The Hatti-chhaap Slippers [1]

Every morning, as I used to make myself ready to run for school after gobbling up a plateful of dhido, the Radio Nepal broadcasted “As strong as the elephant! The Hatti-chhaap slippers.” I would run through the door, reach the compound of my house, and bow my head down like a swan. Then I looked at the slippers on my feet with eyes full of doubt. No matter how many times the radio advertised, I never believed that Hatti-chhap slippers were as strong as an elephant.

Again and again, only one question would come to my mind: how can a pair of slippers which hardly lasts for 7-10 days be as strong as an elephant? The memory of fixing/repairing the broken straps of Hattichhap slippers after they came off abruptly came to my mind. I remembered the times when I fixed the strap of my slippers by melting the strap a little in fire and attaching it again. Like the change in seasons, the Hattichhap slippers with different colored straps- blue, red, yellow, and green would come on the market. Despite all these, if there is one strong thing about the Hattichhap slippers; they never went loose from the feet.

When the slipper’s straps used to come off suddenly, my emotions used to hover over my head like a cocktail of anger and hopelessness. Continuously climbing the steps of anger in my heart, a single voice of despair would come out: “You stupid! Hatti-chap !!!”.

After Hattichap’s intestine-like strap used to break, I would apply many first aid treatments to make it right. Sometimes pieces of cloth, sometimes plastic, sometimes thin pieces of wood, and sometimes thorns of a bush were used to fix the sandals which turned into nothing but futile attempts.

The only and last savior, when my slippers would break while going to school, was a bush. We used to hurl them in a bush and stride towards school, barefoot. I usually walked barefoot to school when the Hattichap’s strap broke. Others in the school also used to do the same. Shame was a huge thing but hiding it to show helplessness was another level of fun.

After multiple practices of walking without the slippers, walking barefoot had almost become a habit for us. Surprisingly, when I returned home from school, I saw my Hattichap sandals were decocared by ants using the clay. Funny, right? The scene/view of several holes of clay in the sandals felt like a great work of art. Ants used to love it so some called Hattichap the Bread sandals.

Whenever I had to go as a guest or visit the city, or whenever it was a special day, Hattichhap sandal would coincide with its omen of breaking also on the same day. I never understood the kind of fate that had worked.

On that fateful day also, the Hattichap slipper showed its true color when the slipper on my right foot broke. I inserted the torn slipper in the unbroken one and threw the pair in the bush, from the road, and started marching down the school. My friend Krishna peeked at my feet and spoke, “Your Hattichhap betrayed you, huh?” I simply replied “Yeah friend, the stupid slipper left the strap again.”

It was one of the special days of my school life. I was selected for dictation writing, calligraphy? competition in the neighboring school. I was super excited I had to participate for my school in the dictation competition at the Santi Udaya School. To reach the school, we had to walk along the same road where I had thrown/left my broken slipper in the nearby bush.

The kid who was standing barefoot and wearing a sky-blue shirt and blue half pants with a thin face on the school balcony was no one other than myself. Just yesterday, we three were selected for the dictation completion.

Man Kumar sir came close to me and looked at my feet. My feet felt ticklish like a rush of tingles were hitting them. The fact that there were no slippers on my feet was as true as the fact that the sky is blue. After looking at my feet for quite a long time, Man Kumar Sir said-

 “Do not go to the dictation competition today. You do not have slippers on your feet. It will just be a matter of shame in the school of others. Also, Renu and Krishna write better than you.”

I did not say anything, could not even utter a word. I did not have anything to say at all.  I just kept on staring at the sky. I was the person who would argue hard for even a trivial matter but at that time I was completely being a decent child. That day my heart shattered but still, I tried my unsuccessful attempts to hide it.  I felt dizzy. There were many reasons behind my restlessness. Firstly, I did not have slippers,  secondly, I lost a chance to go to a dictation contest with Renu, and lastly- the actual reason-  Krishna would be solely prattling with Renu. Dark clouds hovered in my heart and it started rumbling. I felt like I was falling into an abyss. My heart twisted this side and that, like the water of the Ghumauri ghat river. My heart got twisted like the sweet item Arothe.[2]My anger ascended to the top of Mount Everest.

From the very beginning, my rage towards Hattichhap slippers would surface in two situations. One when it splashes water from behind during the rainy season and another when it shows its power by coming off loose. It was Hattichhap that would land hurriedly on my back whenever my sister was angry.

Even if I get too angry with Hattichhap, at the same time, its uncountable merits used to glide in my mind. A piece of Hattichhap used to come in handy while hammering sheets of tin on the roof. It was no less fun cutting the sole of the Hattichhap slipper and making wheels for my hand-made toy car.

Teachers stood on the balcony of our school getting ready to go for the competition. Their shirts and pants were more smoothly ironed than usual. Krishna’s boast was not less than a newly put-up Dashain swing. Everyone was ready to proceed but even after much waiting, Renu did not come out. Moreover, I saw her go hurriedly inside her shop. Man Kumar Sir went inside the shop to bring her. I guessed he was scolding her. Though I could not understand every word he said, I assumed he said “How late are you being? We have to reach far.”  Then Renu hurriedly arrived at the school premise. Krishna, Renu, Man Kumar sir, and Bibek sir all passed me by and climbed enthusiastically uphill towards the Shanti Uday School for the dictation competition with enthusiastic steps. With a strange feeling in my heart, I kept on gazing at the view of teachers and my friends ascending the hill, till they reached the top.

Unnecessarily my brain started to feel dull. Like a raging flame, absolute disappointment soared to my head. I did not feel energetic enough to study that day. A melancholic sadness fogged my heart. The scene of my friends striding excitingly towards Santi Udaya School kept undulating in my heart like the waves of an ocean. Like a leaf falling from a crashing tree during the storm, my heart felt like it would crash down. Leaning against the wall of the toilet, I remained brooding for a really long time, unmoved. I kept writing words that I had memorized for the dictation on the floor with my toe.

I kept standing at the same spot for 2 hours like a pole. At 12 noon, the school guard rang the bell: Tong Tong Tong. Absolute silence took over the situation but my teachers and friends had crossed the hill already to go to the competition. The day turned completely into a kind of sullenness. Memories from my childhood to that moment, came rushing down my mind.

I recalled that ticklish moment I had after putting postcards inside Renu’s bag on the occasion of Dashain and New year. Then I also remembered the slaps Renu received because of those postcards. The memory of Renu’s father pulling my ear outside Renu’s shop while playing carom board also freshened up. I could not forget how I put gooseberries inside Renu’s bag secretly because she was a topper in the class and I did not have the courage to speak to her. With the gooseberry tree in front of my house as a witness, I had quietly expressed my love for Renu, in my heart.

I did not take the remaining periods of that day in the school and returned the same way my friends had walked to participate in the competition. Alone, I climbed uphill towards the चिहानघारी. Uncontrollable anger towards the Hattichhap slippers did not seem to lessen. I felt like my heart would explode. I would be lying if I say I did not feel like taking the Hattichhap slippers to the forest and destroy forever. But I could not. If I burn the strap a little, it would stick again and the slipper could last for another 1-2 hours. Ideas like these kept rotating in my mind like a Ferris wheel. There was not an ounce of energy left in my body.

The farmers in the village down the road were sitting under the shade of cotton trees, shelling the corn cobs. Some were unwillingly playing a folk tune from the leaves of fodder trees. Two young buffaloes were ruminating in the Bhandari Pond.

Unwillingly I entered the bush where I had hurled the Hattichhap slippers in the morning. Unlike every time, there were no ants beneath the slippers. Instead, there was a colorful envelope. There were three currency notes of twenty, two, and one rupee placed chronologically inside the envelope along with a piece of paper. In total there were twenty-three rupees. On the piece of paper was a letter addressed to me. First, I looked surprisingly at Hatttichhap slippers. Second, I glanced at the letter with astonished eyes. Then I gazed towards the farmers singing folk songs. For some time, I breathed a sigh of relief

I was extremely surprised. I could not figure out if its day or night. I could not decide if it was a mere midday mystery of the burial place or a normal incident. That place was designated as a burial ground for Gurungs (one of the indigenous communities of Nepal). Sometimes, I would see a funeral every month being taken place there. Am I conscious or not? Am I being led by some kind of ghost? I was petrified. I looked right and left and even peeked behind my back. The forest looked desolate. Amidst the silence, beetles were making a clicking sound in the forest. It was midday, I was alone on the burial ground so I was scared. I took a long deep breath. I felt a bit of relief listening to the buzz of the farmers and the sounds of leaves. My heart did not permit me to stay there for one more moment. I felt like an unsafe animal surrounded by dangers. Grabbing the torn slippers, money, and the letter, I started walking. I did not even realize that I was barefoot. It felt like my brain would explode out of curiosity. I put the money inside my pocket and as I sat below a needle wood tree to read the letter, a rat snake followed by a yellow monitor lizard came rushing near me. Energetically, I climbed up the stone wall. Those two creatures, entangled with each other, launched towards the pond. I was terror-stricken. I kept looking at the pond for some time and again glanced at the letter. The fear of the rattlesnake and the letter made my heart shiver so hard that I thought it would burst out of my body. When I opened the letter, my hands were shaking so hard, like how a gust of wind sways banana leaves.

My friend

You were standing near school, barefoot. Your face looked more blackish-bluish (more sorrowful) than usual. I wondered why you were staring at the old fig tree. You had hidden your tears with your bag. Then I rushed towards my shop. I broke down the piggy box of my father and took out 23 rupees which I have kept below your slippers. For the first time in my life, I saw a boy crying because of torn slippers. Cry-baby! Your tears turned me into a thief.

I wanted to walk along with your innocent heart. Krishna was actually very happy that you could not come with us. It was him who told me that you have hidden your slippers in a lone bush at cremation hill. I lied that I wanted to pee. So I let Krishna and others walk ahead of me and I hurriedly put 23 rupees and this piece of paper beneath your slippers.

That same insensible R

I was perplexed. It was like the whole world was spinning around me. I was enveloped suddenly by fear, worry, and shame. I stayed like that for two hours. My body was tingling. It felt like there was an earthquake and I was at an epicenter. I remained there for some time, wondering what to do and what not to do.

Nearby there was a needlewood tree. In the tree, an eagle had hatched eaglets. The two eagles were taking turns in bringing food for their eaglets. For a moment I looked at the love of the pair of eagles, and eaglets chirping. With my left hand, I took a pointed stone, and in my right, I held Renu’s letter. Slowly, I started to carve on the needlewood tree. For a long period of time, I wrote on the tree with a stone pencil, like a person carving an image of god on the stone. It took me two hours to write 2 letters. Now, without a plan, a picture had formed on the stem of the tree: A+R.

---

[1] Hattichhap chappal ( slippers) is a Nepali brand slippers.

[2] Arothe is a Nepali sweet,