HE had decided to end his life, and the place he had chosen was the railway track just before the last station, and just after the level crossing. He had given it careful thought, but decided he couldn’t take it anymore. Yesterday, his wife and little son had sat terrified inside their house as creditors banged their door, and asked for payments.
He wondered which train would knock him out, and then he saw the slipper. It lay a few feet away from the track and without thinking, his toe, turned it around. “Don’t!” said a voice close by. He had not seen her approach, he had been so engrossed in his thoughts, “Leave the slipper!” she said, “It belongs to him!”
“Him?” he asked, as he looked at the young village girl, who seemed to have spent her whole day weeping, “Who’s him?” “He fell off the train yesterday!” she said, “Right here! They brought him dead with only one slipper, I knew the other was here. I want to take this back and place it with the other, so that his child who I carry will see it and know what kind of a father he was!” He looked at her, and realized she was pregnant, “What will your child realize from looking at a slipper?” he asked curiously.
“Look at it!” she said, as she picked it up, “Look at the soles, all worn out, at the straps that have been stitched back at least three times. At his footprint, so embedded in the rubber, reminding me of a man who walked a dozen miles every day, working, striving to better for himself and us, never wanting to give up!” He gently picked up the slipper, and stared at each stitch that held it together, each toe impression that spoke volumes about a man who fought to succeed, and huge tears gushed down his cheeks.
He heard the sound of the train he had been waiting for, and watched as she moved to the side, and then found himself doing the same. He handed her the slipper, and watched as she held it close to where her unborn child rested then watched as she walked away. He walked away from the railway tracks, and as he walked, he looked at his own chappals. He had chosen well how to go, and noticed that the soles seemed unused and leather straps, good as new.
“I will fight and win, till these, look like that worn out slipper!” he thought and walked home to face the world he’d wanted to leave. It was a lone slipper on a railway track that changed a loser to a winner and people still wonder as they enter his now posh office so many years later, why a worn slipper in a frame adorns his wall..!
