Have you ever been robbed off? Robbed off something you like dearly? Something that makes a perfect pair with its better half?
I’m not waiting for you to answer. Coz Im sad enough and ready to narrate my story of loss. You are allowed permission to sympathise with me. Sympathies accepted for… for… the robbery of … of …A CHAPPAL! Yes, its not an error. I know my grammar well. You read right. I was robbed off ONE chappal on our very own local trains. Read on to find out how!
It’s no nayi baat that lakhs of nameless, expressionless faces take the Bombay local to go places. One of those documentary days Joss-naa, Nad-loo and I took a train from Grant Road to Churchgate. A matter of three stations. By the way, a lot can happen over three stations. (sowwie this is lifted and modified Café Coffee Day tagline). Haan, lets go on.
Afternoon trains have few scattered commuters. The moment I hopped onto the train, I took my Blue Oshos and put my feet on the seat. (Strictly not recommended, firstly, it’s unlawful and most importantly dangerous). My two friends got busy checking stuff, typically girly things, earrings, fancy clips, the works! Their chatter with the vendor girls faded as I got busy over the phone. Seven minutes passed and it was time to get off. I, mechanically put my feet down to get ready to get down… Ehhh ??? My feet, for the very first time, felt the pricks of the rough train floor! Where the Eff were my Oshos?
I thought it was some sick prank Joss-naa was playing on me. But how could she multitask so well and flick my CHAPPALS and at the same time go through all that girly shit she was going through! I looked around. And so did Nad-loo and Joss-naa. The train looked haunted for a while! Few seconds into the search, one of the vendor girls threw one of my Oshos at me. Wow! Now how did she get the damn thing? By now I had attracted enough unnecessary attention of amused co-commuters. They all felt I was outta my brains and one woman even asked if I wore BOTH the chappals when I left home! Duhh!!! Amusement turned into sympathy in less than a few seconds!
Frantic search for the lost CHAPPAL was like a mission I had given Joss n Nad and some commuters had volunteered for. Minutes passed. But there was no trace of the ‘lost’ chappal.
It was time for the train to leave for its destination, yet again. Before I could sit and cry and embarrass my dost log, they volunteered to go buy me a new pair. Interviews are not always conducted with half a chappal, especially an interview that was fixed after much gidd giddaaing before the Railways authorities.
Hopping on one leg, I got off the train. Nad-loo maintained all the while that the vendor girls were trying to act smart by hiding my chappal. She even said its their plan to take the chappals once I leave the other one also in the train.
Believing Nad was easy. You tend to believe a blondie in such trying times, a blondie who talks sense lesser than Mallika Sherawat’s clothes!
A badley ki bhaavna rakhnewali chudayl that I am… I decided, if the chappal cannot be mine forever it cannot be anyone else’s!
I stood on one leg, laughing and giggling alone as Joss n Nad ran to save themselves of cheap publicity me and my robbed chappal was about to give them. Unable to control myself, I laughed out loud at times I felt there were not many people watching me. One lady kept staring at me. Her eyes shouted, “Poor thing, bhari jawani mein paagal ho gayi.”
Those 25 minutes were killing and hilarious at the same time. Wanted to call someone and talk, at least less people would think I had lost my brains bhari jawani mein. What the hell! All phones bloody unavailable on the damn day! My laughter mixed with prayers that I get a new pair in the least of seconds were stirring a cocktail of the weirdest flavour inside of me.
And the time came. Ahhh! Finally! Joss and Nad got me a new pair of chappals that replaced my beautiful Blue Oshos L.
Yes, my dear friends this is my story of the robbed CHAPPAL!
Some questions about the incident still remain unanswered.
What would the robber do with ONE chappal (now that I had not left the other as the saala/saali chor/chorni expected)?
Why meeeee and my ‘beautiful Blue Oshos’????
Did I teach the robber a lesson by not leaving the other pair?
Was the whole chori a part of an organised crime network?
Do these girls selling stuff do such choris often to mentally and physically harass commuters wearing ‘beautiful Blue Oshos’?
Was it to teach me a lesson not to keep my feet on the seat henceforth?
Whatever the answers (I’m not expecting any), the chori will always remind me of loss, loss of something I liked dearly. An experience not the whole of humanity has!
Moral of the story: Do not keep your feet on the train seat (with or without footwear). With footwear you might end up dirtying your own butt (or at least someone else’s). Without footwear you might end up being another Blessy!
