Old Black Shoe

Mama always said there's an awful lot you can tell about a person by their shoes. Where they're going. Where they've been.

                                            -Forrest Gump

I first met my shoes one fine day at school in class 11. The school administration had, for reasons unfathomable to the puny intellect of mortals, decided to stray from the standard canvas footwear that had been part of the attire of its students for quite some time then. So they had gotten all these people from Adidas to measure all our feet and supply shoes for us.

And there they were, lying patiently in their cardboard containers in wait for my feet to slip in, black with a sheen, sturdy yet comfortable, larger than average yet not too large, my transport across all land, my vehicle across all terrain, my protection from thorns and stones and cow dung, shoes yet so much more.

 Needless to say, they lasted me more than well throughout my school days, accompanying me to classes and exams and washrooms, through the best and worst of times, without as much as a tear or a bruise. In the summers of 2008 and 2009, when I was at the IOI training camp, these shoes were among the first things I made it a point to take along, and they came with me too to Bulgaria for the olympiad in 2009, sheltering my feet from the artificial cold of the plane and especially the contest hall (where I remember literally shivering), remaining witness to any and all progress in every circle I was involved in.

And of course, when college started in August 2009, they were among my first possessions to enter the campus, seeing me through the initial few days of uncertainty and unsettled anticipation, and later on through all sorts of situations from the rare (extremely rare) morning jog to sleeping through ID classes. They were here this year too, though worn a bit less frequently.

Last week, while playing football for about the fourth time in the hostel ever, the sole of the right shoe came off. I have never seen that happen before, and have no idea why it did so even without much wear. I don't think it is mend-able, and am probably getting another pair for Diwali. So I guess the time is here to say goodbye to my great old shoes, unfortunate though it might be, and move on to whatever comes my way next, as something definitely shall.

They shall be missed.

PS: Speaking of shoes, can anyone help me figure this one out ?

Fare thee well, carboniferous beast; thou shalt not be missed . . .

It is with great rejoice and merriment that we, on that joyous and glorious weekend in the month of April 2010, bade a cheery farewell to the final vestiges of the pterodactyl that is Chemistry, as it clumsily spread out its metaphorical organic and physical wings (who cares about inorganic chemistry anyway?), and in a not-so-breathtaking motion, pushed off the perilous cliffs of our ever so adventurous and inquisitive minds, realising finally the inappropriateness of its unwelcome presence amongst the lively and merry souls of my messmates and myself, perhaps repentant of the tortures laid upon us by its ominous glare and perhaps, just perhaps, sorry for the scars that shall remain upon our chests for years to come, caused by its diabolical talons clawing at innocent students walking their own ways, upon the journey of their lives.

 But of course, it is only the Chemistry that we have been administered in classrooms that I complain about- the subject itself is as necessary and interesting (I wonder..) as any other. (Just to put the thought into your head, people can say quite favourable stuff with a blade to their throat.)

Now, there are possibly a multitude of reasons why Chemistry did not ( ha! its 'did not' now, not 'does not') happen to be exactly my favourite among subjects, but the prime among those I consider to be something related to the sentiments of a flying pokemon trainer somewhere around Fallarbor Town, after losing rather drastically with his Pidgey against my Totodile (or was it a Croconaw by then? long time..), which went something like :

I like bug pokemon, but I'm good with bird pokemon. I guess liking something and being good at it are not the same thing.

So there you have it, mighty peers, the reason I don't take much of a fancy towards Chemistry: I'm rather bad at the stuff we do in those classes - equations, compounds, structures, properties, and all the other related blah do not figure anywhere on my list of "nice to know" priorities, as don't football leagues and  fair-weather friends. As you can see, pokemon, appear quite high.