The Cobbled Road..

A pair of high heels on cobbled streets always attract attention; it is almost like the clatter of the heels wakes up the sleepy road and all the sleepy folks living on it. The lazy eyed old man sitting by the side of the road lifts up his half open eyes from his lazy newspaper to look at the noisy passerby disapprovingly.
The undulating cobbled pathway adds an extra spring to the gait of the high heeled stranger. She does the hop skip and jump as she walks and the locals glance at her disapprovingly as they firmly plant their feet and walk steadily along.
The extra inches make her tower over the rest; it is almost like she unabashedly seeks attention. She must be a snob to walk all tall when the rest of the crowd unpretentiously walks in lowly pair of sneakers on cobbled road.

The old worn out cobbled streets in the hills are the most judgmental of all; they know the old regulars from the occasional visitors and can get nasty with the new folks. Yes she was new to this queer little town and she could sense that the meandering streets here didn't want to make friends with her- the high heeled snob on her high horse!

She tried to block out the nasty remarks of the street and steadied her pace for she had a rendezvous to keep. She still had a long winding distance to cover and she was afraid that she might not reach there in time- It is never a good idea to keep people waiting for long; they ultimately give up on you.

However the disapproval weighed down on her and gnawed at her will to walk further. Was it just the cobbled street that was being unreasonably prejudiced towards her or had she deserving earned the disapproval with her purple plume and high heels?
The chatter in her head kept getting louder, it was disapproval mixed with self-doubt and the fear of failing to make the appointed hour. Her pace slowed and she faltered, overwhelmed by a shortness of breath. Then in a split second she stopped completely turned around and ran as fast as she could in the opposite direction. There was no one to call her back now, she would not stop. Her fears had taken the better of her and she was again the fragile kid who knows nothing better than to run back home when a bully stops her midway on the cobbled road…

Of Stilettos And Metaphors..

Life is but a dew drop, A Fragile Dew Drop on its Perilous way..


A ‘Fragile Dew Drop’ precariously balanced on the edge of the leaf blade glistening as the sunrays pass across its suspended weight. Why did this metaphor put a smile on my face?

Mundane tasks of life include buying groceries. And it was just another day, when I was duty bound to carry the groceries for the week. Yet standing by the side of the road I was thinking of the metaphor. I was dressed in office formals, brown trousers a pullover in a slightly rounded shade of maroon-red but what made me stand tall was a dainty pair of cream-brown stilettos. And what a day to be caught on the wrong foot with the little rain, rushing traffic and the ordeal of crossing the road to buy the groceries. I stood there on one side of the road and the store stood on the opposite. My immediate mission was to maneuver through the wild rush of traffic with the splattering rain balancing my umbrella and my heels and reach the store. Yet I stood there listening to the splattering rain and the swishing-vrooming bikes and cars smiling inwardly at my predicament. I was looking at the lights, the shadows, and the sounds all rushing past me, tearing through the rain drops. Disturbing my reverie, old Mr. Prudence queried “Why the trouble of ‘the balancing act’ in a pair of heels?” Always ready to argue his case, today he slyly tries to make his point by asking an innocent, ‘Why?’ He had a little irritated look, having borne the click-clack of my heels on the marbled floor through the day and now the near ‘sinking feeling’ as I stood on loose moist mud on the side of the road. Can I think of something intelligent in my defense? I turn my gaze to the approaching vehicles, and after doing a quick math, I stride across. Deftly I balance, I walk, I run and reach the other end. Miss vanity gives a flushed smile (intelligent defense)! I stand on the divider; I have another road to cross before I make it to the store. After another little pause I am again briskly walking tall across the road and into the store.
I always wonder standing on the billing counter why do I have to shop as if there is to be no tomorrow. And why don’t I realize the bigger the bags get, the heavier they are to carry! Late realization and here I am again running, hopping maneuvering through the traffic. I walk balancing myself on a pair of heels with an umbrella and now with two additional bags of grocery as well. The road to my home is stony and uneven, so I am again routing-rerouting, meandering, tip-toeing my way through. It’s not a cake walk I know nor is life. A metaphor again!