I’ve only recently started subscribing to WP’s Daily Post challenge – it’s a unique way to come up with inventive post ideas and at the same time set a “target” for myself. I’ve been waiting to write something interesting for a while now… and this daily prompt presented itself with just the right blend of inspiration and fiction for me to “kick it off”.
So many random thoughts walked all over my tiny little head when I read the one line that was today’s prompt. I knew I wouldn’t run out of ideas for the prompt – content perhaps, not ideas.
I wanted to write about the size 9s I’ve worn out this past year, trying to catch up with life and failing miserably.
And about the black Converses that I adored through the store window but never picked up, because I was in too much of a rush.
And about my friend’s faux-designer Nikes that he picked up at a local market in Delhi and flaunted for weeks, till they took on an altogether bedraggled look.
And about the patched-up glow-on-a-step hand-me-downs our maid’s son treasures, because they light up a path to his imaginary destination.
I also meant to write about the football boots I never bought, because I never found myself driven enough to own them.
And about the irritating office-wear shoes that I’ve neatly tucked away in a box, in the hopes that those hectic days of my university life stayed trapped in that modern day torture device.
And about the all-weather Crocs I so painstakingly bargained for, only to find out that every silver lining somehow has a black cloud attached to it.
I wanted to write about my Mom’s “healthy” chappals – placebos that they are, they are a source comfort to her.
And about my old school shoes that my Grannie retrofitted so she can templehop in style.
And about my brother’s new Crocs that he dint bother bargaining for, and that I instantly envied.
And about my neighbour’s foreign footwear, that brings a smile on his face with every step he takes.
I write instead about my old trusted walking shoes, that I haven’t thrown out in more than 10 years, because they bear testament to the many sports I loved and the many lives I had. They’ve run on countless railway platforms and airports to board crowded trains and aircrafts, taking me to a different place in life each time. They’ve seen my transition from rhyme to black verse to haiku, crushing my sub-ordinary accomplishments like ants on a hill. They’ve actually crushed a few ants and roaches as well (but I wont brag about that). They’ve watched thousands of people walk through my life and heard the countless stories of their trusted walking shoes.
In some ways, my old shoes have been my soles and my soul. And I write not in the hopes of a new sole but in that of a new soul.