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.