The cold trigger pressing against my chest paralysed me. My breath screamed in my lungs to be set free. I tried to ignore it and looked at Marc.
His steely silence was too much to bear.
I gasped and vomited the apology I had rehearsed from the time I had stumbled out of the Cochin International Airport at midnight yesterday.
“Boss, I promise I will never let the baby shoes out of sight. But after the immigration……”
“Stop it! You moron!”
He whispered behind clenched teeth, “ Did it get caught at customs? Did you reveal anything? How did you get out?”
Marc grabbed the wisps of his diminishing hair and swore once again, the embers in his eyes threatening to consume me without a warning.
My mind left him at that and went through all that happened yesterday like the scanning machine at the security checkpoint.
I had offloaded everything from my backpack onto the grim, grey trays. The beautiful blue baby shoes sat pretty inside my backpack as I pushed it inside the machine. I had carefully stitched the fine gems in layers of soft foam to the soles.
I waited for the backpack on the other side, only to find it sitting pretty in the hands of a sneering officer.
It bared its mouth and grumbled at being rummaged through.
I quickly strode across to get it, but an officer held it tightly.
“Fancy new shoes, eh?”
I would have almost smacked his hands for pressing the sole so hard, but I laughed nervously.
“For my little boy, nine months old.”
“ Hmmm… go!“
That was easy! I snatched the bag and looked for my other things.
That’s all I know!
Something must have happened while all the gold on the scented hands and necks queuing up distracted me.
“No! Farooq, don’t you think I believe in your stories? Two days! And you are coming back with good news. Start counting the seconds.” Marc’s booming voice shook me out of my fruitless recapitulation.
Allah! You told me to lead my life as an honest plumber.
******
The bumpy road to Ghadcholi town, district Sangli in Maharashtra, eased my nerves as I came closer to my destination.
I got down from the brightly painted town bus and walked behind a few other co-passengers.
The dust that swirled and settled on me unceremoniously as I strode down the unkempt roads refused to blur my goal in sight.
I stopped outside a run-down independent house, the best one in the locality.
I thought I was called to some sort of marketplace. Was I fooled by the ad that popped up on my phone early this morning?
‘For Sale: baby shoes. Never worn’
Imagine the audacity of this guy! Trying to sell my shoes..eh?
A drop of sweat released from the creases on my brow didn’t know where to go.
I unbuttoned my collar.
The cool breeze that sneaked in gave me hope that the remaining hours of my life would change everything.
Really! In what way?
Will I be alive……
I went closer to the blue shoes on the windowsill and instinctively picked them up.
They are mine….no, Marc’s.
“Neither!” The tremble in his voice and cold hands wrapping mine startled me.
The old man looked at the shoes.“Beta, don’t pay attention to the ad posted by my foolish son Shyam. I understand what you feel is deeply personal, but Shyam inadvertently brought hope for us.”
“Sir, there was a mix-up at the airport. I need to take this……..”
The firmness in his narrowing eyes brushed aside my anguish.
“Beta, Meena’s hopes of becoming a mother were dashed to the ground last year. Shyam is not willing to go through the pain of expectations again, but look at Meena.”
Meena stood at the doorway, her misty eyes focusing solely on her feet that were fast losing their colour.
Hope breathed… silent yet expectant in the night breeze. It smiled alongside the twinkling stars.
I stood rooted through the night.
I could take it away now. to save my life.
But the next morning, I set that precious hope next to Meena. I knew it would live and thrive there.
For me…. it was lost, found and lost again. Strangely, it didn’t matter now.
*******
