Losing your chappals in the busy public places of Bangalore is not uncommon, but three pairs in a matter of six months are abnormal. Two sets were lost in temples and one in a cousin’s house, where a number of relatives and friends (his) had gathered to receive saintly advice from a preceptor. On two occasions transport was available to go home, use the home-bound Hawaii type for a few days and thus postpone the purchase of a new pair. In fact, my cousin and I spoke everyday for a couple of days to confirm that the original owner of the similar looking and slightly older forgotten pair had not come apologizing to return my property. On the third occasion, it got lost in a new upcoming temple in Malleswaram, where the management had not yet organized the chappal-stand and attendant. I was forced to walk on Sampige Road in the company of my well-heeled better half. The first shoe shop was quiet a distance away, and avoiding treading on pebbles, stones, uncured tar and what-not was a lot easier task than hiding from gossiping acquaintances and relatives (who knew I had retired from a non-IT-salaried company the previous month), known shopkeepers (who anyway were already in the habit of instructing their assistants to show “no, not that, that one, the cheaper stuff” whenever I entered), an ex-colleague whom I had lorded it over and lastly a few urchins who wondered if I would join the gang.

The shop-keeper had a broad smile as he welcomed us in and I got a lurking feeling that he was expecting me. My doubts were laid to rest when my wife and he got into an easy conversation – haggling and bargaining with familiarity which comes with both parties knowing that the other side was going to fight to the finish. He had jacked up the price sufficiently to counter my wife’s pre-emptive demand and they finally arrived at the correct price, which both were aware of. It left me confused why they did not agree to the known price in the first place. Amidst this rhetoric, I was favoured with an inexpensive pair, a safe bet against future loss.

All three pairs got lost in places related to godly association and my enquiring mind started searching for an inner meaning. Footwear is best left to deal with dust and dirt. The lowly pair (other than those of actresses who have amassed expensive ones for reasons best known to themselves) fulfills its duty by keeping its owner’s feet clean and intact. But as per the information I gathered in my search, it fulfills another very important lofty function – it carries away with it a large part of your sins to the next owner when it gets taken away from you. It is best not to hanker over a lost pair and never ever carry away another’s, either inadvertently or as replacement of your lost one or beware! You may bring on your head the additional secret karma of the other person. Does the footwear have a limit to the past sins it can hold, and so is it that some have to own so many pairs?

Now that I have become a jnani, my wife ensures that I park my chappals safely in public places so as not to lose them conveniently too often--- she is aware that I know that I have a big mountain to lose of ‘you-know-what’!