to hide my legs with my bag. But no… it can’t be done. I started to walk fast and my goal was “home”.
I am a bit of a paranoid. So, I thought now everyone would be staring at your feet. But, people, nobody cared. Never once, did a person throw their glances towards my poor feet. But instead, surprisingly, now, I started to notice what others were wearing which I had never done before.
On the way home, I was thinking, as children we would dash out of the house to play with our friends, wearing some washed out dress, mostly without slippers, and our mothers calling out to have some food before the energy oozing session. And how the process of ageing has instilled a heap of pride on owning things which never mattered to us?? And how wearing at least the cheapest slipper was a matter of pride.
And while I was nearing home, I almost didn’t pay attention to the two guys who were staring at my feet and whispering “Chappal”. HAHA… But, until then I was past that phase of shame.
Good