Naked Feet: A Short Story by Pathik Parmar

 

In the evening on his way home from the office Dhana’s  sandals betrayed him. Dhana looked at them in disgust. The bands of both had snapped.  The  loops were already broken, and there was nothing much left of the heels.

Dhana felt a rage rising in him rage at the his own wretchedness. The pedestrians who passed him on the road glanced alternately at his feet and his face. Dhana could not help feeling that they were subjecting him to a thorough observation, some of them were bold enough to grin  at him. Dhana was incensed but suppressing his fury and sense of desperation, he managed to maintain nonchalant countenance. 

Dhana flung the sandals into the garbage can at the corner and hurried home. He was lucky the mishap occurred not far from his house. He shuddered at the thought of it happening at the market in the midst of the evening crowd .

The ascetic nonchalance he had tried to maintain on the road broke down as he reached home. The disconsolate expression was back on his face as he crossed the verandah. Dhana’s mother was sifting ‘ration rice’, her little grandson seated in her lap. She turned to look at him and announced his arrival as she did everyday, “Ah, my son has come!”  

“ Yes Ba I have come .” Dhana muttered as he went in and handed the bag of vegetables to his wife. His wife was surprised at the look on this face.

 “What happened ? you look so exhausted. You were quite all right in the morning. I hope  nothing …” 

 “Just feeling a bit too worked out”, he replied shortly and started unbuttoning his coat. Hanging  the coat on the peg on the wall, he went out into the verandah and stretched himself on the cot. A light puff of cool breeze comforted him.

Dhana’s elder son back from school came in. He threw his school bag on the floor, ran into the kitchen and started crying.

“ Ba, I am  not going to school tomorrow I can’t wear  these rags any more. Everybody is making fun of me.”

 “Never mind son. Tomorrow your father will get his salary. He’ll buy you a new set of clothes”, his mother comforted him.

“ Ba, my sandals are worn out too. If I go to school without wearing sandals, they will call me ‘ Mr. Barefoot.” 

Dhana lying on the cot in the verandah could hear what was going on in the kitchen. At the word ,’ barefoot’, a tremor went through him.

Dhana shut his eyes tightly. A hazy picture of sandals shimmered in his mind, Sandals sandals sandals all around…. a mountain of sandals soon he was sucked into the whirlpool of disquieting thoughts.

How carefully he had maintained his sandals! How painful it was to throw them away as he had done! How delighted he had been when he bought them at a throw away price a year and a half ago! He   had thought that they would last for not less than two years. True they had lasted as much as a year and a half. But he had near imagined that he would have to throw them away on the road. If they had not been past mending, he would not have flung them into the garbage can. He had not been ashamed of patching them up, stitch after stitch. 

Now he could not cough up the money to buy a new pair. It was no less than a miracle that his family of six members his wife three children his mother and himself could live on his salary of a mere two hundred rupees. What more could peon expect? Dhana cursed his fate.

 “ Bapuji , come, supper is ready “; his son called him in for supper. Dhana was jerked out of his thoughts he got up with the feeling that he had been walking in his sleep as he sat down to eat, he made an unsuccessful attempt to conceal his thoughts behind an inscrutable expression.. But he could not swallow more than a couple of mouthfuls he go to up abruptly and his mother and his wife tried to read the  strange expression on his face he went out into the verandah spread a mattress on the cot and lay down. 

He was again sucked into the whirlpool of disturbing thoughts. Like a still pond in which a stone had fallen, his mind felt the waves of agitation rising and dispersing poverty inflation ill health the pittance of a salary… He turned and tossed all through the night. All his attempts at snatching some sleep failed.  

The sun  climbed up the eastern sky. When the shadow of the building touched the foot of the limbdo tree in the street it was time for Dhana to leave for his office. He was ready but the absence of the sandals on his feet tormented him. He was not in a position to take a day’s leave. What was wrong in going to the office bare foot for a day? He reflected for a second. He was going to get his salary in the evening anyway. He could then buy a new pair of sandals.

He walked hurriedly as if he had some urgent business to attend to. Noticing his unseal haste some urchins on  the road laughed. He did not bother to look at them. He stopped in front of the garbage can for  a moment. The workers of the municipality were emptying the garbage can into a hand cart. Dhana saw one of them picking up his sandals and throwing them into the cart while another tossed a shovelful of garbage over it. Dhana shuddered. The fate of his sandals!

Dhana resumed walking with his face downcast. The pebbles on the mud road pricked his  heels it was as if he had never walked the thorny paths of the earth he had the feeling that the  acquaintances who passed him on the road were all glancing furtively at his naked feet- the measure of his wretchedness!

 “Saheb, give me a paise, Bhagwan will bless you” a beggar on the footpath cried, extending his open hand towards Dhana.

Dhana cast a quick glance at the beggar’s feet, they were clad in sandals. How wretched I am Dhana muttered to himself. 

Some of his friends nodded and smile at him as they passed. He did not return the greetings for he felt they were amused by the sight of his naked feet. When he reached the office his feet were covered with mud. There was a stinging pain on the heels he went to the toilet and washed his feet coming back to the office he sat on a stool and heaved a sigh of relief.

Tak, tak, tak … The tap of boots on the floor startled Dhana. Ramdev Singh, the newly appointed peon came in.

 “ Ah, Ramdev Singh , I see you ‘ve got new boots.  How much did you pay for them? Dhana heard another peon asking  Ramdev Singh.

“ Fifty five”

Dhana was dumb founded a peon earning only a hundred and fifty rupees a month  comes to the office decked in boots worth fifty five rupees; and here he was, earning a net two hundred a month walking around bare foot! Did he deserve to be called a salaried employee? 

The clerks and officers came in and took their seats. They sent Dhana on various errands -fetching water and tea bringing files to the desk and taking them away when the day’s work came to an end in the evening. Dhana was dead tired.

The alacrity and enthusiasm of the employees had evaporated completely. With drained faces as they descended the steps from the portico into the street. Dhana learned that he would not be getting his salary for another couple of days and it flung him into a fit of depression. How long will they run this racket? When the sahebs in the office were helpless about it, what could a mere peon like him do? 

As he crossed the verandah, he heard the perennial greeting “Ah, son you ‘ve come!” 

       

“ Yes, Ba, I’ve come, Dhana muttered mechanically. He stood numb at the door for a moment. 

Thought raced crossed his mind- to go barefoot to the office , to go out into the street without  sandals, naked feet exposing his wretchedness – the mark of destitution !

Suddenly his eyes fell on the glittering silver medal on the cupboard shelf. He had won it in a swimming competition ten years before. The sheen of the medal swan before his eyes. 

Dhana quickly reached for the medal. Clutching it in his fist he strode out in to the street. He turned towards the market with decisive steps. He had stumbled upon a way to get out of his misery. He was so absorbed in it that he did not notice the bus coming down the road. When he did, it was too late. The bus knocked him down and its wheels rolled over his necked feet.

Pathik Parmar
Dr. Pathik Parmar, born 15 June, 1956, teaches Gujarati literature in Mahila Arts College, Bhavnagar.
His most important dalit poetry is in the form of songs. He has also written ghazals. His collections of poetry are 'Jhankhana Pathikni' (1973), 'Dwidal '(1978), 'Vatta '(1981), and 'Bahishkrut' (2003).
His address: 3839/160, Urban,Talaja Road, Near Kach Mandir, Bhavnagar, Gujarat.
Tel: 0278-2566250.