Chapal Chaser

My niece is almost 8 years old. Yet she is a CheyChey for many.

She underwent heart surgery when she was bearly 2 years old. She still carries several marks of stitches on her tender chest.

We seldom meet. The first thing she usually ask me after hug is to draw and do the narration of my sketches.

I can not deny but to sketch stick boy and do a illustrative narration.

After more than a month we meet today.

I had to do yet another narration with my stick boy that represents me.

I was 8 years old. Matured enough to be independently away from parents in boarding school.

Incessant summer rainfall has subsided. A calm afternoon could hear nothing but a roaring seasonal river few meters from the hostel.

In tattered and faded cheap school gho, I went to play with the current of the river.

I had nothing but a pair of dirty Bata chapal.

Sitting by the angry river I tried to challenge the current of the river against my muscle.

Only to see my chapal disappearing in the muddy river that seemed to be angry at my challenge.

I had no options left than either to run after it or walk rest of my school days bare foot.

I choosed the first; to run after it until I get it off the rushing river.

With one bata Chapal held below left arm. I did marathon until I saw it disappear amidst river boulders.

I choosed the first option to get it. And I had to walk barefoot rest of the days.

Fear of friends insulting me. Embarrassment circling my cheek. I had left but no options than to ask seniors to give me their spare slipper.

Twice the size of my feet, but I believed something is better than nothing.

I had it under my feet until I got touch with my Apa. Who immediately bought me a brand new Bata.

Such narratives supported by illustration proved to be the best of ways to teach the children.