<p>I just could not tie my shoelaces as a child. I struggled with the technique which to some came automatically. For me, it was all uphill. I could not proceed beyond the first knot. The laces would lie there on each side of the shoe, while I helplessly looked at them, almost wishing they had the superpowers to understand my predicament and magically ‘bow’ tie themselves. </p>.<p>And because of this battle with the laces, class time-tables with Physical Training in the late afternoon, struck terror in my heart. </p>.<p>But most of the time fate favoured me. I was blessed with teachers who were indulgent to us wearing keds to school on PT day. All dressed up, I would wait quietly for my mother to tie the knot. It was a practised ritual. “How will you get by, Hema?”, she would exclaim exasperated. “You are there, Amma”.</p>.<p>But one academic year the tide turned. The rules demanded that one had to change for PT and one couldn’t arrive wearing sneakers to school. Stiff upper lip with total internal panic was my first response. But that did not fool my mother dear.</p>.<p>Seeing her progeny’s utter helplessness at this ‘timetable googly’ my wise mother sat me down with a knot tying tutorial. “Balloons”, she explained patiently. “Make two balloons with each end of the shoelace. Now lay them over and pull one under the other. And hey presto! You have your knot!”. I stared at this solution with a warm feeling of hope. It did not sound tough at all. As usual, my mother had come to my rescue. In my head, I was already practicing the ‘balloon knot’. Trying the technique, I was amazed that it actually worked. I was empowered. And armed with this natural logic I sailed forth in life.</p>.<p>To this day, as I prepare for my walks, the memories of my tryst with knots comes alive and smiling to myself, I tie the laces with the ‘balloons’ logic.</p>.<p>And I make it a point to make a note of all the knots I find folks around me tying – while gift wrapping, or tying their laces and even the ‘parcels’ from the local darshini. You will be surprised at the number of balloons you find along the way.</p>.<p>Many years later, I smiled gleefully when I saw my husband visibly struggle while tying our ‘thaali’ knot in Guruvayur. “Try balloons”! I whispered, in his ear.</p>
<p>I just could not tie my shoelaces as a child. I struggled with the technique which to some came automatically. For me, it was all uphill. I could not proceed beyond the first knot. The laces would lie there on each side of the shoe, while I helplessly looked at them, almost wishing they had the superpowers to understand my predicament and magically ‘bow’ tie themselves. </p>.<p>And because of this battle with the laces, class time-tables with Physical Training in the late afternoon, struck terror in my heart. </p>.<p>But most of the time fate favoured me. I was blessed with teachers who were indulgent to us wearing keds to school on PT day. All dressed up, I would wait quietly for my mother to tie the knot. It was a practised ritual. “How will you get by, Hema?”, she would exclaim exasperated. “You are there, Amma”.</p>.<p>But one academic year the tide turned. The rules demanded that one had to change for PT and one couldn’t arrive wearing sneakers to school. Stiff upper lip with total internal panic was my first response. But that did not fool my mother dear.</p>.<p>Seeing her progeny’s utter helplessness at this ‘timetable googly’ my wise mother sat me down with a knot tying tutorial. “Balloons”, she explained patiently. “Make two balloons with each end of the shoelace. Now lay them over and pull one under the other. And hey presto! You have your knot!”. I stared at this solution with a warm feeling of hope. It did not sound tough at all. As usual, my mother had come to my rescue. In my head, I was already practicing the ‘balloon knot’. Trying the technique, I was amazed that it actually worked. I was empowered. And armed with this natural logic I sailed forth in life.</p>.<p>To this day, as I prepare for my walks, the memories of my tryst with knots comes alive and smiling to myself, I tie the laces with the ‘balloons’ logic.</p>.<p>And I make it a point to make a note of all the knots I find folks around me tying – while gift wrapping, or tying their laces and even the ‘parcels’ from the local darshini. You will be surprised at the number of balloons you find along the way.</p>.<p>Many years later, I smiled gleefully when I saw my husband visibly struggle while tying our ‘thaali’ knot in Guruvayur. “Try balloons”! I whispered, in his ear.</p>