When I was very young my uncle lovingly called me a platypus... I used to stare at him with my mouth popped open, thinking with my child logic whether he has royally lost his marbles. Little did I realise that he was paying tribute to my flat foot.
Now let me clarify for my friends for whom the world has always been round from all angles... Flat foot is a foot without that arch... A foot which has a mind of its own.. a rebel amongst feet.. which leaves hilarious anecdotes in its wake.
Since then I have learned to have a grudging tolerance for the platypus and the duck and the baby elephant, because you see I have been bountifully gifted with physical resemblance to all...
Well, coming back to my flat foot... I realised that I have been blessed with an excellent pair when I was in class XII (better late than never!!). Mind you I was a tomboy right from my childhood and teamed with a rebellious streak, it was not surprising that I always landed in trouble especially with my parents. Well here I was with my partner in crime (our landlady’s daughter) returning home from a Kabbadi match. Enroute to the bathroom, our muddy feet had left trail of designs on the floor in the hall. Ah. ‘Footprints in the sand’ I quipped. ‘But they are so different’ my friend said. As if it was not enough she added ‘Yours looks like a duck’. ‘Ah. You have flat feet’, she informed me, pleased to score one on me. ‘What the bloody hell is a flat feet ??’, I had royally lost it then ( I’m known for my wonderful trait for allowing my temper to run wild). Was it a disability? my mind wondered. My uncle intervened and explained. I was a bit appeased when he said that it was a hereditary trait that I have inherited from my father. My inheritance... the saga is a colorful one, which I shall take up some other day.
Realisation brings enlightment and joy...Friends I wanted to share some of the funniest anecdotes ... courtesy my flat foot.
Stumbling, falling down, tripping over invisible objects are all state of art manifestations of a flat feet, not to forget gaping holes in your almost new footwear.
I am a true foodie and the food which I take, along with the air and water confluence very well with my body’s digestive mechanism and so I become endowed with lovable deposition of fat on my torso. There was never any love lost between my brother and myself, but my generous proportions being compared to a baby elephant in shorts.... hmmm.... Heavy body mass is deadly if you have flat feet.. especially if over the years your body starts resembling like humpty dumpty walking on sticks...
Anyways..
Anecdote 1 -> It was the last day of my first semester in college. I had a lecture at 9.30 am and I had to change 2 buses. As I alighted..rather tried to alight.. (you see I have always failed to alight graciously from anything, because as i told you my feet have a mind of their own and they are ever conniving with my gigantic mass to embarrass me) I stumbled down from the stairs of the bus.. I had the bus handle in my hand and the next moment I saw myself heading straight for the pavement face down. I desperately tried to hold onto something, and the first thing which came to my sight was 2 poles. I grabbed onto them and straightened myself, only to realize that I have landed straight from the pan to the fire. What I mistook as poles in my rush were in reality the legs of a dhoti clad Bengali and he was livid. His face said it all.... loose chit of a girl, with no senses...and I did not stop for more, I was hurrying in the opposite direction, my face gone red as a beetroot. Wait friends my agonies were not over. just when I thought I had escaped I stumbled again flat on the tram track..( This was kolkata and trams still ply on the road). My language had always been colourful, thanks to my unerring ear for the slings and the male company I kept. That day it surpassed my previous rend rations.
When I tried to gain a sympathetic ear from my friends they were in splits.. yaah..thats what friends are for.
Anecdote 2 -> This can be attributed more to my platypus like walk... I would like to call it a flip flop gait, which I have painstakingly perfected and can give its originator a run or his money. I was on my way to Hariprasad ji’s concert. I had royally fibbed at office, and basking in my ability to tell a white lie, I was rushing to the bus stop. Believe me when I tell you.. There was no a stone or barrier in sight. The pavement.. Hardly 2 inches from the ground and me in my heels... yes you have guessed it right.. the culprit conniving with my flat feet this time were my 2.5 inches heels. Suddenly my knee crumbled and I fell onto the road and there was this excruciating pain and blood oozing out. People rushed to help.. or maybe to just watch the fun... because amongst the crowd of people who throng to your side during your distress, 90% are there to watch the fun, and a fallen lady whether she has fallen from the pavement or otherwise, clad in a sari somehow tickles their funny bone.. or can I call it their sadist bone. Even through that haze of pain, what was funny how a man, in the garb of a good Samaritan was inching his way slowly towards ... hmm .He was almost there when, I summoned up my strength and scrambled on all fours to my feet. What a feast for the eyes, my gigantic proportions must have been then.. but it was better than being touched by a lech. Anyways I reached my office which was on the 7th Floor and almost fainted in the Front office with pain. By then my knee had swollen up. My very good friend Abarna and Nandita helped me to the back office.. and then it was a series of happenings till the doctor gleefully pronounced that I have a torn ligament. Only I can achieve such a feat.
Six years has passed since then, and I have learned to love my flat feet and as all love stories go, if you sweet talk to your loved ones they behave according to your wishes. My feet are no exception. I take good care of them every night.....In fact; they stand me in good stead whenever I want to stamp on an offender’s foot.
Now I shall tell you about the holes which feature in almost all my footwear because of my gait. I have to change my footwear every 3 months. Big brands do not matter to my feet. all have similar fate at the hands... or should I say the legs of my flat feet. I sometimes think I should be hired my the big brands to test the durability of their shoes..
What is consoling is that there are many like me with surprising similar anecdotes to their name. One day we shall compare notes.
Yippee!!!!! Long live my flat feet
