4 Jan 2016

The Saga of Sore Feet

Once upon a time, there was a pair of feet with a human attached to them on their upper ends. Now these feet were your typically happy feet, even though they couldn't tap out any dance move and were not attached to a penguin. But they found their nirvana on a daily basis, curled between the folds of a blanket heated by the human. Although the feet loved the night-long toasty siestas, their love for the human was quite limited in scope.

But of late, it was at an all time low. The human had been too careless too often, leaving the feet at the whims of the temperature that spiralled down and down. The latest among the grievances of the feet were the newly constructed windows in their rooms.

"But windows aren't supposed to be there!", Left told Right, as they sat curled up close, hours past midnight. Right just wiggled her big toe at him, and went back to sleep.

It was obvious that Right didn't mind the change. She had argued earlier about the advantages of ventilation and how good air is for feet in general. But Left wasn't convinced.

"There is no malice in the human," he thought. "Nor any sense, for that matter. To argue that wide gaping holes on either side of my single-room abode are an aesthetic addition." He scoffed at the thought. " 'To please the senses.' he had said. Hers or mine?"

As the Sun crawled out of the misty east, the feet were jolted out of their sleep and pinned against what could only be ice. The ripples of the shock rose up till it found the human who quickly pulled the feet back up in the air.

"You almost froze us to death!" yelled Right. "Would've been the only task you managed to complete, if it were done." Left was still shivering and trying to thaw his senses.

"Sorry, but it's time." muttered the human, the rest of his sentence lost to silence as the eyes found the shiny box again, held aloft in the the hands.

"One of these days, when you least expect it, (even if you did expect it, you'd most likely forget it) I will trip you down, aiming for your shiny toy. And mark my words, that toy will not wake to see the world again." said Left, in an unnerving Corleone style.

Splashed, soaped, and dried, the feet settled themselves in their rooms for the day, trying to block out the chill that leaked inside through the windows. "These damned holes", thought the feet as they pushed themselves against those tiny opening in the walls.

"Hey! I can see you wearing grey today. Again!" said a voice, followed by a cackling laughter of other voices which could only belong to other feet. The wind carried it around to lure the gaze of the feet in vicinity towards the mutual plight of Left and Right. While one feigned indifference, the other found it impossible to stay mum.

"You know grey, it matches everything." said Right. 'Even the hole through which I am looking out of.' she thought.

"Pretty convenient, isn't it? You two must have such easy mornings." Right smiled in reply while Left thought it better to let silence be his reply.

"When are you planning to fix those cracks in your walls?" Another voice pitched in, in a tone otherwise used to enquire the status of weather or ear infection, and everything of equally limited concern.

"Windows", corrected Left. "I don't know about you, but I think it's a brilliant idea to have windows. I can look outside and breathe in the fresh air whenever I want to. No need to fix something that isn't broken, right?" He ended his little speech with a smile as original and honest as that of Littefinger.

The voices laughed and agreed, and started talking about the new kind of house that was up for sale. One talked about cushioned flooring and walls, while two others debated over the aesthetic and pragmatic importance of laces ("It ties the whole house together. Literally. How can you not include it?" "It also trips you, and aims straight for the hands and the head. Plus, it's clumsy and never in shape." "Oh, but it's so dangerously pretty!")

Later that night, as Left snuggled close to Right, he found her lost in thought. "What's bothering you?" he asked. "Those damned holes!" said Right, in a voice that was at once annoyed and exhausted. "Oh. The windows." and Left let out a loud guffaw which he couldn't have stifled even if he wanted to.

"Those aren't windows. They are holes!" Right poked him right at the center of the paw. "Our homes are broken. We need to do something before we freeze to death."

That  night, the feet sent a distress signal to the brain. As per the request, a fresh dream was prepared and aired live as soon as the human entered the deep sleep state. The brain was only too happy to indulge the disgruntled feet. "I love designing dreams!" she had said. "Keeps my gears oiled and my neurons sparked."

The human slept like an obedient prey and did not feel a thing when the dream schedule was disrupted to make a swift addition. She found herself sitting on a beach facing a setting sun and feeling the tide gradually coming in. "Shit! My bum's wet" she said out loud and then laughed at the inappropriate use of language and the inherent innuendos.

As she gazed into the water lapping at her feet, she thought how refreshing it was to have warm water brushing against her cold legs. 'The feet', she thought, 'they would be loving this.' It took her time to notice that she no longer had any.

As panic directed her eyes over the endless coastline, she saw, at a distance, two creatures walking side by side. Hopping, rather. She couldn't say how, but felt sure that the two creatures were her own two feet who had abandoned her and run away. As the feet and the beach faded into black, she could remember only the panic, and two words - 'holes' and 'windows'.

The brain smiled with pride at her handiwork when the human woke up the next morning as the same disoriented self she was the night before. "Get ready for phase 2." said the brain, pressing play. For the remaining day, three words replayed in an inifnite loop.

Need New Shoes.

I bought new shoes today. Those feet! Always so dramatic about everything. 
Got an interesting feet tale to share? 


  1. That's a relief. It's never good when parts of the body start plotting against you.

    You got a pair of new shoes and a great story out of it.

  2. Well, the body has a mind of its own. Glad to know you enjoyed the story. :)


Unless my thoughts fickle turned your brain into pickle, I'd love to hear if my words found your funny bone to tickle.

Or sparked a chain of thoughts. Even if they did not, do stop by and say "Hi!". That would mean a lot.