The Black Chappals

Watching the trickling raindrops make patterns in the vaporized window pane, I took another sip of the hot coffee from my ceramic mug. I had pulled my writing couch closer to the window so that the endearing sight of rain could inspire me to churn out some classic quotes for my story.

I was finally going to chase my dreams, be the writer that I always wanted to be; not some lame content writer for a gossip website. I didn’t realize when the course of thoughts merged into star gazing and soon I was signing autographs for my new bestseller. The pleasantness of that dream was succeeded by the same lamenting thought. As it turned out, the mediocrity of my writing seasoned by all that filthy write ups was not to be conquered easily.

Frustrated I looked around my small apartment, for inspiration, for ideas, for imagination, for reactions. But the only reaction that took me over was that I had a useless maid (when I noticed that my dishes were still not done). And talking about Geetha Ma, my maid, she had been absconding for the past three days, while I was juggling between being a clambering writer and a part time cleaner. Apparently after she left last Friday, my favorite black kolhapuri chappals went missing. I have been trying to locate them, but they simply disappeared along with her. I wasn’t sure if it was my assumption or certainty but I knew she had stolen them and had vanished after that. I even complained to my landlord about her.

Usually I was not so fussy about any of my stuff, but those chappals were different. They were from my ex, and even though we had broken up six months back, and I hated his guts, the chappals still meant a lot. Those black crystal studded kolhapuri chappals were his first gift to me and I still cherish them. Yeah women can be weirdly sentimental, but I was shamelessly in love with those chappals and they were one of the few bright spots in my helpless celibacy. Anyone casting an evil eye on them would be suitably penalized.

So there I was - an aspiring writer, devoid of a boyfriend and a maid, two of the most important prerequisites of an urban life. The noisy parrot ringtone of my calling bell shook me out of my frustration, not to any relief though. I rushed to the door and guess WHO was standing there? Geetha Ma, flashing her dry-cleaned teeth at me! The woman of the moment, my savior from domestic mess.

“Where the hell have you been?” I asked ignoring her grin.

“I went to my native”.

“Okay fine, now get to work” I was still reluctant to confront her about my chappals.

She started by sweeping the floor, but the stinking sink was driving me crazy, so I asked her to clean the dishes first.

“I told you aunty, I don’t’ do dishes” (yes! apparently she called me aunty) “I have even told your landlord that I don’t do dishes”

“That is not my f**ing problem.” I didn’t know what came over me, but I screamed my lungs out. A huge argument broke out between her and me, propelling my landlord to come down and intervene. Seeing him, I realized that there won’t be any better opportunity to bring up the topic of my lost chappals.

“Did you know ever since she disappeared, so have my chappals. She stole them from me.”

“What chappals? She asked “I did not steal any chappals”, she looked at my landlord for back up.

“You! You stole my chappals and vanished for three days, so that I would forget about my chappals. I know you stole them. So bring them back to me.”

She looked at my landlord with her last ounce of feigned dignity and said “I did not steal anything”

The poor chap was already petrified, being entangled in a fight between two noisy women. He tried to calm me and said that he’ll talk to her later and get me my chappals if she did infact steal them. Meanwhile I should allow her to carry on with her work. I told him that she wouldn’t do the dishes. The landlord looked at her, a question in his eyes.

“I don’t do dishes”, she said, with her pride intact, making my blood boil.

“You will f***ing do whatever I the f*** I say. I don’t care whether you do dishes or not, in my house you will. You have some nerve, stealing my chappals, absconding from work and now giving me this back talk.”

In old Sparta, arguments were won by the one who could scream the loudest. Needless to say, they both were too startled to speak after my outburst and like the Spartan citizen my victory was definite. Geetha Ma starred at my landlord with fiery eyes, but he just signaled her to get back to work and left.

She looked at me and told for one last time and said, “I did not steal your chappals.”

We all got back to our respective work, but I kept looking at Geetha ma from the corner of my eye. Tears trickled down her eyes resembling the raindrops in my window. She swallowed her humiliation, wiped her nose with the end of her saree and started doing the dishes. The atmosphere turned chilly with the coldness between us and I was not sure which was more shivery- the dismal drizzle through my window or the silent drops of angered frustration that poured down her cheeks.

No matter how hard I tried, the writer’s soul inside me awoke and I couldn’t stop thinking. What if she hated doing dishes just like I hated writing gossip? What if she liked to just sit down sometimes, doing nothing but watching raindrops? What if she too wanted a life of her choice just like I did? I kept pondering when I felt a hand near my feet. So the dishes were done, Geetha Ma was mopping the floor. I curled my feet up to my couch so that she could clean the bottom of it. She reached her hand inside the couch to mop beneath the couch, part of her cleaning routine. But, suddenly she pulled out something from there that made my jaw drop, The Black Kolhapuris! Good Lord, they were there underneath me all this while. They must have got stuck when I pulled the couch towards the window.

My cheeks flushed like a newly wed bride, as I starred at the chappals. A thorny envelope of awkwardness pricked me in every part of my being, I was mortified. All I wanted to do was dig a huge hole and bury myself in it.

“Are these your chappals?”she asked

“Yes” I replied, avoiding any eye contact with her “Put them in the shoe rack”.

She did as she was told, quietly finished the rest of her chores and left.I starred behind her.