The Shoe Rack

Happy New Year folks!

I haven’t got loads to tell today. I’ve just got this old piece of my writing which I’d like to share.

This was written during the Video Film making module of my course. I wanted to make a short film based on this but I haven’t been able to as yet. I wish I could say that the video is coming soon but for now all I have is the script.

The Shoe Rack

It’s a regular college day, the regular crowd, regular classes and regular mess food. I am sitting by the stairs, staring out of the window. I am staring outside at nothing in particular. There is the playground, the busy street, the pavement full of cars and kids. As I carry on with my aimless staring my eyes focus on the kids playing on the pavement. They are all the kids from a nearby slum. Sitting up here all I can see is their shrunken heads and naked feet. Those naked feet have somehow caught my attention. I look back inside the college building and without meaning to my eyes stare at the shoes of every passerby.

Some walk by wearing sport shoes, some strut around in them. There are those who rush by wearing comfy floaters and there are those who walk around at leisure in them.
There are some who seem to be dragging themselves in their slippers and there are some who have socks teamed with them. There are also fleeting glances of those who are running with time in their pointed shiny formals. 
Just as I am following a pair of Kolhapuris tumbling down the stairs the tick-tock of a stiletto draws my attention. I look up at them cat-walking down the stairs accompanied by a pair of stocking and boot clad legs. There are then the glimpses of the trendy All Star Converse in the variations of blue, red or black.

Two pairs of feet are huddled together, the feminine mojdis sitting a step above the Reebok sneakers. The occasional but in vogue osho slippers also make their way around.
You then have those sudden striking experiments of footwear. A brightly coloured bally or a loud gladiator. You might also find shoes that don’t exactly look like shoes or a weird looking sandal. 
The old school chappals and leather jootis also have their fare share. I look down at my own feet snug in a pair of the rubber jootis you get these days. All of them feet are moving in front of my eyes.
Slowly they all become a blur to me. 
And then a silent pattering of naked feet comes into focus and I stare at them hurrying down the stairs with some unknown purpose. I follow those feet trying to place their owner but before I can come down to any understanding they are gone.

It is said that you judge a person by their shoes.

What if they don’t have any?

My mind is drawn back to the street children playing down stairs. They all look the same to me, little shrunken heads and naked feet.

Again, you judge a person by their shoes, What if they don’t have any?