Reading a news item this morning titled ‘Youth, distressed over losing footwear, dials emergency number’ and its contents, my memory went amok and my own experience in losing footwears came crowding to my mind. Since there is lot of fun and human element, I thought I could share it with my readers.

While ruminating on this, I also thought of our Congress Chief Minister Siddharamaiah, who gave the people of Karnataka, his voters, five guarantees namely 1. Gruha Jyothi. 2 Gruha Lakshmi. 3. Shakthi. 4. Anna Bhagya and 5. Yuva Nidhi and one more guarantee to Gandhi Dynasty of bringing Congress to power. Of course, he easily succeeded in delivering the promise to the Gandhi Dynasty, but he seems to be straining himself to deliver the promise made to the Karnataka voters, though the implementation exercise is underway. I am sure, knowing Siddharamaiah for the last 40 years, he would succeed.

The reason for bringing in Siddharamaiah here is the news item I mentioned above where a person, who had attended a function leaving his footwear outside and returned to find it missing. As a result he had to give a Police complaint.

Looking at the way many people lose their footwear in this manner and many poor people are going barefoot even in this 21st century and 75 years after independence, I was wondering why Siddharamaiah could not think of this barefoot walkers and bless them with one more guarantee of free footwear along with other five guarantees he has promised.

The report says, a youngster, the complainant in this case, had gone to a programme in Balam Bhat Hall in Mangaluru leaving his footwear outside as per the custom. However, when he returned after the function he found his footwear missing. Angry and distressed on finding his footwear stolen, he immediately dialled 112, the Emergency Response Support System (ERSS-112) and sought the assistance of the Police, either to trace his footwear or to catch the culprit.

Duty-bound Police responded, examined the CCTV footage. What did they find? They found that a humble barefooted labourer, engaged in some work in the hall, walking away wearing the young complainant’s chappals.

However, the youth in his kindness to the underprivileged barefooted labourer, refused to lodge a complaint and the youth apparently must have walked away barefoot for a change with a feeling of helping someone deserving and hoping that after his time in this mundane world a place is reserved for him in heaven!

Having said this, I must recall my own experience in losing my footwears. In one case, it was followed by a drama of sorts. I had purchased an expensive flex leather shoes and had come to office wearing it with a sense of satisfaction and even pride to flaunt it at an evening party. Around noon, I got a telephone call from a soothsayer-cum-spiritual person, whom I knew while in                                                     Mysuru and who had just returned from his foreign jaunt, asking me if I could see him later in the day.

Since I had no time in the evening, I asked if I could see him immediately. Saying that there were people already to see him, as if to make me feel obliged, he said yes. Immediately, I went to see him in his hotel room at Yadavagiri. I thought there would be a queue but there were only two guys, apparently his local devotees or followers to receive me and guide me into the room. Sheepishly one of them requested me to remove my shoes and leave it at the door outside. I removed the shoes without fuss and went into the room. I was there for nearly half-an-hour recalling some of our earlier meetings in Mysuru and my encounter with him in London where indeed there was a very long queue to see him and I had written about it  in this column.

Later, I took leave of him, he accompanied me to the door and what do I find? My shoes were not there.

I was anxious. Swamiji was surprised and felt a tad uncomfortable and asked the disciples at the door to check with the floor supervisors and returned to his room closing the door behind. A couple of security guards came running and finding me agitated, assured that it would be traced and sent to my office. I was not satisfied. I said I would wait at the reception till they trace my shoes.

Half-an-hour passed, no information. Since I knew the managing partner of the hotel, I spoke to him on telephone and said without mincing words that if the shoes are not traced by 5 O’ clock, I would give a complaint to the Police and I also impressed upon him the implications of such a complaint in an intimidating manner.

Being a very affable person and having much regards to me, he assured that he would reach the shoes to my office and I might leave the hotel for now. Believe it or not, the shoes arrived in my office well and properly wrapped in a piece of white cloth by 4 O’ clock. I called the managing partner, thanked him and asked how he could play the role of Sherlock Holmes. That was another story.

In another incident, I had purchased an expensive sandals, those days costing about Rs. 5,000 with fur on leather straps. Wearing this sandals, I had gone to attend a public discourse by a Swamiji and was sitting comfortably in the second row. After the discourse, some selected persons were invited to seek Swamiji’s blessings on the stage and my name was also called to my utter discomfiture. I had no escape. I loosened the straps of the sandals and went to the stage. I was there hardly for five minutes with the Swamiji talking to me and honouring me. When I got down from the stage and looked for my sandals, it was not there. I thought Swamiji’s miracle would enable me soon to find my sandals.

The thought of calling the Police, like the Mangaluru youth mentioned above, naturally did not occur to me nor would it be correct. For once, I walked to the car barefoot and then drove straight to the same shop where I had  bought the sandals.

Moral: If you want to visit a place where you are asked to remove your footwears, make sure you go there wearing an old worn out footwear which if stolen you will not regret and rather say to yourself, ‘good riddance of bad rubbish.’

Last word: Wonder why in my case, on both occasions, I lost my footwears under the benign presence of Swamijis!!

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