My shoes

My first power joggers. Woodland. Dark brown, suede, with really long laces. My beloved shoes. My second skin.

 For ten years, we raised two children together, running to bus-stops,walking to stationery stores for endless school supplies, climbing umpteen stairs hewn onto hillsides of Andamans to reach a really disappointing mud-volcano crater(“It is just “mud” mama”).

Then, on daily evening walks with the man I love, my better half, quickening to a semi-jog when kids’ exam revisions are due, granny is waiting for her hot meal, or a call from the hospital emergency room crackles on the mobile for my doctor husband.

Endless taking off and wearing them ,outside monasteries in Leh, cave temples in Ajanta -Ellora, Pir-baba-mazars to beg the Gods for good health. Wearing them through rain and slush, mud and macadam, on pavements and dirt-tracks.

I love you , my shoes.But it is time for me to give you away. The laces are caked hard from constant muddiness, the soles worn thin, the body wrenched apart from the seams.We have had good innings. Goodbye.