Filter Coffee #084

On Walking On The Street

Dear Readers,

FC #83 on IF got a warm response. I was really flattered by what Ashvini Ranjan said: “Well written and well related to everyday life and circumstance. If only Rudyard Kipling were to be alive, he would have liked reading FC 83.”

Tarun Kunzru says: “You cannot control circumstances, but you can definitely control how you react to them.”

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🚶🏽Walking On The Street:

In response to FC #83, my brother, Radhakrishna, narrated an episode that took place a few years ago. He says: “I was walking with my wife. I saw a man dragging a woman on the road even as she was pleading with him to leave her alone. I asked the man to be considerate and stop harassing the woman. Much to my surprise, the woman got up and told me, ‘He is my son and this is a matter between us. Why don’t you mind your business?’” My brother was stumped!

That made me think about the things that we encounter when we walk on the road. We can either take interest in what is happening around us or turn a blind eye. If a fight breaks out on the street, we might prefer not to get involved. If there is an accident, some would rush to the aid of the victim and some would shy away from that basic civic duty. Some fear that they will have to make trips to the police station, and the court as well, as witnesses. The joy of walking is diminishing.

I go back in time and recall the pleasure of walking that we had in the 60s. Then, there were not too many people jostling for space on the pavement (we called it footpath in those days, the English referred to it as pavement, and the Americans called it sidewalk) and everyone went about doing their own thing but never hesitated to run to the rescue of anyone in trouble.

We walked to school and later to college too. We had classmates for company, and we enjoyed looking at what was happening around us. In fact, a friend, whose father could afford to buy him a cycle, walked with us pushing the cycle along, not wanting to miss the fun of walking and talking. In those days, we were unaware that a phrase like ‘walk the talk’ existed, and so all of our talks were lighthearted and sometimes quite flippant. We knew all the shops and houses of people and the vendors that dotted all along the footpath.

We heard people screaming at each other or talking to each other, and saw kids squatting near the drain doing you know what! If someone walked up to us and asked for directions to someone’s house, we would unfailingly give the correct ones. In contrast, today if you ask for directions from someone on the street, walking with head bent and eyes glued to the cell phone, they might scowl and say, ‘I don’t know. Put the GPS or ask the watchman of that building.’ It is true that we no longer pay much attention to registering in our mind what is around us. But, occasionally, you do come across an odd person who is willing to help with directions in the typical Bangalore style. He might say “Saar, go straight, take left and take right at the dead-end”. If you are new to Bangalore, you would wonder how there can be a right turn at the dead-end! But you will soon learn that the ‘dead end’ is actually a T-junction.

Well, going back to our walking days, on many days we would see our female classmates walking ahead of us clutching their books to their chest (no backpacks those days). We would challenge one among us to walk up to the girls and chat with them and carry on small talk. There have been occasions when one of us took up the challenge but beat a hasty retreat when one of the girls looked back and whispered something to the other girls, and they all giggled. The guy retreating was treated to all kinds of jibes. These little thrills made our walk so enjoyable. 

Some of us walked barefooted, as footwear was unaffordable to some in those days, and keeping an eye on the footpath was unavoidable considering that besides the kids, the cows and horses also would have left their ‘mark’. If by some chance one of stepped on the ‘mark’ there would be riotous laughter and the ‘marked one’ would hobble to the nearest public tap to clean up.

The most common footwear at the time was ‘Hawaii Chappals’. Honestly, none of us knew then that Hawaii was an exotic and volcanic landscape; much less did we know that these chappals had anything to do with Hawaii. It was just a base of rubber and a strap that went over the arch of the foot, with a button like an anchor at the big toe. Quite often the anchor would come off, and we had to push it back through the hole. After some days of use, the anchor would just break, making the chappal useless unless you were willing to buy a spare strap if the rubber base had more life left in it. 

The worst thing about these chappals was that during the rainy season they would go flap, flap and splatter the back of your pyjamas (we were not into pants yet) with muddy slush. We had to get home and wash it ourselves and hang it out to dry before wearing it again.

In those days, if you went to a temple or to any other place of worship where you were required to leave the chappals outside, you would consciously and unabashedly pray that your chappals were still there when you got out. The newer they looked, the greater was the possibility that they would be gone. Many developed the habit of standing on the footpath, taking off the chappal and keeping it within eyesight and praying to God from outside. As you prayed, if you closed your eyes for a bit longer, it was likely that the chappals would have been stolen right from under your nose.

In wedding halls, chappal switches happened rather too frequently. To make matters worse, for a long time, these chappals had the same blue strap, and even you would find it difficult to identify your own pair. Some would try to put a mark, but it did not help. Some would surreptitiously put the chappals in a carry bag and hang on to it, rather than leave it outside and risk losing it. 

I remember going to a wedding and as I was waiting outside for someone, a lady and her young daughter came out and while the lady managed to find her chappals (at least she thought so) the girl was unable to find her pair and after some time the mother gave her the sage advice to find something that fits her and the girl did as she was told. 

Stepping on one’s toes is a common expression. But as far as Hawaii Chappals were concerned, the thing you dreaded was someone stepping on your heels. Yes, when that happened the strap would snap, and you would in turn snap at the guy who stepped on the heel of your chappal. He, too, would snap at you and leave you holding that chappal. Of course, the quick fix solution (which we call today as jugaad) was to find a safety pin and push it through the anchor button below the big toe and carry on walking until you found a place where you could change the strap. Yes, you may not believe, straps were available as spares for Hawaii Chappals, and they cost a bomb those days, Two Rupees! (the chappal cost Six Rupees).

Like charity began at home, chappal switch also happened rather frequently at home. Worse still, it was unisex footwear those days. If you were a size 8 and above, you had a reduced chance of a switch. But sizes 6 & 7 bore the brunt of the switch. The fact that all of us had to leave our footwear in one place made such mix-ups commonplace.

The other common occurrence those days was when you board a bus or train. As the train arrives at the platform with just a two-minute halt for people to get off and on, you muscle your way through and scramble up into the compartment, only to realise that one of your Hawaii chappals is still on the platform as if it is not keen to travel with you. You are at the end of your tether by now and decide to throw the other chappal out of the moving train in the hope that some barefooted guy would find them and thank the good soul for giving him sole-satisfaction.

There are people who keep their footwear near their pillow while sleeping on the berth in a train. Some trust the co-passengers and leave them under the lower berth. A guy woke up to find his Hawaii chappals missing, and so was the man who was sleeping on the opposite berth. Just when the guy was contemplating pulling the chain he realised that the chappal had cost about Rs.50 but the penalty for pulling the chain was Rs.250. As he cursed his luck, the suspect returned and eased out of the chappals in question and in an apologetic tone said, “Sorry I borrowed your chappal to go to the bathroom. I was too lazy to put on my shoes.” The owner of the chappal silently cursed the guy for converting his walk-wear into bathroom slippers.

Speaking of bathroom slippers, Hawaii chappals are now quite commonly used for that purpose. Of late these chappals have also earned some respectability in the sense that in a hotel if you are going for breakfast or to the swimming pool, nobody would bother if you wore these chappals. Remember the episode involving the renowned artist M F Hussain? He always walked barefooted and was denied entry to the famous Willingdon Club in Mumbai for not wearing proper footwear. Some thought he was not above club regulations, but others thought not wearing any footwear did not violate the proper footwear rule. For them, MFH was a good soul and if he wished to bare his sole, there was nothing wrong in it.

Chappals were also at times used to teach an eve-teaser a lesson. You must have come across the one liner ‘jhoote jhoote pe likha hai khane wale ka naam’.

I just thought of a PJ- 
Q:What would it be if a guy is hit with a chappal 56 times?
A: Chappal Bhog .

By the way, in the 1957 hit film “Baarish” the song “dane dane pe…” features Dev Anand. You can watch it below.

In December 2019, I went to Hawaii for the first time and saw people wearing bright floral shirts and equally colourful chappals. Those chappals were a far cry from what we wore back in the 60s. I was determined not to buy those chappals for fear of erasing from my memory the chappals that we bought from Bata after much pleading and begging to my mother who, for as long as I can remember, walked barefoot just as my father did after he sort of relinquished grihasthashram. 

Walking barefoot was about having your feet firmly on the ground. The calloused soles helped you appreciate the ground realities, and you counted your blessings for being able to walk on your bare feet when you saw a man with no feet.

Aloha! Stay safe, mask up, and see you next week! 

Footnote: Please share with me any interesting experiences you have had with your footwear.