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Sucharita Parija

Abstract Drama Fantasy

4.5  

Sucharita Parija

Abstract Drama Fantasy

The Chappals

The Chappals

2 mins
338


The sharp sound,

That filled the whole lane,

On a dull Sunday morning,

It was coming in rhythm,

From our scrap dealer.


Lounging lazily on the bed,

I was in my dreamland.

Who wakes up at 8 a.m.?

When it's a Sunday,

And it has a foggy sky.


I did not have to rush,

For an unfinished chore.

When the house-helps are,

Out of the scene,

I could sleep quietly,

For the next two hours.


But, with my doomed fate,

The noise ruined my sleep.

The voice forced me to get up,

To clean the house,

Plus giving the discarded stuff.


Loads of torn garments,

The damaged utensils,

Broken glass items.

It's our yearly cleaning time,

When Diwali is round the corner.


A lone box attracted me,

Layers of dust sitting on it,

It was full of cobwebs.

The moment I touched it,

My hands turned black.


I sneezed continuously,

Even had a bout of cough,

But the damage was mild.

Thankfully for the Covid-19 season,

The mask had covered my nose.


A pair of chappals,

Worn and a bit torn,

It was packed in the case.

I recognized it fast,

They were very familiar.


I had not thrown them, still,

It belonged to my father.

He had left them with me,

They were a unique symbol,

To remind me that,

He would return shortly.


I felt slightly nostalgic,

A lone tear escaped my eye.

I realized it then,

Dad had not visited us,

For the last two years.


They were only footwear,

Maybe it was comfortable for him.

Papa would not identify the pair,

Yet, it unveiled some memories,

From yesteryears.


The footwears push us to move,

In happy times and painful years.

Still, they are loyal friends,

Never leave one's side,

Even when they are ripped.


Life is incomplete without them,

Fancy or plain does not matter.

My father is not a fan of shoes,

He buys those that are easy to manage,

Never fuss over fashion or color.


My dad is the most loving man,

Ever found in the entire universe,

He has a solution to any problem,

Be it health, wealth, or psychic.

We were ever clinging to him,

As we felt safe our whole life,

Since he is around.


There is invariably a cycle in our life,

That makes us immobile at times.

When I was a child,

I was fascinated by my dad's shoes,

Eager to step into them.

Time has changed now,

My child is trying to fit into mine.


I can never tell my father that,

I would step into his shoes someday.

It's a huge responsibility,

To be similar to him.

I can keep his shoes,

That recalls his nearness,

Yet, I will never step into it.


It's a wake-up call,

For me to reflect,

And to take effort,

To fit into my dad's dreams.

It's the perfect hour,

Now or never.


I can never feel lonely,

In my whole life,

As I hold my dad's chappals.

It is a prized possession,

I will keep them preserved,

During my lifetime.


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