<p class="bodytext">By the time I discovered that I had lost my chappals, it was too late. Someone had ‘lifted’ them from the marriage hall. It was not exactly a loss for me but more of a swap since, in exchange, I got a pair of second-hand shoes! They didn’t exactly fit me, but what could I do? I had no choice but to hobble my way home.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Such incidents are quite common in large social gatherings, where chappals of similar make and size abound. They have a yen to roam free when removed from their owners’ bonds. Shoes and chappals become footloose and rove like vagabonds. But their ‘good time’ is short-lived and comes to an end when the party gets over, and it’s time to go home. People start looking frantically for their truant footwear, and panic ensues. How embarrassing it is to walk home barefoot! Then there are the awkward questions posed by the wife and the children: Can’t you take care of a pair of shoes?</p>.<p class="bodytext">This was particularly common for the devout who visited temples often. Missing or exchanged chappals were a commonplace. Fortunately, this does not happen in most temples anymore. Temple managements have learned their lesson, and footwear is now monitored. Chappals are tagged systematically at the time of deposit, ensuring that they return to their rightful owners, in pairs, when they exit.</p>.<p class="bodytext">When chappals are lost or exchanged in the hustle and bustle of a function, it is a loss for the owner. But in reality, the chappals simply change hands—sorry, feet.</p>.<p class="bodytext">They continue to serve their new master if found to be in good shape, and nothing is lost. A real crisis looms when the pair of footwear is separated, and one is left holding only the <br />left shoe. What to do with a single chappal? It cannot be used, nor can it be thrown away.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Not everyone is a gentle, selfless soul like Mahatma Gandhi. When one of his chappals fell down on the platform as he was getting on a train, he promptly sent the other one flying to join its partner. “Of what use to me is a single shoe?” he told an inquisitive fellow passenger. “Let someone else have both and put them to good use.”</p>
<p class="bodytext">By the time I discovered that I had lost my chappals, it was too late. Someone had ‘lifted’ them from the marriage hall. It was not exactly a loss for me but more of a swap since, in exchange, I got a pair of second-hand shoes! They didn’t exactly fit me, but what could I do? I had no choice but to hobble my way home.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Such incidents are quite common in large social gatherings, where chappals of similar make and size abound. They have a yen to roam free when removed from their owners’ bonds. Shoes and chappals become footloose and rove like vagabonds. But their ‘good time’ is short-lived and comes to an end when the party gets over, and it’s time to go home. People start looking frantically for their truant footwear, and panic ensues. How embarrassing it is to walk home barefoot! Then there are the awkward questions posed by the wife and the children: Can’t you take care of a pair of shoes?</p>.<p class="bodytext">This was particularly common for the devout who visited temples often. Missing or exchanged chappals were a commonplace. Fortunately, this does not happen in most temples anymore. Temple managements have learned their lesson, and footwear is now monitored. Chappals are tagged systematically at the time of deposit, ensuring that they return to their rightful owners, in pairs, when they exit.</p>.<p class="bodytext">When chappals are lost or exchanged in the hustle and bustle of a function, it is a loss for the owner. But in reality, the chappals simply change hands—sorry, feet.</p>.<p class="bodytext">They continue to serve their new master if found to be in good shape, and nothing is lost. A real crisis looms when the pair of footwear is separated, and one is left holding only the <br />left shoe. What to do with a single chappal? It cannot be used, nor can it be thrown away.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Not everyone is a gentle, selfless soul like Mahatma Gandhi. When one of his chappals fell down on the platform as he was getting on a train, he promptly sent the other one flying to join its partner. “Of what use to me is a single shoe?” he told an inquisitive fellow passenger. “Let someone else have both and put them to good use.”</p>