Red Sneakers

As I sat wondering whether my act of bunking the first lecture was wise, my watch gave a faint beep. The seconds on the digital dial paused at double zero besides the two digits of number ten. There was, a narrow chance of me making it to the next lecture. I turned in search for the bus conductor. He must have been somewhere there collecting ticket revenue from the passengers at the back. I couldn't see him. All my glance caught, was some portion of a bulging blue velvety jacket.

Flipping the five rupee coin between my fingers, I stared blankly at the behind of the head in front of me. It belonged to an aunty, a woman in her early forties. Neatly oiled and combed, the aunty had plaited her hair and fixed it in a bun with a fancy hairpin. And a lovely hairpin that was. It had an elaborate floral design. Multicoloured plastic beads glowed from within each flower. The golden flowers burnt in the morning sun.

I sat staring at the hairpin for a long time. The bus was making very slow progress, almost mistaking every stop for its home. I was wondering whether I would make it on time. On second thoughts it struck me, I might just not get out of the bus, alive, considering that it was overwhelming with people today. The girl who stood holding my seat was pushing into me every time the bus gave a jolt. Once a lock of my hair got accidentally caught in between her grasp and the seat railing causing a sudden painful tug. Thankfully I still found the lock attached to my scalp. The thought of loosing it was far more painful than the pain from the tug. The girl was obnoxious, but to my relief, she smelt of fresh lime. Something I desperately needed this morning, to survive in the stuffy hell on wheels.

"lal quile, bus adda, purani dilli" the conductor was shouting from somewhere far behind. I felt the bus slow down. This must have been a stop for suddenly people behind the lime lady were hurrying. In her haste, a stout woman pushed hard into the lime lady to make way for herself. Unable to resist the aftermath, the lime lady tumbled onto me. I would have continued to suffer silently had she not stepped on my red sneakers with her high heels.

"Ooowww" I yelped.

Some people turned their heads in our direction. The girl steadied herself. Embarrassed she adjusted her moss green dupatta and smiled an apology towards me. I looked down at my feet. My red sneakers stared back at me. How inefficient they were. Couldn't even protect me from a heeled blow. I had bought them at a discount two years back. My best friend Apoorva had accompanied me to the sale where she selected another pair for herself, exactly of the same design, only three size bigger. Though I was skeptical about the idea, she had sweared solemnly that she wouldn't wear them to college on the same day as me. Later she had broken that promise and worn them every single day like I did.

I love my red sneakers. I team them up practically with every outfit I wear. They are cool. They hold within themselves, memories of me and my best friend. These days I can spot holes in my red sneakers. The red has faded to dusty red. But I still insist hanging onto them. It aches to even think of replacing them. However at this very instance I couldn't help but curse the flimsy pair. I was sympathizing with my poor feet. Perhaps I needed stronger covering. A pair that would protect me from ladies heels, cold, backaches. In short, from all calamities.

I finally reached my stop. I jostled my way through passengers and heroically emerged from the bus, alive. My lime lady had taken the seat, the moment my behinds had left it.

The bus zoomed away. A cloud of dust rose behind it, then subsided in my hair and face. Some of it even went through my nostrils. I sneezed and pulled a muscle. The bus stop was deserted. I looked around. Not a soul could be seen. Except, across the road a rickshawala paddled away wearily. I had to catch that rickshaw if I was to make it on time for the class. I yelled for the man, but he was across the road. He was singing loudly as if he was, the next Indian Idol. He couldn't hear me. I made a move to cross the road.

Something under me flapped. I noticed the laces on my left feet were undone. The rickshawala was paddling away. I knew I wouldn't catch him unless I rushed across the double lane road, made a stunt over the divider. I looked down at my feet. "should I do the lace and then rush for the rickshaw or should I take the rickshaw and then do the lace". "To be or not to be" my thoughts quoted Hamlet. "Literature runs in my very veins" I snorted over my own humor. Logic agreed to stop the rickshaw first, for it was now gliding away from me. Disgusted, I turned to look at my sneaker for the last time.

Innocently it blinked back at me. "do me up" it said. A mystic force grabbed me. What happened then is still beyond my comprehension. I squatted on the dust and started to tie the loose ends of the lace together.

Like lightening, it was caused as if in a split second's time. At that very moment, I was violently pushed out of my trance. A loud screeching of brakes filled the still morning air and then it ended in a bang. Not more than a yard away, a speeding car had hit a motorcycle. The motorcycle was trying to take an U turn form the cut in the divider when the sumo rammed into it. Though the driver had hit the brakes, the huge vehicle couldn't help but knock the biker off his machine. The motorcycle now lay, dented, a few yards away from where the rider lay holding his leg, screaming.

Next minute, a crowd had gathered around the accident area blocking the guilty and the victim from the view. I have absolutely no idea, from where so many people appeared on the road which till now, lay desolate . The atmosphere was heavy with animation. I could see the rickshaw stand, alone, at a distance from the gathering. For the rickshawala was the first one to reach to the biker's aid. A group of laborers who were heading for work, now stood on their tip toe and shamelessly attempted to peep over the crowd at the accident spot.

I sat motionless on the dust. The loose ends of my red sneaker's laces, held in my hands.

How I ran away

"Go, get yourself a walk" Dad yelled behind me. I ran past the elevator as two red buttons glowed moronically at me. The numbers on the display flashed one by one in descending. It would be another few minutes before it flashed eight. I couldn't wait. Dad's gleaming face at the doorway was killing me.

It was hurting to see, how much he was enjoying the show, that I was giving him.
Angry tears smothered my cold cheeks. I promised him in a bloodcurdling growl, I would not return to him, ever. Fluttering the loose straps of my sandals, I took the stairs. Wanting at every step, to yell out the sobs. Muffling them in the next, as I heard low voices and footsteps from the other flats around me.

Life was light on my nerves. I spent my days, moving pages, surfing through pictures of happy familiar faces with exotic locations in the background, witty status messages, cut copied pasted, messages in my inbox, old friends who have grown up, new ones I had never known, bad bad server, no donuts for you. It is, a world of my own. A world which does not demand humongous efforts from me. Which does not punish me with sarcasm, for my failures. A world which does not care who I am. Instead, makes me fall in love with myself. All I need to do is set up a photoshop tampered profile picture and then bask in hollow compliments.

Life was light on my nerves, until today, when he took the warm blanket of my addiction away from me. Dad was desperate to salvage my soul, that I had signed in blood, to world wide web. I patiently waited for him to come around. I tried my best to negotiate. Then finally broke out in retaliation. What was it? A divine intervention that made it dawn upon my father? I have no idea. All I know is that, today he was suddenly adamant about wrenching me away from my deprecated laptop, my Mephistopheles.

I walked into the cold November night in my cotton pajamas. As I had ended on the last step, the air hit me. I realized, it was a mistake to have stormed out without my jacket. I had also left my cellphone behind. The loose sandals were frantically attempting to escape. I bent down and fastened the Velcro. The blue uniformed security guard eyed me. What was he looking at? Maybe my hair. I had forgotten to tie them. They now fell on my face and shoulders in curls, went haywire in the wind. I knew I could not stand at his gaze for long. Rubbing my wet face with my hands, I stepped into the mist and disappeared from the watchman's view.

The night was silent. Far in the distance I could see the tall, shadowy trees swaying to the breeze. Their leaves rustled in heavy melancholy. A hoot shocked and then, faded in the dark as the owl glided past over me. I halted my pace near the huge park. I had seen this park, always bubble with little excited faces. Today, the park lay as silent as the night, bathed in the Moonshine. I spotted a bench. It seemed to empathize with my loneliness. I walked towards it and rested my warm flesh on the cold iron.
A toad croaked a ballad, in a bush somewhere behind me. Crickets had joined it in chorus. Few stars twinkled gloomily in the sky. I wrapped my arms around myself and rubbed my palms over my sleeves. An empty swing across the park was catching up with some rest. A night of tired contemplation was ahead of me.

I shook my head in dejection. Life is so unfair. It sets up challenges and offers us a choice, either to face its monsters bravely or hide our necks in the sand and pretend they are gone. What we fail to notice is the smartness with which life offers us the choices. We can only choose but to face our monsters. For running away from them will only lead us back to them, eventually.
The choice that life offers, is merely an illusion.

I choked. Sitting on the cold, hard bench, I knew, I was trapped. All this while, I had been running in circles. The world which existed in my laptop, where it was so easy for my dreams to come true, was a beautiful mirage I was chasing, with dedication. Now as I sat on the bench, alone and desolate, that mirage was gone and before me stood my life demanding an explanation for its wretched condition. I am a failure. However, there is a little hope. But the mere thought of how much has to be done to salvage that hope, rattled my bones. I didn't want to think anymore then. I wanted to go back to that mirage. But what was the point?

My anger didn't ebb. I was angry with myself. More I thought about my situation, more it bloated.

I looked up towards the huge building. Several square frames were lit by fluorescent light. The breeze collected laughters from them, and bore them down until they vanished in the silence of the night. I curled myself, held my knees together with my hands and buried my chin in them. "So this is how it feels, to be stranded" I thought. Tears crossed my cheeks again and got lost in my pajamas. I felt pathetic.

I wished Mum and Dad would come soon and collect me. Running away from home was not a good idea. My situation was like a bird who had lived in a cage all its life. I knew I couldn't fly. Then what if they never came? I might have been agitated at the state of my life, and stranded, and lonely, but there was no way I was going to give up on the rebellion, I had started back at home. Then again, if they never came to take me back, where will I go? I shivered, when the owl flew past me again. "kick-yourself kick-yourself" it sounded. "I ought to kick myself for the brilliantly stupid idea of running away" I thought.

And it was then I decided to kick myself. The owl was right. I needed to kick. I made a move, got my behinds off the bench, turned and swiftly past the park exit. Moonbeams flooded the lane which was lined on one side by glistening Cars and crouching trees on the other. I walked the length in oblivion. The Moon walked with me.

I had never been out at this hour of the night. I climbed the boundary wall and stood leaning on the wrought iron railing for a long time. The wind was stronger at this height. My hair batted frantically against my face. Far in the distance the road lay silently. The sodium streetlamps, stood on guard, like one eyed cyclops. They hung their heads and brooded over the road.

Before me, lay a vast stretch of the abandoned plot. Up from my balcony, it looked like some old man's bald scalp. But I realized from over the boundary railings, it was not a bald patch, but a dreamland. It was covered in knee high yellow grass, which now shimmered in the Moonlight. Between the shining grass grew, tiny white flowers which had turned their delicate petals towards the Moon, as if waiting to be kissed. A bougainvillea tree stood near the boundary and leaned against the railing like me. I wondered, if my touching the bough will startle the fairies who were fast asleep in the blossoms.

I got down from wall and broke a thin dry branch from the bougainvillea tree. Brandishing it in the air like a sword, I fought a moth, who was rushing home.

Once again I stopped at the park. This time I was tempted to nudge the dozing swing. Life may be unfair. We might be obligated to face our fears. But there is one choice life offers us in all its innocence. Its the choice of how we wished to face our fears. Our fears are no big deal if we chose to face them head on. It felt as if, my life will find its way out, on its own. All I needed to do was, walk.

I kicked the ground and in the next moment I was in the air, while all my worries stood waiting for me somewhere behind. I cherished the moment, as I hung, almost horizontally, in the air. I cherished the moment, for I knew how it felt, minutes ago, when I was on the ground. I cherished the moment because, I knew, what it will be like, when I will be on the ground again.

A chubby man with a pretty woman at his side, approached me from the distance. My happiness knew no bounds. Mum and Dad were smiling menacingly at me. I was hungry, cold and my knee ached from a bruise. I threw some tantrums. Then skipped down the moving swing and walked back towards home, where my dinner was waiting, warm, for me.