‘Maya’ seems to be such a magical word. May be it even means that. My grandparents generally use it as a literary instrument in parables, in life. As I researched, I realised that the concept was linked with attachment. I just stared, looked around my room. Every single thing that I was attached to, I understood, had desired, acquired and felt for.
As a matter of fact, when I enter a store packed with clothes and shoes, the aisles beckon me. How do you think I find my way through and never get lost? That’s how. Freaky? Yes. When I say that I’d earn a livelihood for myself, for shoes; that, all I needed as a gift for my wedding was a pair of Jimmy Choos. Even a Louboutin would do; That I needed a closet, as in SATC, all for my shoes, when I splurge on a new pair, when I look at a person’s shoes, judging them, I’d bet with people whose shoes were irresistible, for their shoes; It's mood altering capabilities, how I can compliment a perfect stranger on their shoes (Oh. I’m shy.) and how easily that perfect pair can distract the hell out of me - My mom flips. Every single time; “You won’t be that cat lady everybody hates. You’ll be the shoe lady…” she’d say. “That everybody loves!” I’d chime along, continuing her sentence.
Every single time.
They seemed to speak to me in a language of their own and I understood them, perfectly well. Delusional? I’d say! My heart just skips a beat. In that one, missed beat it would have conveyed to me that I should ‘check it out’. I MUST. It would have it no other way. My mind hates the idea of being powerless in front of a perfectly crafted pair of beauties. The attraction is almost magnetic.
I ponder over the price tag, put it back and hide it, protecting them from sneer looks, itching to swipe the card.
That is and will be my first love. Always.
Makes me guilty for one. For the material attachment, for greed. But again, that goes away when I see another ravishing pair of shoes. Sigh! Whether I own them or not, they DEFINITELY own me.
It’s all Maya, I say.
