Clippity clop, clippity clop, clippity clop, went her slippers.
Her husband had brought her sick from the village last week. He was the caretaker of the park. “You can walk in the park every morning,” he had told her, “you’ll get better.” And so she did.
Clippity clop, clippity clop, clippity clop, went her slippers.
Reactions were varied. Some scowled, some looked at her with disapproval. Others shook their heads, looked at her then looked at each other.
They came home that evening, Members of the committee. They called her husband out and spoke to him in hushed tones. “She can’t walk in the park,” they said.
“She’s got diabetes,” her husband whispered. “She needs to walk.”
“No rubber slippers,” they said firmly. “Maybe barefoot. Less noise.”
“Can’t cut my feet,” she whispered to the walls, “doctor said be careful!”
“You can’t walk in the park,” her husband said as he entered the hut.
“But you are the caretaker,” she whispered. “You keep the park clean so they can walk?”
“Too much noise from your chappals,” he said wearily. “Can’t you walk outside on the road?”
She looked at him. He nodded. He knew she had blacked out twice and was scared to go out alone. “Walk barefoot then,” he whispered and shook his head immediately. She couldn’t cut her feet again. He had been there when the doctor had read out her sugar count.
“Walk,” said the doctor. “You are lucky. You live inside a joggers park. You can walk all the time!”
She searched for shoes the next morning. “People throw away their old pairs when they get a new one,” she told her husband. The rubbish dumps yielded pairs that were too small, big or some whose insides would have cut her feet to pieces.
She found two singles. One red, the other once white. They fitted well. She stood in front of her husband wearing them, overjoyed.
“You can’t,” he said quietly as he looked at her feet.
“Why?” she asked.
He looked sadly at the morning walkers. “They won’t like those,” he said. She went back to the dump and threw them away, wearily.
She fished under her bed that night and pulled out her old tin trunk. “What are you looking at?” he asked angrily as she pushed back the photo of a fifteen year old boy; their son. It was five years. No news. “I don’t want to be a gardener,” he had said. She had heard the slap and heard him packing that night. “Don’t go,” she had cried. He had hugged her and left when his father slept.
“What will you do?” she had cried out as she ran after him.
“I’ll work as a truck cleaner ma,” he had said, “I’ll see the world. Don’t worry.”
She missed him.
Next morning she saw the letter.
It was from him. He drove a lorry. There was a photo. He looked happy, handsome. “Ma,” he wrote. “Do you need anything?”
“Walking shoes,” she wrote on the post card and sent it to the transport company address.
She watched the others as they walked next morning. She chuckled to herself. She looked at their shoes. “Mine will be better,” she thought and chuckled again.
She had another blackout, outside, on the road.
The doctor shook his head. “Diabetic Coma,” he whispered. “Take her to the hospital.”
He took her home. She died without too much trouble. The postman brought a parcel. He tore it open. “For you ma,” the note said.
That evening the walkers for once stopped their walk as the funeral bier was carried out. They looked at each other. They frowned. “Why would a corpse have on a new pair of walking shoes?” they wondered, then they continued walking..!.
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Literally teared up reading this article.
What a heart rending story.
How discriminating is our society
It leaves all of us to search our souls when we are judgemental and condescending on peoples outward appearances, especially their clothes and footwear.
My father had a great saying for this. “If you saw a poor man eating dry bread, people would say, “he is hungry”
If it was a rich man eating dry bread same people would say “ What humble habit”
Thank you BOB for such great messages daily 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻
Hi Alfred. Good to see you here and thank you for your response. Indeed a wise man your father!
Thank you Steffi
That story’s heartbreaking, Bobby.The judgemental folk should’ve bought her a pair of shoes. That would have been more humane than expecting her to walk silently. Her death didn’t bother the callous people.
Yes Kripa. We have become stonehearted very often ourselves.
Hmmm. Stony hearts.
Though the context is not exactly relevant I am reminded of these lines below from “The beggar maid” by A.L Tennyson which l learnt in Std VIII.
“Barefooted came the beggar maid
Before the king Cophetua.
In robe and crown the king stept down,
To meet and greet her on her way;…”
What a contrast in perceptions and changing lndian values!!
Lovely lines Robin, thank you
A Very heart wrenching story Bobby brother, how cruel is our society to discriminate a poor soul, who wished nothing but to walk, that too for health reasons. Instead of passing comments on her clippety clop shoes, they could have been humane to get her a pair of shoes. Many a times we become so judgemental on others, but how good can we be to set an example!!!!
Thank you for your daily thoughtful messages annan🤝🤝👏🎆🙏🙏💐💐
Yes Evelyn, often we ourselves become cruel, because we forget to look deeper or don’t bother to look around. Thank you for your response.