<p class="bodytext">Footloose and free was I until a sports injury left me crippled. The once eager-to-sprint individual was now rendered incapable of all that and then some more. But that was hardly the last straw that broke the camel’s back.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Recently, I set foot outside home to run some errands. I espied my fancy sandals, which I jokingly call my Cinderella shoes, due to their gleaming appearance! Anyway, I looked at them a bit wistfully, having not worn them for ages for any wedding or other functions – not surprisingly, given that in South India footwear is often removed in marriage halls. After a moment’s contemplation—just a moment—I decided to wear them for the walk and drew them out of the closet.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Alas, my sandals betrayed me mere yards from home. I was crestfallen, with no decent footwear and miles to go (before I sleep, if I may add with due apologies to Robert Frost). Panic-stricken, I looked around me, and my eyes fell upon a beautifully arrayed shoe rack. Amma, my mother, dragged me in, saying she would not have me walking around barefoot. However, upon seeing the price tag, I almost threw a tantrum. The shopkeeper was understandably miffed. As for Amma, she fumed, refusing to accompany me anywhere in future if I were to throw such tantrums or behave in such a manner.</p>.<p class="bodytext">I protested, quoting Christian Dior: “You can never take too much care over the choice of your shoes. Too many women think that they are unimportant, but the real proof of an elegant woman is what is on her feet.”</p>.<p class="bodytext">Amma remained unimpressed with my retort, pointing out that this logic didn’t apply to my behaviour, which showed little regard for the salesperson’s efforts. She went on: After all, weren’t they human beings? Didn’t they deserve a better deal?</p>.<p class="bodytext">I grumbled until reason prevailed over ego, and I promised Amma that I would be more mature in the future. In the meanwhile, I limped homeward, half-skipping and half-walking on one sandal, until I entered the safety of our colony – a veritable oasis where I could remove both my sandals and walk freely without running into any obstacles.</p>.<p class="bodytext">As I reflected on the experience and conjured up a replacement for my Cinderella shoes to go with my finery, I vowed to treat delicately wrought works of art with more sense and sensibility. After all, as Bette Midler rightly observed, “I firmly believe that with the right footwear one can rule the world.” Indeed, different shoes are suited to different occasions – a valuable lesson I will not soon forget.</p>
<p class="bodytext">Footloose and free was I until a sports injury left me crippled. The once eager-to-sprint individual was now rendered incapable of all that and then some more. But that was hardly the last straw that broke the camel’s back.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Recently, I set foot outside home to run some errands. I espied my fancy sandals, which I jokingly call my Cinderella shoes, due to their gleaming appearance! Anyway, I looked at them a bit wistfully, having not worn them for ages for any wedding or other functions – not surprisingly, given that in South India footwear is often removed in marriage halls. After a moment’s contemplation—just a moment—I decided to wear them for the walk and drew them out of the closet.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Alas, my sandals betrayed me mere yards from home. I was crestfallen, with no decent footwear and miles to go (before I sleep, if I may add with due apologies to Robert Frost). Panic-stricken, I looked around me, and my eyes fell upon a beautifully arrayed shoe rack. Amma, my mother, dragged me in, saying she would not have me walking around barefoot. However, upon seeing the price tag, I almost threw a tantrum. The shopkeeper was understandably miffed. As for Amma, she fumed, refusing to accompany me anywhere in future if I were to throw such tantrums or behave in such a manner.</p>.<p class="bodytext">I protested, quoting Christian Dior: “You can never take too much care over the choice of your shoes. Too many women think that they are unimportant, but the real proof of an elegant woman is what is on her feet.”</p>.<p class="bodytext">Amma remained unimpressed with my retort, pointing out that this logic didn’t apply to my behaviour, which showed little regard for the salesperson’s efforts. She went on: After all, weren’t they human beings? Didn’t they deserve a better deal?</p>.<p class="bodytext">I grumbled until reason prevailed over ego, and I promised Amma that I would be more mature in the future. In the meanwhile, I limped homeward, half-skipping and half-walking on one sandal, until I entered the safety of our colony – a veritable oasis where I could remove both my sandals and walk freely without running into any obstacles.</p>.<p class="bodytext">As I reflected on the experience and conjured up a replacement for my Cinderella shoes to go with my finery, I vowed to treat delicately wrought works of art with more sense and sensibility. After all, as Bette Midler rightly observed, “I firmly believe that with the right footwear one can rule the world.” Indeed, different shoes are suited to different occasions – a valuable lesson I will not soon forget.</p>
