Naina heaved a sigh of relief as she dropped three year old Chirag at the play school. “Three whole hours to myself,” she thought blissfully. For most young mothers, free time was a luxury and Naina was no exception.
Her mind drifted back to the harrowing months after Chirag’s birth. The first few months had passed in a blur, with day and night merging into one endless cycle of feeding, cleaning, rocking, and soothing the baby. Even simple things like taking a bath or eating a meal in peace had seemed impossible.
Her mother’s presence during that time had been a blessing. She took care of the cooking, supervised the maid, and often stepped in when Chirag cried inconsolably. Varun, her husband, did his best to help whenever he was home from work.
When Chirag turned six months old, however, her mother decided it was time to return to her own home. From then on, Naina had to manage everything on her own. She was perpetually exhausted, as mothers often are. Teething, weaning, fevers, and sleepless nights kept her occupied for more than a year. Then came the “terrible twos” when Chirag developed a stubborn streak, threw tantrums at mealtimes, and transformed into a bundle of mischief.
As soon as he turned three, Naina and Varun decided to enroll him in a play school. “It will keep him occupied and give you some much needed time for yourself” Varun had said.
The first week had been far from easy. Naina felt her heart breaking every morning as Chirag sobbed and clung to her when she dropped him off. In truth, she seemed to suffer more from separation anxiety than he did. The teachers spent as much time reassuring her as they did comforting Chirag. But gradually, things improved. After a month, Naina finally found herself relaxing into the new routine.
Today, she had decided, would be devoted to the long-overdue task of spring cleaning. She would start with the cupboards.
Opening the first one, she began sorting through the clutter. Tiny clothes, blankets, and sweaters that Chirag had long outgrown could be given to the maid, whose daughter was expecting a baby. Broken toys and miscellaneous odds and ends would be discarded. As she reached into a corner, a red plastic bag caught her attention.
Curious, she pulled it out and opened it. Inside was a pair of baby shoes. They were brand new, small enough to fit a one year old. Naina frowned, trying to remember where they had come from. Then it came back to her. Her friend Ria had gifted them during a visit when Chirag was about eight months old. “He will be walking in a few months,” Ria had said with a smile.
At that time, an overwhelmed and sleep-deprived Naina had tucked the shoes away for future use and completely forgotten about them. Buried beneath piles of clothes, they had remained hidden for the last two years. She ran her fingers gently over them. They were soft, comfy and absolutly cute. A wistful smile touched her lips. “Now they’ll never fit Chirag. There’s no point keeping them.”
Then she remembered Second Hugs, an online platform for selling pre-owned baby products.Opening her laptop, she navigated to the site and began creating a listing.
For sale: Baby shoes. Never worn. As she reread the words, a memory stirred. Somewhere, long ago, she had come across a famous six-word story that used almost the same phrase. Those six words had hinted at a tragedy too heartbreaking to describe.
She shook her head and chided herself. “For heaven’s sake, stop being so morbid. It all depends on how one interprets it.” Still, she decided to reword the lasting. After a moment’s thought, she typed: “Looking to rehome a brand-new pair of cute, comfortable baby shoes. Perfect for a one-year-old.” Satisfied, she submitted the listing and shut down her laptop.
Then she picked up the tiny shoes one last time before placing them in the box of things to be passed on. For a moment, she could almost see a chubby-legged toddler taking his first uncertain steps toward her.
