Imagine this: I return home tired from work and honk my scooter’s horn as if announcing the arrival of a king. While waiting for the gate to open, my eyes fall on a black thread tied to the gate handle. Perhaps it’s some ancient ritual to bless the new gate. Finally, the gate opens.
As usual, I grab a cup of tea and say, “I need new shoes for the upcoming wedding. These shoes of mine aren’t suitable for the occasion.” And then, my mom, the guardian of all household mysteries, says, “You already have a pair. Look under the stairs.”
This is where the drama begins. I ask dramatically, “Which shoes? Where? Are they invisible?” Mom gestures mysteriously toward the stairs, where there’s a big box, as if she’s revealing the location of a treasure. I wonder, which shoes? Why don’t I remember them?
I start searching for the box in that area, like an archaeologist on a mission. After moving so much stuff that it could fill a small museum, I finally find the shoe box. I clean it, hold it as if it’s a sacred thing, and with bated breath, I open it. And what do I find?
What I find, I hold with both hands and show it to Mom, saying, “Laces. Just Laces. No shoes. Only Laces. Where are the shoes?”
“Well, they’re not there.”
“Then they must be in the storeroom cupboard. I’ll bring them,” Mom says and disappears into the storeroom. She returns with another box, hands me the shoes, and I inspect them like a detective. “Which shoes are these?
“These from your sister’s wedding” Mom says,
“That was 10 years ago!”
She corrects me, “Not 10—9 years.”
“Oh, my mistake. Just 9 years old. Almost brand new.”
I try them on and wonder if I should wear them to the wedding, when Mom drops another bombshell:
“Don’t wear these to the wedding.” I laugh, “Why not?”
She replies, “They might tear. They’re too old.”
I’m stunned. “Then why did we keep them?”
“Because you only wore them once.”
Then why did you stop me from buying new shoes?
“When did I stop you? I said, one more pair lying around”
But the story gets deeper. I ask, “Why are the Laces in one box and the shoes in another? Are they diamonds? Do we need to keep them in separate places to protect them from thieves?”
Without hesitation, Mom says, “Oh, those Laces don’t even belong to these shoes. They’re for some other pair.”
“Then where are the laces for these shoes?”
She casually replies, We needed a black thread. “I cut them and tied them to the gate. “
I laugh and ask, “Do I have permission to buy new shoes now?”
Mom says, “Yes, go ahead. Bring something nice.”
And so, the saga ends
